52
September 2016
MUMBAI
Pallavi came back home the next day. The media presence outside her residence had thinned. The front-page advertisement in the newspaper seemed to have had the required effect. Save for a few regional channels, most of them had disappeared. The Pallavi Soni and Suyog Gold story was no longer a sensational, TRP-boosting story.
That night, when the doorbell rang, Kangana opened it and smiled at the man outside.
‘Is Pallavi at home?’ he asked, taking off the baseball cap he had worn to hide his face.
Kangana silently led him to Pallavi’s bedroom. Pallavi was lying on her bed, weakened by the effect of the strong medication she was under. Her face lit up when she
saw Aditya.
‘Oh my god!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’re here!’
‘I will arrange for some coffee,’ Kangana volunteered and quietly exited the room.
Pallavi looked at Aditya with tears in her eyes. ‘Thank you for everything, Aditya,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what I would do without you.’ She wiped her tears with the corner of the quilt and continued, ‘Look at how different the two men in my life are.’ One of them has run away, leaving me to deal with the mess. And the other, who owes me nothing, has appeared like a guardian angel.’ Her tears intensified and she started sobbing. Aditya walked up to her and hugged her tightly. It felt good to hold her after this long.
They sat like that silently, his arms wrapped around her, when Kangana re-entered the room. The subtle clatter of the ceramic cups broke the spell and they let go of each other. Kangana placed the cups on the bedside table and left the room again.
‘Tell me, Pallavi,’ he asked. ‘You had mentioned that Suyog Gold had collected over six hundred crores. The transactions in your bank account only add up to around three hundred and fifty-odd crores. Where is the balance?’
Pallavi shook her head. ‘I don’t have a clue. Vicky was managing everything. But for a few photoshoots and cutting a few ribbons, I did not do anything else.’ She got up and walked to the window, her gait still wobbly. She looked outside at the main road down below; at the cars, the traffic, the street vendors. After a few seconds of silence, she said, ‘I trusted him too much.’
‘That’s okay, Pallavi. It is what it is,’ Aditya said soothingly, and then grew thoughtful. ‘Maybe the remainder was accepted in cash. But then, if they don’t have a valid receipt or proof of having paid Suyog Gold, they need not be paid back. So, we can safely assume that only three hundred and fifty crores will be our liability, not six hundred,’ Aditya said. ‘At least for now.’
‘You are talking as if it is three hundred and fifty rupees.’
‘Well. the money has been arranged, Pallavi. Le Da Spire, a company that supplies currency paper, will, through their group company, loan you the money to take care of the immediate requirement. We will figure out how to pay them back. I have some leverage with them, to make them hold on as long as we need. It will help us tide over the chaos,’ Aditya assured her.
That night, as Aditya made his way back home, his mind was not at peace. Was he doing the right thing? Well, the answer was obvious. He wasn’t. But he couldn’t have left Pallavi alone either. He had to take care of her. He had no choice.
53
August–September 2016
MUMBAI
Aditya had been in a meeting, and while he’d felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, hadn’t been able to pick it up. Now, leaving the room, he saw that there were six messages from Pallavi. He read them. She was a bit worried. A journalist had called her, asking for Vicky’s whereabouts. The Commissioner of Police had also given a statement that even though they didn’t suspect Pallavi to be directly involved in the match-fixing saga, they would be calling her for questioning anyway.
Aditya sent her a message promising to meet her that night.
₹
When he entered her house, it was quite apparent that Pallavi had been drinking for a while.
‘Where do you think Vicky would be?’ she asked Aditya when she saw him. ‘Why do you think he ran away from me? Was it only money? Was it fear? What Aditya, what was it?’ she slurred, her eyes wild with pain.
Aditya’s heart ached for her, but there was nothing he could say.
‘Do you think he could be in trouble?’ Pallavi asked. ‘Oh my god! What if he’s hurt … or’ She started sobbing. ‘Aditya walked up to her and put an arm around her. ‘It will be fine, Pallavi. Everything will be fine.’
