“Sir, you try opening window?”
Bob is confused for a moment. Why would he try to open the window?
“Sir...window open...then maybe connection possible? Other peoples tries...work sometimes!”
Bob nods and smiles before getting into the elevator, hoping for one of those “sometimes”.
He unlocks the door and walks into his room.
As he pulls the drapes apart, the bright sunlight filters in through the glass window panes. He switches off the air conditioning and opens the windows. A gust of hot air hits him in the face, reminding him of a ceiling fan that could still offer him some respite.
He pulls the table closer to the window and switches on his laptop.
Much to his own amusement, he mutters a prayer under his breath before trying to connect. The beliefs of the land seemed to be rubbing off on him too.
Maybe it is the window trick or just maybe, the Gods are pleased him after all!
Bob lets out a whoop of exultation when the connection goes through and he manages to log in.
The euphoria does not last long for he has no new mail.
Bob wonders what could possibly be keeping Maarten. It is quite unlike him to be so late. Maybe there had been another development that distracted him....
Bob had made the promised call to Maarten right after he had returned to his hotel room. The two had struck a good rapport when they had first met in 2009 as reporters covering the G-20 summit. Maarten was a senior correspondent with the BBC. Since then, they had often tapped each other for leads on stories that they happened to be working on or which might be of interest to the other. Maarten had answered the phone almost immediately and came straight to the point without bothering with customary pleasantries.
“Bob, this must be the mother of all coincidences. I mean...I had called to get you to put me on to Chandresh Rajan and Priya tells me you are in India and with the man himself!”
Bob chuckled.
“Hello Maarten, I am good and hope you are too! So tell me, what do you want with Chandresh, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Maarten barrelled on, ignoring Bob’s not-so-subtle dig at the lack of a greeting.
“Bob, I need some information on microfinance institutions in India. I assume Chandresh will be able to help me with this?”
“What...are you working on a story on the microfinance sector?”
“Well, not exactly, I’m actually working on a story on pension funds. You know, how they are managing their investments given the economic meltdown and all that.”
Bob’s interest was piqued.
“Okay, is it that you notice a pattern with pension funds being invested in the microfinance sector in India?”
Maarten let out a whistle.
“Okay that was sharp, even for you!”
Bob let out a shout of laughter at the backhanded compliment.
“Actually, no. Just that I happen to be doing a story on the microfinance sector in India, obviously focusing on the international investment pouring into the sector, Wall Street being at the top of the list.”
Maarten replied after an infinitesimal pause.
“Looks like my job is going to be a lot easier than I thought. So have you analysed the investment patterns, investor profiles...who are the big boys out there?”
“Well, it’s the usual suspects. Most of the big venture capital funds are on the bandwagon: Lemoia, Alexander Zaimis—he has a big stake in at least two of the blue-chip MFIs—then there is the IT moghul, Jay Gupta, and of course the Indian IT giant, Raghav Shetty.”
“Ever heard of Tejasvi Enterprises?”
Bob frowns.
“No, can’t say the name rings a bell.”
There was a pause.
“They are big players, with big money invested in two of the global giants among the MFIs—SAMMAAN Microfinance in India and Kapo in Nigeria. A few of our pension funds in turn have invested heavily in “Tejasvi.”
The mention of SAMMAAN set off warning bells in Bob’s head. Could this possibly be a lead? What was Tejasvi and who were the people behind it?
He hadn’t realized that he’d said it out loud until Maarten responded.
“I am trying to find out. All I know from a Google search is that the company was incorporated in Mauritius.”
Bob chewed his lower lip as he tried to activate his tired brain cells.
“Mauritius...who can we tap there... Wait, I know! I have a contact there, a guy called Abdul. Let me call him and ask him to dig around a bit.”
Maarten was excited.
“That’s excellent! I knew I could count on you, my man!”
“Let us not get ahead of ourselves, Maarten. The lead may take us nowhere.”
Bob struck a note of caution, if only to dampen his own rising excitement.
After promising to get in touch as soon as he got hold of some information, Bob ended the call.
He checked his watch. It was a quarter past one in the afternoon.
What was the time difference between India and Mauritius?
A quick Google search revealed that Mauritius was an hour and a half behind.
He suspected Abdul would be at work by now. Abdul ran a tourist agency in Mauritius and was extremely resourceful. Bob crossed his fingers and called him.
The phone was answered after a couple of rings.
“Hello Abdul, this is Bob from The New York Post. How are you?”
“Bob sir! How are you? It is so nice to hear from you after all this time...are you coming over?”
Not a bad idea. Maybe once he was done with the story, he could check with Priya if she could take some time off and join him in Mauritius. The idea appealed to him.
“Hopefully soon, Abdul, but right now I called to ask you for a favour.”
“Anything, sir, Abdul is always at your service!”
“That is very kind of you, Abdul. I need information on a company called Tejasvi Enterprises, which was incorporated in Mauritius.”
Abdul sounded hesitant.
“What kind of information? Are they doing illegal things?”
Bob hastened to clarify.
