Chankya's Chant (46 page)

M
enon was reading the morning newspaper aloud to Ikrambhai. Major Bedi, looking relaxed after six months of incessant electioneering, sat in Gangasagar’s living room sipping tea.

‘With a working majority in the Lok Sabha, the chairman of the victorious alliance shall meet the President of India at 4 pm on Tuesday to stake claim to form the new government. This was decided unanimously at a meeting of the alliance partners. The chairman’s name was proposed by the ruling party and was seconded by Pandit Gangasagar Mishra, the president of the ABNS, one of the largest alliance partners of the ruling party.’

‘Hah!
The
largest, not
one of
the largest!’ exclaimed Ikram as Major Bedi smiled. His formula of having no formula had worked. He took the newspaper from Menon and continued reading. ‘The ABNS, with sixtyfive MPs from Uttar Pradesh, is the largest constituent of the coalition after the ruling party, which won two hundred seats. The coalition has received letters of support from several smaller parties and now has the backing of around three hundred MPs, much more than the two hundred and seventy-two required for a basic majority in the Lok Sabha. The chairman of the alliance shall present a letter to the president providing details of the re-election of the prime minister—the former defence minister—as leader of the ruling party’s delegation to Parliament. He’s also expected to hand over letters of support received by his party from its coalition partners. The president is likely to extend an invitation to the alliance to form the next government at the Centre. The oath-taking ceremony is likely to be fixed for Friday at Rashtrapati Bhavan.’

‘It’s good that the total number of MPs supporting this government are three hundred,’ said Ikram.

‘Why? Because that puts them at twenty-eight more than the halfway mark?’ asked Menon.

‘No, because it puts them thirty-seven short of the halfway mark if the ABNS decides to withdraw support!’ said Ikram, chewing on his paan contentedly while Bedi chuckled.

He sat in the first row—next to Somany’s victorious Prime Minister—watching the scene unfolding at Rashtrapati Bhavan. The President was administering the oath of office to Chandini. She was saying ‘I, Chandini Gupta, do swear in the name of God that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the Constitution of India as by law established, that I will uphold the sovereignty and integrity of India, that I will faithfully and conscientiously discharge my duties as cabinet minister and that I will do right to all manner of people in accordance with the Constitution and the law without fear or favour, affection or ill will.’

Her moving from state to central politics had created a vacuum in Uttar Pradesh. Agrawalji had asked, ‘Who shall we make chief minister? I’m sure Ikram’s still hoping that you’ll offer the position to him.’

Gangasagar had replied, ‘Ikram knows that I plan on acquiring the home portfolio eventually for the ABNS— and him in particular. I’ve told him to lie low for a while. He’ll accept someone else from the ABNS taking the chief minister’s post in Uttar Pradesh.’

‘So whom do we appoint as chief minister for the remaining term of the state government?’ asked Agrawalji.

‘Ram Shankar Dwivedi,’ answered Gangasagar.

‘But that’s preposterous! The lecherous rogue inspired the local rebellion against Chandini. He can’t be trusted!’

‘On the contrary, Agrawalji. I trust him completely.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I still have twenty more photographs to return to him,’ laughed Gangasagar.

‘Gangasagarji, what are you thinking?’ whispered the former defence minister—now new Prime Minister— to him. Gangasagar realised his mind had wandered. ‘I am wondering where Rungta is hiding. I can see our mutual friend, Somany, in the audience. Didn’t you invite Rungta for the ceremony?’ he asked the premier.

‘I did, but I guess he’s busy.’

‘With what?’

‘Finding some other minister to send down a rope-ladder. If Somany can get me to do it, Rungta can find someone too,’ said the prime minister, smiling at the old man who had been the reason behind his clambering down the chopper’s ladder in Siachen. Gangasagar laughed loudly. Everyone turned to look. He wasn’t bothered. He laughed some more.

