Authors: chetan bhagat
‘He is already
doing that,’ I said.
Both of them looked
at me with accusing eyes.
‘My sources
told me. I am not in touch with him,’ I clarified.
‘We can’t
handle
him?’ the CM asked. ‘How can you open a
college without handling people?’
I understood what he
meant by ‘handling’.
‘He can’t
be bought, sir,’ I said. For a second I felt proud of Raghav.
It felt like a good thing to be - someone who can’t be bought.
‘What do you
mean by
cant
be
? Everyone has a price,’
the CM said. ‘He doesn’t,’ I said. ‘I have
known him for years. He’s mad.’
‘Well, he does
want to live, doesn’t he?’ Shukla-ji said. I noticed his
eyes were red.
I looked at the CM.
He shook his head.
‘Shukla-ji is
not in the right frame of mind,’ he said.
‘No, CM sir, I
will not...’ Shukla-ji began.
‘Calm down,
Shukla-ji,’ the CM said, his voice loud. ‘Do you have any
idea what has happened?’
The MLA looked down.
‘You didn’t
even make a plant? Ten per cent here and there doesn’t matter.
But what were you thinking shoving the dirty water into Varuna? This
is Mother Ganga. People will kill us,’ the CM said.
I offered to leave
the room but the CM told me to sit right there.
‘We have
elections next year. Raman, I have always respected your space and
never interfered. But this will take us down.’
‘I will fix
it, CM sir,’ Shukla said, ‘I will, I promise you.’
‘How? By
killing the journalist?’
‘I said it in
anger,’ Shukla-ji said, his tone apologetic.
‘Anger makes
people do a lot of unpredictable things. It makes voters throw out
governments. I know when a scam report has teeth, and when it
doesn’t. This one does’
‘Tell me what
to do, sir,’ Shukla-ji said, ‘And I will do it.’
‘Resign,’
the CM said and got up to leave.
‘What?’
Shukla-ji said, his face looking bleached.
‘It’s
not personal. Resign with grace and maybe you will come back.’
‘Else?’ the MLA said after a pause.
‘Don’t
make me fire you, Shukla. You are a friend,’ the CM said. ‘But
the party is above friendship.’
Realisation slowly
dawned on Shukla-ji. He clenched his fists in anger.
‘It happens.
You will be back,’ the CM said.
He then walked out
briskly with his minions. Hie press was waiting outside for the CM to
give a statement. I followed the CM’s workers to the gate.
‘I came for a
routine visit,’ the CM told the reporters.
‘What is your
view on the Dimnapura Plant scam?’ a reporter shouted hoarsely.
‘I am not
fully aware of the situation. It looks like a smear campaign. Our
party is clear on corruption. Even if there are allegations, we ask
our leaders to step down.’
The CM jostled past
the reporters and sat in his car.
‘So will MLA
Shukla resign?’ one of the reporters managed to jam the mike
close to the CM’s face.
‘That is for
him to decide,’ the CM said, hinting at the inevitable.
The CM’s car
left. I wondered what would happen to my GangaTech. I went back to
Shukla-ji’s room.
‘We will
destroy the newspaper office,’ a party worker was saying to
Shukla-ji.
Shukla-ji did not
respond.
‘Tell us what
to do, Shukla-ji. What did CM sir say?’ another minion
said.
‘Leave me
alone,’ Shukla-ji said. Party workers got the message. They
scuttled away within seconds. Soon only he and I remained in his big
house.
‘Sir?’ I
said. ‘Do you need me?’
Shukla-ji looked at
me. He no longer had his trademark ramrod posture. He slouched on the
sofa, elbow on the armrest and face in his palm.
‘The CM is a
behenchod,’ he said.
I kept quiet.
‘When he
needed his election funding, he came to me. I did his dirty work,
distributing liquor all over the state. Now he screws me.’
‘You will come
out of it, Shukla-ji, you always do.’
‘Nobody gives
a fuck about cleaning the Ganga. Everyone made money on that plan. So
why
me?
