Nikhil cut Anand’s line and returned to Vikram’s conference call.
‘Vikram, my apologies for interrupting the call. There is a small crisis here.’
‘Crisis is never small, my friend. Had it been small, it wouldn’t be a crisis.’ And he started laughing. Vikram’s laughter was dutifully followed by hesitant laughter by almost everyone on the call—everyone except Nikhil.
‘Vikram, we have had an accident. Pranesh, our cashier, is dead. He lost his life in a hit-and-run accident on Eastern Express highway last night.’
‘What?’ It was a shocked Vikram this time. There was pin drop silence on the call; no one was laughing anymore. ‘Are you serious? How and when did this happen?’
‘No one knows, Vikram. It happened sometime last night. All I know is that his body was found by passers-by on a bushy stretch of road between Mulund and Thane. The impact was so great that the bike had rolled off the road into the bushes. The cops saw the ID card on his body and called us. That’s all the information I have. I’m going down to the branch but I’ll update you once I have more information. You’ll have to excuse me.’
‘No issues, Nikhil. You manage the issue at hand. That is more important. Call me once you’ve taken stock of the situation.’
‘Yes Vikram.’ Nikhil hung up. He ran down to the ground floor branch and straight to Anand’s cabin. Two uniformed cops were there. The look on Anand’s face was that of a pained man, partly on account of the grief of losing a colleague and largely on account of the stress of having to deal with the situation.
The Powai Police Station, under whose jurisdiction the accident had taken place, had deputed two smart-looking cops. Probably the fact that they were dealing with foreign bankers influenced the choice of who was assigned.
‘Nikhil Suri. I’m the cluster manager.’ Nikhil extended his hand even as he introduced himself.
‘Myself Sub-Inspector Kailash Nath More from the Powai Thana.’
‘How did this happen, sir?’
‘Hit and run. Some big vehicle hit Mr Rao’s motorcycle. We find body in morning.’ It would have been easier if Inspector More spoke in Hindi, but he persisted with broken English.
‘Do we know who, or rather what, hit him?’
‘No. How we will know? It happen middle of night.’ More suddenly took offence to the tone Nikhil used. The irritation in the policeman’s voice was quite evident. Wasn’t he supposed to be the one asking questions?
‘Sorry sir, I’m extremely sorry. That was not what I meant,’ Nikhil quickly corrected himself. Nikhil looked at Anand. ‘Family? Have they been told?’
‘No boss. He stays alone. We haven’t spoken to his parents yet.’
‘Do you know where he was going that time of the night?’ It was More. He wanted to take charge of the conversation.
‘Oh. Thane is where he stays. I think he would be going home at that time,’ Anand responded.
‘He travel everyday from Thane to Bandra?’
‘Pranesh was earlier in the Thane branch. He got transferred a few months ago to the Bandra Branch. I had told him a couple of times to shift closer to Bandra, but I guess he was waiting for the lease on his house in Thane to get over.’
‘That makes sense, sahib,’ the constable spoke up, looking at the Sub-Inspector.
‘Hmm. . .’
‘Where is the body now, Mr More?’ Nikhil forced his way into the discussion.
‘It is in the government hospital waiting for the doctors to do post-mortem.’
‘By when do you think they’ll release the body sir?’
‘What can we say? It can take two hours, it can also take twelve. Depend on when doctor comes.’
‘What do I tell his parents? I am sure they will ask when I call them.’
This made More frown at Nikhil, then ignore him. He asked a few more questions and left. On his way out, he promised to call Anand the moment the post-mortem was over and they were ready to hand over the body.
After they left, Nikhil looked at Anand. ‘Will you call his parents or do you want me to call?’ Seeing Anand hesitate, he added, ‘Alright, I’ll call them. Give me the number. Ideally someone senior from HR should be calling them. But all of us know how our HR is.’
The call to Pranesh’s parents was the most traumatic call Nikhil had ever made.
‘Yes sir. Our people have been sent to the hospital to coordinate everything. . .Yes sir. . .No, no. . .you don’t need to do anything sir, our Branch Manager in Vizag will make all the arrangements to get you to Mumbai. We will take care of it sir. . .we are with you sir, in this hour of grief. . .Yes sir. . .I will see you at the airport.’ Nikhil hung up.
The next moment he pulled out his mobile and dialled a number.
‘Arre Venkat, what’s up?’
‘Nothing, you tell me. Hope all is well? After you logged off, Vikram called off the call. He said we’ll do it later.’
‘Oh okay. . .listen buddy, Pranesh’s parents are in Vizag. I have already told his father that you, the branch manager of Vizag, are on your way to see him. Can you go now? It’s important, my friend. I feel sad for his parents, they are quite old. And in this age to be put through all this. . .’