She then showed him her phone. There were quite a few messages. She scrolled up and showed him what the journalist had sent her. It was an upsetting message implying her involvement in all the scams attributed to Vicky.
‘You should not respond to these messages. Just ignore them.’
‘For how long?’ she asked.
‘Till things settle down. And they will, fairly soon. You have sixty days to pay your customers back. Le Da Spire will transfer the money over the next four weeks. Once that comes in and you start repaying your customers, all this chaos will die down. And hopefully they will find Vicky soon and recover the balance money.’
‘I just want to forget everything and get away, Aditya.’ She cried into his shirt. ‘Will that ever be possible … ever?’
54
August–October 2016
MUMBAI
Around the same time, the Q1 results in financial year 2016-17 started coming out. Mercantile Bank, a leading private sector bank in the country, declared a loss for the first time. This had never happened before. The darling of the investor community till then, Mercantile Bank was pilloried for the losses. The management put it down to lack of economic revival in the country and increase in NPAs. A few months before, suspecting the bank to be understating its NPAs, the RBI had conducted a thorough audit and come to a conclusion that its apprehensions were right. This had forced the bank to make incremental loss provisions, which impacted the profitability of the bank in Q1 2016–17.
The Finance Minister summoned Aditya for a meeting. As usual, Ranjeet Kumar was the messenger. When a riled Aditya asked for the agenda, he was told that it was a normal meeting and the FM wanted a free-flowing chat with him.
‘Look Mr Kesavan,’ the FM began the conversation, once the two of them had settled in the minister’s plush study. ‘If I remember correctly, you had claimed in Delhi, when the recapitalization plan was being discussed, that you would be able to manage private banks better.’ Aditya remembered this too. At that time, he had said this because he had limited control over the public sector banks, but full control over the private sector ones. He stayed silent now and the FM went on, his voice taunting. ‘Is this what happens when you have full control, Mr Kesavan? Bank after bank is declaring losses and the RBI seems to be toothless. Ineffective.’ He shook his head. ‘We cannot have the RBI look weak, Mr Kesavan.’
Aditya felt cornered. It was as if he could do nothing right. From the golden boy, handpicked by the PM himself, he seemed to have become a liability, at least for those in power in the government. He knew that the media still loved him, seeing him as a saviour – an upright, honest RBI governor who did not hesitate to speak his mind. But here, in the corridors of power, the Finance Minister seemed to be fast reaching a place where he would like nothing better than to see the last of Aditya Kesavan.
When Aditya didn’t respond, the FM added, ‘Mr Kesavan, is there a problem that I need to be aware of?’
‘No sir, nothing at all.’
‘Then why is it that every initiative of the government seems to be getting blocked at your end, and needs more than a fair bit of push from our side?’
Aditya looked at him. The comment worried him. Was he going to be given the boot? But it was not easy to sack an RBI governor.
‘After the initial bonhomie, everything has been a struggle. Consider it yourself … the NPA conundrum, the dividend issue, the Bitcoin controversy, the gold scheme, everything. So far, I have overlooked every single act of insub
ordination, but almost everything has become so tedious. Are you happy here? Or are you considering yourself as some sort of a crusader? Remember, the Prime Minister had handpicked you from a truckload of candidates because he felt that you would be able to better serve the nation.’
‘I am not sure why you feel this way, sir.’ Aditya looked at the FM. ‘I would be happy to address the issues bothering you.’ His voice was earnest.
‘The Reserve Bank of India was set up to serve the government of the country, to assist the government in the decisions it takes. To work towards the development of the nation.’
‘Well, it is also there to make sure that the government takes the right decisions, sir,’ Aditya said politely. ‘Development is the government’s agenda. Controlling inflation and keeping it under control through tweaking of interest rates and monetary policy is the RBI’s. Within those realms, we make sure that everything the government wants to do gets done.’
‘The problem, Mr Kesavan, is that you still consider our agendas to be different. There are no two agendas at play here. There is just one single agenda – the nation first. We are all working towards a common cause.’