I didn’t have
an answer. I felt a tinge of guilt. Maybe Raghav did it to Shukla-ji
because he wanted to get even with me. Or maybe it was my
imagination. Raghav would expose anyone he could.
‘You run
GangaTech properly, okay? I don’t want any mud from here to
reach there,’ he said.
‘Of course,
sir,’ I said. ‘Anyway, you are here, sir. We have big
growth plans’
‘They’ll
lock me up,’ he said calmly, decades in politics making him
wise enough to forecast events.
‘What?’
I said, shocked.
‘Once I
resign, I have no power. Many MLAs have made money in the GAP scam.
Before it spreads, they will lock me up to show they have taken
action.’
‘You are the
MLA, Shukla-ji. The police cannot touch you,’ I said.
‘They will if
the CM asks them. I will go in for a while. Pay my dues if I ever
want a comeback.’
The thought of my
father-figure and mentor going to jail unsettled me. I had very few
people in life 1 could call my own. Shukla-ji counted as one of them.
‘Wait here,’
Shukla-ji said and got up. He went into his bedroom and returned with
a set of keys.
‘Keep it,’
he said. ‘I can’t be seen with such flashy stuff.’
I picked up the
keys. They belonged to the black Mercedes.
‘Your new car?
I can’t.’ I placed the keys back on the table.
‘Keep it for
me. You are like my son. I will also move some money into the trust.
Make the college big’
‘Alone? How
can I do that alone?’ I said, my voice choked. ‘You
haven’t even come to my house.’
‘I can’t
step out of here. My relatives are waiting outside with their
cameras’ he said.
Shukla-ji spent the
next hour explaining to me his various bank accounts and businesses.
He had his people running them, but he was telling me in case of an
emergency. ‘GangaTech is my cleanest business, and can aid my
comeback one day.’
He wrote out his
resignation in front of me and asked me to fax it to Lucknow.
The fax machine
beeped as the transmission started. ‘He fucked us, eh?’
Shukla-ji said.
‘Who?’ I
said.
‘Your friend.
I had him fired. He got me fired.’
‘He tried to
ruin my life. I will ruin his life,’ I vowed.
Every newspaper of
Varanasi city carried the Dimnapura Plant scam story on the front
page the next morning. Shukla-ji, whose resignation became public,
had become the new villain in town and Raghav Kashyap the new hero.
Everyone spoke highly of the stupid pink paper. Local television
channels covered the scam for hours on end.
I flicked through
the channels on my new forty-inch LCD television. I paused when I saw
Raghav being interviewed.
‘It took us
two months of secret work to get all the evidence on the scam.
Everyone knew this MLA was shady, but there just wasn’t proof.
Our team did it,’ Raghav said smugly. He had lost weight, and
looked sleep-deprived with his unshaven face and dishevelled hair.
Yet, he had a glint in his eye.
‘Who is your
team?’ the reporter asked him.
‘Well, we are
a small newspaper called
Revolution
2020.
There
are four of us, including me. We don’t have much experience but
we are passionate about our work.’
‘What are you
passionate about?’
‘Making a
difference. Changing India for the better. That is what we live for,’
Raghav said.
‘Is it true
that you believe India will have a revolution in the year 2020?’
‘Yes, but we
all have to work towards it and make sacrifices for it.’
‘What exactly
will the revolution be for?’
‘A society
where truth, justice and equality are respected more than power. Such
societies progress the most.’
‘Can you
explain that?’
‘Power-driven
societies resemble animal societies. “Might is right” is
the rule of the jungle and applies to beasts. And beasts do not
progress, humans do.’
I turned off the TV.
I couldn’t take his bullshit anymore. Neither could Shukla’s
men.
Nitesh, one of the
party workers, called me in the morning.
‘You smashed
what?’ I said on the phone.
‘His only
computer is in pieces. We took hammers and broke the printing press
too.’
‘Nobody saw
you?’
‘We went at
night. Ransacked the office. Bastard. He’s finished.’