“Not really, at least not as far as I know. Just that they seem to have invested big money in the sector that I am doing a story on. I wanted to check out their background, their promoters, their line of business and so on.”
“Okay, give me a few hours. Let me see how much I can find out and I’ll call you back.”
After hanging up, Bob tried calling Chandresh to check on his whereabouts, but there was no response.
Biting into an apple, Bob opened his laptop and started browsing through the DRHP (Draft Red Herring Prospectus) of SAMMAAN Microfinance that he had downloaded from their website. Next, he ran a search for “Tejasvi”.
Sure enough, there it was!
On page 95, it said that Tejasvi Enterprises had bought a large number of shares, totalling up to nearly 15% of SAMMAAN’s share capital. The DRHP suggested that Tejasvi Enterprises had bought the shares at par value during SAMMAAN’s first round of institutional equity sales.
Bob was intrigued. An investor who was virtually unknown in the microfinance sector was part of the very first round of institutional equity sales. What made the MFI invite Tejasvi to partake in its equity sales? There had to be a connection there. Something didn’t quite add up.
Tired of trying to solve the puzzle, Bob ended up dozing off on the chair.
The incessant ringing of his phone woke him up. His sleep-addled brain took a minute to process his whereabouts before he sat up with a start. The phone had stopped ringing by then, but he had grabbed it to check who had called. A cursory glance at the time revealed that he had been sleeping for more than an hour. He wondered if it was the heat that had brought on the spell of drowsiness. He had clean forgotten to shut the window and switch the AC back on.
The missed call was from Abdul. Did he have some information already?
With impatient fingers, he
hit the call button.
It rang for a while before Abdul answered. He sounded a little out of breath.
“Sorry, sir, I was just making some lunch.”
“I am sorry I did not take your call earlier, Abdul. I was actually sitting around waiting for you to call, and then I just fell asleep!”
Bob laughed.
“Must be the heat, sir.!”
“I guess so, Abdul. So, tell me, do you have news for me?”
“A bit, sir, not everything.”
“I will need some more time to get details on the company’s operations and interests, etc., but basically it is a venture capital fund. And the major stakeholder is a company called KPK Enterprises, based in Singapore.”
Bob was intrigued. The trail seemed to be growing!
Taking his silence for disappointment, Abdul apologized profusely.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get you more information. Give me another day?”
Bob hastened to reassure him.
“Abdul, you’ve done a great job. This is a very important piece of information, thank you so much for your help. And please do let me know if you find out anything else.”
After hanging up, Bob immediately dialled Maarten.
Maarten picked up after a few rings, his voice a mix of surprise and excitement.
“Don’t tell me you have some news too!”
Bob grinned as he told him what he’d discovered.
“I don’t know why, but I get the feeling that the trail is headed somewhere big. We need to follow this one for sure. Do you have any sources in Singapore or should I employ mine? If something emerges I could even fly out to Singapore, it’s a matter of four odd hours from here.”
“But wait, tell me what you’ve got? Sorry, I got carried away in my excitement!”
He could almost hear the smile in Maarten’s voice as he had responded.
“No sweat, Bob. The news I have is that Tejasvi just made an exit from SAMMAAN and made a killing in the process.”
“What?”
“The news item just showed up while I was digging around. They’ve made huge profits. And there is pattern to it...they have already been down this road once...and come back through yet another QIP6...!”
Bob was stunned.
“You mean they had already sold out once before from SAMMAAN and then re-entered?”
“Exactly...let me read out a small piece from the report for you. I will, of course, mail you the entire piece along with some other material I have.”
Bob listened intently as Maarten began to read.
“Interestingly, Tejasvi Securities Mauritius held 15% of SAMMAAN’s shares up to August 2010 but exited the company during the first week of September as per shareholding data available on BSE. Tejasvi Securities then strangely re-entered SAMMAAN through yet another QIP offered at a lower price per share, at a very steep discount on the prevailing stock price. The QIP issue opened in the second week of September 2010 and closed five days later…. Tejasvi sold the stocks subsequently on October 1, making a huge profit of Rs 270 crores on the entire transaction.”
“That is another huge killing!”
“So it appears, Bob...so it appears!”
“So what do we do next?”
“What do you think? Should we dig deeper? To be honest, this is not really the focus of my story.”
Bob quickly interjected.
“Maarten, can I ask you for a favour? This whole thing has me thinking in a whole new direction. I’m going to scratch some more to get to the bottom of the holding company trail. And I might need your help with some of the legwork.”
“Of course, Bob, I’d be glad to be of help. Maybe we could look at running a parallel story if something big comes out of it, you know, sort of like a joint operation!”
Bob smiled, thinking no journalist worth his salt would ever be guided by pure altruism when it came to a story that had the kind of ramifications as this one did.
A loud ping brings Bob back to the present.
It is the promised mail from Maarten.
Bob feels an all-too-familiar tingle at the back of his neck, a definite indication that he is on the verge of making an important breakthrough.
He quickly opens the mail and starts scanning through the documents Maarten has sent him. His instinct had not let him down after all. They were definitely onto something big here.