‘You have to tell me, sir, what is the status of the Reserve Bank of India? Are we autonomous? Or are we subservient to the government of the day?’ Aditya asked. He knew he was risking offending the minister, but he couldn’t help himself.
The FM only laughed mildly. ‘You know, Aditya, your predecessor summed it up brilliantly. He said, “The RBI is totally free – within the limits set by the government.”’
‘A fly in the bottle would be a better illustration, sir. Is it free? Well, yes. Within the confines of the bottle, it is. I guess you expect the RBI to be that.’
‘I did not say that, Aditya. Did I?’
‘You almost did, sir. We will try to be more accomodating and less confrontational, if that is what you feel about us,’ Aditya said
‘Thank you, Mr Kesavan. That will be it.’
The men shook hands and Aditya got up to leave. ‘One last thing, Mr Kesavan,’ the FM said.
‘Sir?’
‘The tender for supplying note-printing machines for the Noida facility is closed now, right?’
‘Yes, sir. The tender closed a few days back.’
‘Le Da Spire has put in a bid.’
‘Yes sir. We are taking care of it.’
‘That will be it. Goodnight.’
What Aditya didn’t tell the FM–because he knew that the FM would already be aware of it – was that Le Da Spire was the only one whose equipment met all the specifications that were laid out in the tender.
He got into his car and left for the hotel. The meeting had shown him that the battle lines were drawn. The Finance Minister was making a last-ditch effort to salvage the relationship and get Aditya on his side. Or maybe he was trying to point out his shortcomings to make him defensive and, as a result, submissive.
On the way to the hotel, Aditya was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t hear his phone ring. Finally, his driver turned back and said, ‘Sir, your phone.’
‘Oh yes, yes,’ Aditya said and pulled out the phone from the inside pocket of his jacket. It was Danish Khosla. Maybe the money transfer from Le Da Spire had happened.
‘Hey, sorry, didn’t hear the phone ring. I’m on my way home.’
‘That’s okay, but I just wanted to tell you…’ Danish paused.
‘Tell me what?’ Aditya asked him, wondering what the issue was.
‘We have a problem. Switch on Times Now when you get home.’
55
August-October 2016
DELHI
Balasubramanian Swamy had been a busy man that day. There wasn’t a television studio that he didn’t visit. There wasn’t a journalist he didn’t speak to. He was the man in demand.
His next stop was the Times Now studio. Times Now had interrupted their regular programming to air this interview with him.
Anand Narasimhan, the anchor, was wired and ready to go. Swamy was seated in his chair, facing Anand.
‘Any specific questions you wouldn’t want me to ask?’ Anand asked him, out of courtesy.
‘You know me. Ask the question. You will get the answer,’ Swamy responded. The producer waved out to Anand. They were about to go live. Anand adjusted his tie knot, pulled his coat lapels to wipe out any frontal crease, practised his smile once and looked straight into the camera. The producer began the countdown. Five…four…three…two…one…live.
‘Good evening, viewers. Tonight, stay glued to your TV sets, because we at Times Now are bringing you the breaking news of the decade. We will expose how the government, the Finance Ministry and the Reserve Bank of India – yes, viewers, even the Reserve Bank of India – have come together to cheat the public of India and fill their own coffers. Seems surprising, doesn’t it? We were as surprised as you when we heard this. But tonight, when you hear it here at Times Now, it will not only shock you, but will also shake your faith in this system that we call democracy. We have in our studios Balasubramanian Swamy, Member of Parliament. He’s a man who needs no introduction, so without further ado, over to you, Dr Swamy. But before that, remember, Times Now is the first channel that is breaking this news. You heard it first here, on Times Now!’
The frame cut over to Dr Balasubramanian Swamy as Anand Narasimhan asked his first question. ‘So, Dr Swamy, tell us about the PIL that you have filed in the Supreme Court asking for a stay on the tender for the currency printing press. The PIL where you have alleged wrongdoing and requested for an investigation into the entire tendering process.’
