He Cheated Everyone in the Village — Until Life Conned Him Back

THE MAN WHO CHEATED EVERYONE — EXCEPT LIFE

(A Ponmanipudi Story)

Murugappa could sell water to the river.

Everyone in Ponmanipudi knew this.

If there was a man who could convince you that your watch was actually his watch, and you had only been borrowing it all these years — it was Murugappa.

“Conman-aa...nana...ayoo?” Murugappa would protest.

“Cheating is a strong word. I only… explain things differently.”

People laughed.

And still lost money.

He had cheated farmers, shopkeepers, distant relatives, and once — impressively — the temple committee without touching the donation box.

Yet somehow, Murugappa always smiled.

Because Murugappa was not born a conman.

He was once a circus magician.

In his younger days, Murugappa travelled with a small, forgotten circus.

Card tricks. Coins behind ears. Rope tricks. Disappearing pigeons.

Children clapped.

Adults smiled.

Money was good.

“Magic is about timing,” his trainer had told him.

“Pause one second longer — people believe.”

Murugappa believed that too.

But one day, the circus folded up..

Owner died. Elephants retired. Circus fell into bad times...

Audience stopped coming...

Magic, it seemed, no longer paid.

Murugappa came back to Ponmanipudi with empty pockets and surprisingly big confidence...

And slowly… magic changed shape.

A trick here.

A promise there.

“Government scheme coming,” he’d say.

“Put money now, double later.”

“Land value will shoot up da,” he’d whisper.

“Buy fast.”

People trusted him because he spoke smoothly, confidently...

Because he smiled easily.

Because he never sounded desperate.

And because — strangely — he never looked happy after cheating someone.

That part confused people.

One evening, Murugappa sat at Appuswamy’s tea stall, counting money.

Appuswamy watched him carefully.

“Murugappa,” he asked, “why you do all this...why?”

Murugappa shrugged.

“Life taught me.”

“Life taught cheating-aa?”

Murugappa smiled thinly.

“No. Life taught me Illusion.”

Dr. Chari, who had been listening quietly, looked up.

“What illusion?” he asked.

Murugappa stirred his tea too long.

“That if I’m clever enough,” he said slowly,

“I can control how things turn out.”

Chari didn’t reply immediately...

“Circus taught me,” Murugappa continued.

“If people believe, it becomes real for them.”

Chari nodded.

“For a moment,” he said.

Murugappa laughed.

“Moment is enough sometimes.”

But moments add up.

Slowly, Ponmanipudi changed around Murugappa...

People stopped laughing freely near him.

Stopped trusting his compliments.

Stopped inviting him home.

Money came.

Something else quietly left.

One night, Murugappa sat alone in his house.

He tried a card trick.

The cards slipped.

Hands were shaking.

“Old age,” he muttered.

But deep inside, something else trembled.

A week later, Murugappa fell sick.

Nothing dramatic.

Just weakness.

Fear.

Doctors. Tests.

For the first time, he couldn’t talk his way out.

Dr. Chari sat beside him.

“Don’t worry,” Murugappa joked weakly. “I’ll escape this also.”

Chari smiled gently.

“This is not a trick,” he said.

Murugappa swallowed.

“Doctor,” he whispered,

“do you think I cheated too much?”

Chari looked at him carefully.

“No,” he said.

“I think life cheated you.”

Murugappa frowned.

“Life?”

“Yes,” Chari said.

“It convinced you that illusion is power.

But illusion only works when someone is watching.”

Murugappa closed his eyes.

“All my life,” he said slowly,

“I thought I was fooling others.”

Chari nodded.

“But actually…?”

Murugappa exhaled.

“Life fooled me into thinking I was winning....but i was actually fooling myself sir..”

Silence settled.

Murugappa recovered.

He stopped conning.

Not dramatically.

Not publicly.

He just… didn’t start again.

Sometimes, children saw him doing small magic tricks near the banyan tree.

Coins appeared.

Cards danced.

No money changed hands.

One child asked him,

“Anna, why you don’t cheat now?”

Murugappa smiled.

“Because magic is for wonder,” he said.

“Cheating is for fear.”

That evening, Appuswamy whispered to Chari,

“Murugappa changed.”

Chari sipped his tea.

“No,” he said softly.

“He just stopped being fooled.”

And Murugappa —

the man who once cheated everyone —

finally understood the greatest trick of all:

That life doesn’t punish you for cheating others.

It quietly lets you believe

you are cheating life…

until you realise...

you never were.. .....but yourself....!