He suddenly has an epiphany and quickly glances at his watch. Singapore was just two and a half hours ahead of India. It must be late evening there.
He picks up his phone and dials Ron Whitefield, his colleague in Singapore, even as his mind continues to process all the information that he has received in the last few hours.
There is a long ring at the other end before the call goes through to Ron’s voicemail.
Bob’s lips curve in a faint smile as he listens to Ron, in his clipped British accent, request his caller to leave their name and number after a beep.
“Ron, this is Bob, Robert Bradlee from the New York bureau. Please call me the minute you hear this...top urgent!”
Bob slumps down into the couch, wondering idly if Lady Luck had favoured Chandresh too.
CHAPTER 13
GANDHIPURA, 3 OCTOBER 2010
Chandresh looks at the goon from the corner of his eye. Radhakrishna was supposedly part of the school administration. But his size makes Chandresh wonder if he hadn’t been a boxer in a previous life. He discreetly looks at his watch. It has been three hours since he was told to wait. He wonders if there is any point to it. Maybe he would be summarily dismissed in another hour or two?
“Do you have any idea when Ms Kumudini is likely to meet me?”
The Boxer gives him a baleful glance in response.
“Firstly, you do not have an appointment. Secondly, she has been kind enough to accept your request!”
Thirdly, shut up unless you want your face rearranged, Chandresh thinks to himself.
He pulls out his phone, thinking of calling Bob. But the phone network seems weak and anyway, there is not much he can tell Bob without Radhakrishna listening in. He slips his phone back into his pocket and leans back in his chair.
Just then, the peon enters with a cup of tea.
For all his hostility, Radhakrishna has been a thoughtful host. This is the third cup of tea he has been served. A plate of assorted biscuits lies on the table next to him. Chandresh wonders idly if the hospitality is on Kumudini Potluri’s orders.
Chandresh gives the peon a friendly smile, who seems about to respond but catches Radhakrishna’s eye and scurries away after placing the cup noisily on the table.
Chandresh smiles determinedly at Radhakrishna and receives a glowering look in response.
Shrugging, Chandresh picks up the cup. The tea is particularly sweet, almost as if to make up for the company.
He had taken leave of Bob at the main road leading to the Gandhipura market more than five hours ago.
He had hailed the first auto that came his way.
“Padmavathi Nagar pothara?”
Thankfully, the driver agreed without any fuss—a pleasant change from his whimsical city-bred colleagues who were notorious for quoting exorbitant amounts.
The auto driver politely requested him to move towards his right to ensure balance. A tad puzzled, Chandresh nevertheless tried to comply and settled down on the middle of the seat.
During the bumpy ride through pot-holed streets, Chandresh wondered how to explain his sudden appearance to Kumudini and get her to agree to an interview. They were barely halfway when his reverie was broken by a huge thud. The auto toppled to the left and came to a screeching halt. Chandresh was thrown to the side and hit his head against a rod. It took him some time to recover and compose himself. As he had stepped out, he saw that the left wheel had come off. Even while profusely apologizing, the auto driver pointed out that he had asked Chandresh to sit to the extreme right and not dead centre.
Still smarting from the blow to his he
ad, Chandresh glared at him and handed him a twenty-rupee note before walking away.
Although Ramu had mentioned a landmark or two while scribbling down the school’s address on a piece of paper, Chandresh kept getting lost and retracing his steps. It turned out that the auto had dropped him off at least a couple of kilometres away from his destination. As he plodded on in the oppressive heat, he realized he had no way of knowing if his quest was even going to yield any returns, but he couldn’t possibly turn back.
Finally, he had come upon a half broken board that read Rajaji Nagar. Such was the joy he had felt on spotting the board that he had wondered idly if he would be happier standing at the pearly gates! Yet another passerby had given him directions to Sowjanya International School and kindly added that it was hardly a three minute walk from where they stood. Chandresh was hard pressed not to give him a hug out of sheer relief.
Finally, he stood before the massive gate that guarded the premises of Sowjanya International School. As he made to enter, his path was barred by a uniformed guard with a large moustache, an abrasive voice and a hand on his shoulder.
Chandresh mustered his most polite tone.
“Excuse me, I am here to meet...”
“No one is allowed to go in. The school is closed for two days.”
Clearly, the management wanted to protect itself from nosy intruders.
Chandresh realized that he would never get into the compound if he were to reveal his true identity. One look at the high compound walls revealed that stealth wouldn’t work either. So how to get past Mr Moustache?
After some quick thinking, he decided that aggression would be the best way forward.
“If you don’t let me go in, you are bound to lose your job!”
That got him the man’s attention. His composure cracked and an element of uncertainty crept into his body language.
“Listen, I am from the auditor’s office. The income tax guys are coming again. I have some important papers here that I need to get to your boss before they arrive. If you don’t let me in, I’ll simply take them back. There will be a lot of trouble thereafter and your boss surely won’t be happy to know that you were the cause!”
The man’s face lost all colour and Chandresh knew his ploy had worked.
Where Angels Prey Page 9