‘The scumbag refuses to part with the finance, external affairs, defence or home portfolios—the four key ministries. He says that the senior partner of the ruling alliance always holds these four posts along with the post of prime minister. Doesn’t he realise he wouldn’t be in government if it weren’t for the support of the ABNS? So much for having Somany’s man as PM!’ complained Gangasagar as he got up from his chair and paced the room.

‘What do you want?’ asked Ikram.

‘I want Chandini to be minister for external affairs. The global exposure would give her both national and international stature,’ said Gangasagar.

‘There’s only one way you can achieve that. Create a crisis within the ministry of external affairs. A crisis that forces the minister to resign,’ suggested Ikram.

‘That doesn’t seem possible or probable. The minister for external affairs is an old warhorse—and a careful one. He doesn’t even cough without first checking to see if anyone is within earshot. Moreover, he’s stark honest. Honesty is a most dreadful quality—it makes people difficult to manipulate,’ said an exasperated Gangasagar. He sat down again and began to drum the arms of his chair with his fingers.

‘There is another way,’ he said after a moment. ‘Sometimes, to score a goal you have to kick the ball away from the goalpost. The present minister for external affairs is the only one who could realistically take over the finance portfolio if the finance minister were to suddenly resign.’

‘And why would the finance minister do that?’ asked Ikram.

‘Ah! You see, unlike the minister for external affairs, he’s not too honest. It seems that while our friend Somany supported the previous defence minister’s bid for the top job, Rungta supported the finance minister. Our present PM hates the finance minister and will be delighted to lose him from the cabinet. We simply need to provide him with the opportunity. Ikram, put your best boys on the job—discreetly. The finance minister is dangerous to mess with. He’ll feed us to the crocodiles if he gets to know!’

The allocation of the rest of the ministerial portfolios, too, was a tug-of-war. Gangasagar demanded ten berths for the ABNS. He had wanted external affairs for Chandini but was willing to let her remain a minister without portfolio until it could be arranged. In the meantime, he wanted cabinet positions in commerce, telecom, petroleum and agriculture although he was willing to settle for minister of state positions for the other five ABNS MPs whose names were being put forward.

Menon had asked him, ‘Why are you willing to settle for state positions for fifty per cent of your ministerial strength? You should insist on ten cabinet berths.’

‘I’d rather negotiate for the positions that matter. By settling for five I’m now in a position to negotiate for getting our own people into other positions of power— not necessarily within the cabinet,’ said Gangasagar.

‘Such as?’

‘The directorship of the Intelligence Bureau; governorship of the Reserve Bank of India; and the chairman’s position in the Central Board of Direct Taxes. So many of our erstwhile student leaders are now senior enough within the bureaucracy—Brijmohan Rai from Allahabad University, Iqbal Azmi from Aligarh Muslim University, Girish Bajpai from Banaras Hindu University… but more importantly, I want to leave the door open for Chandini to get external affairs.’

‘And why do you particularly want Cabinet positions in commerce, telecom, petroleum and agriculture?’

‘Because our cabinet ministers shall spend the next two weeks sniffing around for every deal that was ever made within their departments, thus giving me ammunition to use against the finance minister!’

Gangasagar and Chandini were at Udyog Bhawan, the headquarters of the department of commerce. An ABNS man was now heading the department as cabinet minister.

‘Land for Special Economic Zones was allotted to private companies at meagre rates,’ said the commerce minister.

‘So what?’ asked Gangasagar, ‘That was as per government policy, right?’

‘Yes. Quantitatively, but not qualitatively.’

‘You’ve lost me,’ said Chandini.

‘The quantity of land acquired and passed on to developers was as per the policy.’

‘But?’ asked a curious Gangasagar.

‘The SEZ policy was framed in order to bring about development of arid wasteland. The building of transport links, power plants, water supply systems, and the addition of concentrated industrial and commercial hubs were supposed to enhance land value. Instead, prime land that was already well connected and developed was given away by the commerce ministry without considering its intrinsic value. Thousands of acres of land were given away to a single company,’ disclosed the commerce minister.