‘They are all crooks,’ Swamy began in his trademark style. ‘There is a lobby at work here. Le Da Spire is a company that had been blacklisted by the Reserve Bank of India. The company’s name features prominently in the Panama Papers. Their lobbyist in Delhi is a scoundrel, a fixer. He is under investigation. And what do we do? We invite that company to bid for the new currency-printing facility that we are setting up in Noida. We are letting them in through the back door. And have you seen the tender specifications? It looks as if someone has copy-pasted them from the product brochures of Le Da Spire equipment. They are all crooks. All of them must go to jail.’
‘But they were blacklisted because of an issue with the currency security paper and not printing machinery, Mr Swamy,’ Anand said, clearly in an attempt to provoke a reaction.
‘Le Da Spire is a company of frauds! They should be shut down. They are supplying the same paper that they have supplied to our printing press to clandestine facilities in Pakistan. Pakistan is printing counterfeit currency on that paper and infiltrating our entire system. This is economic terrorism. No one in India today knows the true amount of currency in circulation because there is a huge supply of counterfeit currency from across the border. All because of Le Da Spire.’
‘Isn’t that an unsubstantiated claim? Baseless speculation, maybe? A figment of your imagination? Aren’t you putting an entire process on the back foot because you are a conspiracy theorist?’
‘Well. It is what is it. Ask the Finance Minister to deny it. Ask him to confirm that Le Da Spire got in without any back-room manoeuvres. I am reasonably sure about what I am saying.’
‘Reasonably sure, Mr Swamy?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s not 100 per cent. “Reasonably sure” leaves scope for you to be wrong. Aren’t you raising a red flag a bit prematurely?’
‘That’s for the government to investigate. Not for me to say. I have raised an issue. The government has to come clean on this. I am just asking for answers that the country deserves.’
‘What does this prove?’ Anand Narasimhan pushed on.
‘That corruption has infiltrated the higher echelons of our financial systems. Counterfeiters have infiltrated our banking system. And the organization behind all this is Le Da Spire. Without their assistance, Pakistan would not have been able to unleash this economic terrorism on us. There is no way we can all
ow Le Da Spire back into this country. It is a mockery of democracy.’
‘And what would be the motivation to bring back Le Da Spire?’
Balasubramanian Swamy laughed. ‘Is there any doubt in your mind? There is none in mine. It is clearly a case of quid pro quo. I’m sure some money has exchanged hands. And that’s the reason why everyone is working overtime to get them in.’
Aditya Kesavan was furious. He picked up his phone and dialled Danish Khosla. His hands were shaking. ‘What the hell is this?’
‘Not on the phone. Let’s meet.’
56
August–October 2016
MUMBAI
Next morning came the news that the Prime Minister had put the entire Le Da Spire deal on hold, pending an investigation by a special team of the CBI. Le Da Spire was back in the CBI net. Notwithstanding that, every newspaper worth its name had the story on the front page.
That night, when Aditya clandestinely came to visit Pallavi at her Juhu home, he mentioned this to her. She panicked. ‘I knew this was too good to be true. But what will we do now? If those guys don’t get the contract, they will pull out of our deal. We will be fucked!’
‘Let’s see. All is not lost, Pallavi. I will ask Khosla to get in touch with them. Haven’t been able to meet him.’ He put his arms around a nervous Pallavi. ‘But you don’t worry.’ He was trying to comfort her, but he knew that she’d be able to tell that he was worried too.
It was well over midnight by the time Pallavi slept off in his arms. Aditya stayed awake. He was awake for a long, long time. He could not fathom what he was doing. Why? Who was Pallavi? What did she mean to him? She was married to someone else. Yes, they had had sex a few times, but wasn’t he giving up too much for a little pleasure? Someone had once said, never sleep with someone whose troubles are more than yours. Pallavi’s troubles were far worse than his. She was lonely. Deserted. Suicidal. But then again, wasn’t he lonely too? And was this just about sex? No, it wasn’t. He looked at her as she slept beside him. She was beautiful. No, not just beautiful – divine. No, this was definitely not about sex. He was in love. And when you love someone, you don’t desert them when they are in trouble.
Don't Tell the Governor Page 14
