Vivek Swamirami #5

A Whole New Man!

Vivek stirred in bed as the early morning sunlight streamed through the cracks in the curtains. He reached out instinctively, his hand brushing cool sheets instead of the familiar warmth of Egon. His heart sank. He opened his eyes fully, the soft golden light of the room doing little to quell the sudden worry gnawing at his chest.

“Egon?” he called softly, but the room was empty.

He sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. The silence of the ashram grounds outside was almost unnerving. Vivek rose, slipped into his robe, and padded barefoot to the door. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of flowers and incense.

As he stepped into the courtyard, one of the attendants approached him, her smile serene.

“Good morning, Mr. Swamirami,” she said, bowing slightly.

“Good morning,” Vivek replied, though his tone betrayed his unease. “Have you seen my husband?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, her smile widening. “Mr. Tusk mentioned he wanted to explore the surrounding area. He left with one of our guides just after dawn.”

Vivek sighed, some of his tension easing. “Did he seem... well?”

“Oh, yes,” the woman replied, her eyes alight. “He was curious and engaged. Quite energetic, actually.”

Vivek thanked her and returned to their room, though his thoughts were far from settled. Egon’s sudden departure from the ashram felt like a move from his old playbook—restless, impulsive, unable to stay in one place for too long. Still, the attendant’s words gave him a sliver of hope.

As he settled into a chair by the window, Vivek turned on his phone. Almost immediately, it buzzed and vibrated relentlessly, the screen lighting up with dozens of notifications. Emails, voicemails, texts—all demanding his attention.

His eyebrows furrowed as he began to sift through them, piecing together the story of Egon’s morning escapades.

The first email made him pause, his lips parting in disbelief. It was a confirmation of a $250 million transfer from one of Egon’s “petty cash” accounts to pediatric cancer research. The simple, clinical details of the transaction couldn’t mask the profound significance of the gesture.

The next notification revealed even more: Egon had directed the establishment of a new foundation to coordinate with food banks, starting with $250 million in funding. His instructions were clear and unyielding—determine the monthly need and adjust the funding as necessary, ensuring that only healthy, nutritious food was provided. Vivek’s chest tightened as he read the message. It was so specific, so thoughtful.

Another email outlined Egon’s plans for a $500 million startup initiative, dedicated to cleaning river pollution. He had identified three companies to lead the effort, each equipped with cutting-edge technology and innovative solutions.

Vivek sat back, his eyes misting. He hadn’t seen this side of Egon in years—the visionary, the man who cared deeply for the world around him and wasn’t afraid to take bold steps to make it better.

A few tears slipped down his cheeks as he whispered, “The old Egon... he’s coming back.”

But the flood of messages wasn’t entirely positive. Several emails from the board were laced with confusion and concern.

“What’s going on?” one member wrote. “Is this part of some new strategy, or has Mr. Tusk gone rogue?”

Another added, “We need clarity on these expenditures immediately. This isn’t how we typically handle philanthropy.”

Vivek exhaled slowly, his mind already crafting the narrative he needed to share. He composed a response with measured confidence, knowing exactly how to frame Egon’s actions.

“This is all part of the Make America Great Again campaign,” he wrote, allowing himself a small, wry smile as he typed. “The return on investment will be staggering. Beyond the financial gains, think of the PR angle—the goodwill generated with governments and communities worldwide. The doors this will open for us are immeasurable.”

He sent the email and leaned back, waiting. One by one, replies began to trickle in. Most of the board members signaled tentative approval, swayed by Vivek’s strategic framing and reassurances.

Just as Vivek was beginning to relax, his phone buzzed with another call. The name on the screen made his heart skip a beat—Gaye Tusk.

He hesitated for a moment before answering, steeling himself. “Gaye, darling,” he greeted, his voice warm.

“Vivek,” came her rich, melodic reply. “I hear you’ve taken Egon to an ashram. I must say, I’m impressed. It seems to be working wonders.”

Vivek chuckled softly. “Your sources never fail you, Gaye.”

“They don’t,” she replied, her tone light but pointed. “And I’ve heard about this new Egon—the philanthropist. Tell me, is it true?”

“It is,” Vivek said, pride evident in his voice.

There was a pause, and when Gaye spoke again, her tone was softer, more vulnerable. “Do you think this change includes denouncing Grump and his MAGA movement? You know how I feel about that man and the hatred he spreads. Patriotism isn’t what he claims it to be.”

Vivek sighed, rubbing his temple. “That’s... a complicated matter. Egon’s made great strides, but there are still some deeply ingrained beliefs we need to work through.”

“I understand,” Gaye said gently. “One more thing—I’d like to visit before the New Year, if that’s all right. And... I was hoping to bring Lillian.”

The mention of Egon’s estranged daughter sent a pang through Vivek’s chest. Lillian, with her sharp wit and fierce independence, had always clashed with Egon’s more traditional views. Their estrangement had been painful for everyone involved.

“That’s... a delicate matter,” Vivek admitted. “Egon’s feelings about Lillian are... complicated. I’ll need to speak with him first.”

“Of course,” Gaye said, her voice tinged with hope. “But Vivek, this could be a turning point for all of us. Please, do what you can.”

“I will,” Vivek promised. “And Gaye... Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Vivek.”

As the call ended, Vivek set the phone down and stared out at the tranquil ashram grounds. His heart was a tangle of emotions—hope, pride, and a lingering ache for the fractures that still needed mending.

Egon was beginning to heal, to rediscover the man he had once been. And now, they had a chance to rebuild not just their lives but their family.

Tomorrow, he would speak with Egon about Lillian. Today, he allowed himself a moment of quiet joy.

The wind rustled the leaves outside, carrying with it the promise of new beginnings.