I got ready for
work. I saw the Mercedes parked outside. I had a less than 300-yard
commute to the office. Yet, I wanted to go in my new car.
I thought about
Raghav. After yesterday’s bravado and all that attention, a
plundered office was all he was left with.
He had no job, no
business and soon nobody would give a fuck about his paper after this
story died.
‘Where, sir?’
the driver said.
‘Office,’
I said.
I made up dialogues
to say to Raghav in my head.
‘
The
average-looking
dumb
Gopal
Mishra,
the
boy
you
had
preached
to,
saying,
“
you
can
try
again
next
year",
is
sitting
in
a
Mercedes.
You
have
a
broken
printing
press.
And
you
think
you
are
handsome,
right?
Well,
soon
I
will
make
your
girlfriend
mine.
The
girl
you
stole
from
me!
‘Sir,’
the driver prompted. We had reached office.
I entered my office.
I sank into the leather chair and closed my eyes. I visualised
Raghav’s face when I told him, ‘Aarti is with me.’
It would be amazing. I had planned it all. I would go to his office.
I would drop the Mercedes keys on his table. I even had some lines
ready.
‘Sometimes
losers get ahead in life. Never forget that,’ I said out loud,
to practise for D-day.
I still didn’t
have the right lines to break the news about Aarti being mine. I
decided to try a couple of them.
‘Buddy, I am
sorry to say this but Aarti is mine,’ I mumbled.
That didn’t
sound manly enough.
‘Aarti and I
are a couple. Just wanted you to know,’ I tried a casual one.
Couldn’t quite pull it off.
How
do
you
come
up
with
a
suitable
sentence
to
convey
something
you
have
meant
to
say
for
years?
I
wanted
my
words
to
bomb-blast
him,
to
hit
him
like
a
lethal
weapon.
1
wanted
him
to
know
that
he
had
made
me
feel
inadequate
all
my
life.
I
wanted
him
to
burn
with
jealousy
seeing
my
car,
my
life,
and
hurt
like
hell
for
losing
the
girl
he
stole
from
me.
I
wanted
to
tell
him
‘
I
am
better
than
you,
asshole,
’
without
actually
saying
it.
Aarti’s call
disrupted my thoughts.
‘They attacked
his office,’ she said, her voice disturbed.
‘Oh, really?’
I acted surprised.
‘
Revolution
2020
cant be published. The press is broken,’ she
said.
I scanned the files
on my desk. I didn’t care if the stupid rag came out or not.
‘You there?’
Aarti said.
‘MLA Shukla
could be jailed,’ I said.
‘He should,
isn’t it? He stole money and dirtied the river.’
‘Are you on
his side or mine?’ I said to Aarti, irritated.
‘What? How is
this about sides?’ she said.
‘Are you with
me?’ I said.
‘Huh?’
she said.
‘Are you?’
‘Yes. But
shouldn’t we wait to tell Raghav till he settles down?’
‘Will he ever
settle down?’ I said.
She went quiet.
‘Come home,’
I said.
‘Your place?’
she said. ‘You are finally showing me your new home?’
‘Yes.’
‘Tomorrow? I
have a morning shift, will be done by three.’
‘I’ll
send my car,’ I said.
I kept one eye on
the TV and another on the porch as I waited for the Mercedes to
arrive with Aarti. The afternoon rain had slowed down traffic, and
the car took longer than it should have. Images of Shukla-ji’s
arrest flickered on TV.
‘I have done
no wrong. I will be out soon,’ he proclaimed on one of the
channels. He had pre-empted his own arrest to win some public
sympathy. He had called me before going to jail. He seemed relaxed.
Perhaps he had cut a deal with the party. Or maybe he didn’t
realise that the party had made him the fall-guy.
‘It’s
not so bad. If I pay, jail is like a hotel,’ he had told me.
I saw the black car
approach. My heart beating fast, I rushed out.
She stepped out of
the car. She had come in her work sari.
‘Wow, you have
a bungalow?’ she said. It’s not “mine”, it’s
“ours”, I wanted to tell her, but didn’t.