Sat there. Listened. And the moment I arrived, I burst into laughter without even realizing it!

That was a mistake. A serious mistake.

One must never laugh out loud at the wrong moment. It’s indecent. When a man stands before you, earnestly trying to make his case, presenting his livelihood with utmost humility, how can you just stare at him and guffaw? What kind of behavior is that? What were you even thinking? But I suppose it’s pointless telling you all this. You’d just laugh anyway. That’s the kind of person you are.

Early in the morning, a well-dressed, suit-clad, dignified young man awaited me, hands pressed to his chest in reverence, his face lowered in deference. He began his speech with impeccable humility. Not only had we met several times before, he claimed, but we had even spoken on occasion! I ransacked my memory, raking through the ruins of the past, but no fossilized remains of any such acquaintance could be unearthed.

The conversation began with a simple question: “Can I sit down for five minutes?”

The story he unfolded was one that thickened and expanded at the base like a pyramid, the kind where profits widen as they trickle down. In other words, a spice business. Spice Magic Limited Co. A company that collects authentic, premium spices from Coorg and Nilgiris at low prices and exports them to Taiwan in bulk. (For some reason, when he said “export,” I heard “hot air” and—before I could stop myself—I burst into laughter.)

The idea was simple: we purchase a product from them just once. If we don’t, that’s fine too! We just have to persuade someone else to buy it. And that’s it—our job is done! Then, the person we recruited brings in two more, then three, then ten. Imagine that. Have you imagined it? Well, all their profits start accumulating in our account, trickling in like a flood. And those ten people? They go on to bring in twenty, thirty, forty.

Meanwhile, we’re drinking tea… dozing off… wandering around absentmindedly… picking our teeth… scratching at invisible itches… But our bank account? It’s swelling, inflating, overflowing!

The moment he drew a pyramid with his pen and mapped out the honey-laden treasure descending down the tiers, my last shreds of self-restraint collapsed. I laughed uncontrollably. Violating all decorum, I erupted in laughter. Couldn’t we just stop at fifteen, buddy?—I asked silently.

Really sorry. Your grief is deeply regretted.

But here’s something you should note: even though I ended up laughing at the absurdity of this get-rich-quick nonsense, I must confess—at the start, my brain did experience a few electrochemical flickers of temptation. For a moment, I considered joining in! Especially after he flipped open his laptop and showed me their website—stunning visuals! Three glossy cardamoms, Wayanad’s winding roads, Alappuzha’s houseboats, an orchid in full bloom…

Politicians posed in authoritative splendor. Their presence felt almost too sharp, as if the government itself had sent a godfatherly nod of approval. The testimonials were endless. Familiar names scrolled by. Each rags-to-riches story sounded so convincing, so authentic! Photos of these so-called partners, basking in luxury resorts, frolicking in backwaters with their families—email IDs, phone numbers, full addresses proudly displayed.

Then came the brochure. My God, what a masterpiece! If someone had printed a brochure of this quality just for fun, it would cost at least 650 rupees. Though it was just paper, it felt as sturdy as an iron sheet. Thick. Elegant. Beautiful color layout. Impeccable finish. Three copies were handed to me. One for me, two for the soon-to-be-brainwashed victims I was expected to recruit.

And then the final kicker: he personally introduced me to a dozen others already thriving in this grand scheme. People I actually knew! People who were already neck-deep in the pyramid. (For certain reasons, their names remain classified!) And then, like a magician disappearing into thin air, he boarded his crystal chariot and was gone.

Now, dear reader, tell me—after witnessing all this—after seeing the website, the glossy brochure, the endorsement from “prominent” figures, the sheer grandeur of it all—who are you to doubt them? What right do you have to not believe? What possible excuse could you have to not join? Do you have horns on your head or what?

The truth is, it’s neither about having horns nor lacking greed. It’s simply about not ending up like a jackfruit stuck in a tree. Beware of people who talk too much. Especially those who promise quick and effortless wealth. Pyramid schemes are traps, and countless people around us have already been silently ensnared.

Some scams work like fishing. The bait isn’t yanked immediately. They let you nibble, let you feast, let you grow fat and complacent. Then—snap!—you’re caught. You never realize that buried within the bait was a razor-sharp hook. By the time you understand, you’re already floundering, gasping for breath.

This is what has happened to so many before us. Every day, new miracle-money schemes appear. The problem? They showcase trustworthy people to endorse them. Whether these endorsers are knowingly complicit or just naïve is unclear. Either way, they deserve a good smack upside the head. Are they truly helping others or just getting swindled themselves? Hard to tell.

Regardless, thousands invest their last savings into these traps, believing in the fantasy. Initially, money does flow. The easy cash changes their lives. Mattresses and ragged old bedspreads are abandoned in favor of plush imported quilts. The occasional cup of tea is replaced with whisky on the rocks. Family trips to the shrines and temples turn into luxury vacations in Malaysia. They start calling cabs to drive them from their living room to their kitchen. Life is grand.

And then—

Bam. The money stops.

At first, they think it’s a glitch. Maybe a power outage? A minor disruption? A small delay? Nope. This isn’t a flickering bulb. This isn’t a power cut. This is the dam collapsing. The entire system has crumbled. And now?

They are the fish caught in the net. 

Flopping. Struggling. Gasping for air.

Greed is a dangerous thing. There are many superstitions in this world. One of the biggest? The blind belief that a tiny investment will make you a millionaire overnight. That’s sheer nonsense.

What’s done is done. From here on, be logical.

But what truly baffles me is this: with so many people suffering under the weight of unpaid debts, how do these con artists sleep at night? Who in their right mind would offer them a peaceful burial? The Prophet ﷺ himself refused to lead the funeral prayer of someone who died in debt.So dear fraudsters—good luck with your afterlife. You’re going to need it.