The Wall of Gold

When I glance at the news nowadays, all I can see is GOLD. Everywhere. God-men dreaming up gold, The Archaeological Survey of India seeking gold, Australian scientists finding gold in Eucalyptus tress and religious places with basements full of gold.

And well, what do you know, one of my friends’ cousins also found gold in the walls of his house when it was being demolished! Wow, I mean how lucky is the guy? He dares to break up a house that has been in his family for generations and instead of being struck down by the wrath of his ancestors, he becomes a millionaire! He found gold in almost every wall of his house and by the time he was done breaking up his house personally (presumably with a sledgehammer made of gold), he was also scratching the porcelain toilet seats to make sure they weren't made of gold too. It seems that every wall had a couple of random bricks moulded out of gold and nobody knew about this secret since his great-great-great granddaddy took it to his grave. Whoever said that you leave this world empty-handed hadn't met Mr. Goldmason here. I mean, if you want to leave something for your descendants, you might want to mention it to them before dying; that might be a good idea.

However, I was intrigued at the idea of this guy finding gold in his house and so upon inquiry, I found out that it was a particular tradition in that part of India to bury gold in either the walls or under the floor, so in times of need, the family found never die of hunger. Just make a hole in the wall and Voila! It’s raining money again.

Now my father has this weird obsession of bettering his house. He keeps renovating his home every year and so his friends have started joking that he’s actually hiding money in the walls of the house, especially the washroom, since we have this perpetual leak in one of them that refuses to get repaired. Now, after hearing the above-mentioned stories, I've found myself often wondering if I might eventually find money stashed in the walls one day. It’s a hope against hope and a pretty hopeless one at that or so my father has told me and I must unfortunately agree. It’s just bricks and mortar.

Alas!