Not quite a flight by night!

The House of the Rising Tikam.
A ruin of many a poor boy.

It was 1972, and we were excited to be back in school. Unlike the previous years, our Standard Three class was in the afternoon session. But like the year before that, we also had a fierce-looking master as our class teacher. It was just the second day into the schooling year. Formal teaching had not started, and everyone was so excited about seeing each other after the long end-of-year break.

As in the previous year too, OBK seems to be the most popular student in the class. Like ants to sugar, everyone was pulled to his table between lessons. The loud conversations and the exclamatory remarks naturally drew me to OBK's corner. I was wondering what tall story was he up to this time.

There he was, collecting coins and returning the balance. Naturally, I was drawn in, curious in wanting to know what all that money translation was about. In between pocketing the money and answering to his 'clients', OBK briefly explained his proposal. He was to issue a piece of paper bearing his name and a promise. If one were to keep that paper till the beginning of the next school year, he could claim his dues. A piece worth 10 cents and would be worth 30 the following year. Wow, 200% returns!

His offer was being snapped up like hotcakes. The proposal appeared too simple. Just by tucking a piece of paper into my wallet and leaving it to rot would earn money. That sounded like a good deal. I paid my 10 cents and patted myself for being smart.

Time flew. Standard Three passed us by. Mr Beh, our class-master, proved to be a tyrant after all. He thought he was imparting wisdom to his students with his secret weapon of pinching the inner thigh, pulling the side-burns and public stripping of students. 

1973 came without much hoopla. I was excited thinking of the thirty cents that I was due to get, counting all the days for school to start. 

All the remunerations' joy came down to zilch when all of us arrived at school on that day. OBK was no more to be found. Maybe he may come the next day, we thought. Nothing. And the next day. And the next day. He had apparently changed school, away to another state. That was it. The promise of a 'windfall', by our own standards, came tumbling down. 

To this day, we were left wondering. Did he plan such an elaborate plan knowing quite well that he and his family were moving? Was it just a scam to get quick cash to finance whatever he was up to? 

Anyway, an experience like this in School of Hard Knocks built our mantle in dealing with the challenges in life as we eased ourselves into adulthood. Parents never knew about it. We just let it be and moved on with life. Smarter!

Come to think of it, Jho Low's modus operandi smells much like OBK's - promise the moons and the stars to clients whilst JL and MO1 have a whale of a time.

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