Prabhakaran Kurup was sitting on the East verandah of his palatial mansion, reading the editorial page of the Financial Express. This had been his afternoon routine since many years now. He enjoyed his tea, along with keeping up to date with what was happening in the world of business. The breeze coming across the small pond made it all the more worthwhile.

The three people walked up from the southern end of the verandah. They came near his chair, and waited. A few moments later, Kurup looked up.

The one with the long grey hair looked at Kurup and nodded.
“Shall we go, Prabhakaran ?”
“Is it time already ? I still have a few things that I need to take care of”
“You have taken care of almost everything. You can relax now. Let others do their bit”

With a slight reluctance, Kurup got up. All four of them walked along the verandah, going into the house through the entrance near the prayer room. Just before going inside, Kurup looked back at the chair and smiled.

[Five hours later …]

Good Evening, and welcome to News at 8. I am Nazneen. The king of the Indian publishing industry, Prabhakaran Kurup passed away today afternoon.
He was found dead in a chair on the verandah, at his house in Delhi. The cause of death has been declared as natural. He was 86. He is survived by his wife, three children, five grandchildren, two great-grandchildren, and his extended family of around 3,000 employees all over the world. … …