‘Oh ho! I am in Tirupati now, Nikhil. I would surely have gone had I not come here for a branch review.’
‘Oh, shit. . . What do we do now?’ There was a pause on the line. ‘Okay, let’s do this,’ Nikhil suggested. ‘You ask someone from your branch in Vizag to go and meet his parents. Let him say that he is the manager-in-charge, else I will look like an idiot. Ask him to put them on a flight to Mumbai today.’
‘That’s definitely possible.’
‘Okay, thanks. And let me know which flight they are coming by and I will arrange for their pick-up and stay.’
‘Will do.’
That night Nikhil, accompanied by Anand, went to the airport to receive Pranesh’s parents. Both of them waited in the car in the parking lot, while the driver went to the arrival area to keep a watch on flight arrivals. There was an uneasy calm in the car. For long, no one spoke. Nikhil was wondering what and how to speak to Pranesh’s parents. He had limited experience in offering condolences to anyone. Vikram had told him that he would come to the airport with him but, as usual, had ditched at the last moment.
Nikhil’s phone rang. It was the driver. He held the instrument close to his ear and, without saying a word, disconnected.
‘This air traffic congestion at the Mumbai airport is the worst. The flight’s been delayed by another thirty minutes. Now I’ll have to spend another half an hour staring at your dirty face.’
‘Why boss? Would it have been better if that other babe were here?’
‘Which one?’
‘Zinaida! That girl who went all out to impress you yesterday. And from what I could make out, it worked.’ Nikhil went red with embarrassment. ‘Haha, very funny.’
Anand smiled. The silence returned. Nikhil fiddled with his BlackBerry for some time, and sent out a few messages, none of which were important. Then he returned to the unfinished conversation with Anand.
‘Tell me Anand, why can’t we get her as a relationship manager in our branch?’
‘In the Bandra branch?’
‘Right.’
‘How boss? One thing is for sure. If she comes to the Bandra branch, branch mein raunak aa jaayegi.’
‘Week after next, they will be allocated to various departments for their final postings. I know for sure she wanted to be in Retail Banking.’
‘How do you know, sir?’ Anand had a mischievous smile on his face.
Nikhil chose to ignore the taunt. ‘She’s fabulous looking. If we put her on the front line, no customer will be able to resist her charms. We will rock, month after month. If only we had more RMs as pretty as her.’
‘Sir, unfortunately I don’t have a single hot-looking RM in my branch.’
‘You have to change your hiring policy, my friend. Hire smart, young women—even if they are thick-headed. You w
ill do well in your life as a Branch Manager.’
‘But sir, how will we get work done? Won’t customers lose faith in us?’
‘As if customers believe you today. Customers make their own decisions my friend. We bankers only execute those decisions. And if they get a sexy chick to meet them and help them complete their banking transactions, they will never move away from you. A Reliance mutual fund will give the same return if the customer invests through you or through HDFC bank or through ICICI Bank. However, a Zinaida meeting the customer once in three days will make it sweeter and more enjoyable for him as compared to any other bank. Spending twenty minutes with her every week is the next best thing to having sex with her, don’t you agree?’ Anand just nodded at this candid conversation. Though he remembered the conversation the day the MT’s had landed, when Nikhil had said just the reverse—that customers will buy whatever one wants them to buy. After all, Nikhil was the boss and he had the right to contradict himself.
The conversation was cut short by another call from Nikhil’s driver. ‘The plane has landed, let’s go,’ said Nikhil, opening the door of the car. ‘Painful work begins,’ he said, as they walked towards the arrival area.
They drove Pranesh’s parents to his Thane residence in Nikhil’s car. It was an extremely traumatic experience for both of them. Pranesh’s mom broke down on seeing Pranesh’s body, and wept the whole night. He was their only son.
Sub-Inspector More landed up early next morning to meet Pranesh’s parents. He brought with him a copy of the post-mortem report. It was unambiguous. Pranesh had died of injuries caused by the impact and because of uncontrolled internal bleeding. There was no trace of alcohol in his blood, so drunken driving was ruled out. He hinted to Nikhil and to Pranesh’s parents that the police were likely to close the case, as they had no clue or witness who could lead them to the culprit. The only question SI More wanted to ask his parents was whether they suspected anyone and whether Pranesh had any enemies at work or outside. When they replied in the negative, More left. Anand, who was standing next to More when he was talking to Pranesh’s parents, had a weird feeling Nikhil was trying to say something. Nikhil walked up to them a few times and then went back to talk to his team members, who had assembled there. This happened a couple of times, but Anand ignored it. He thought he was just imagining things.
Nikhil and Anand returned to their jobs the next day and took turns to meet the parents. A week later, Pranesh’s parents left for Vizag, vowing never to return to the city which had snatched their son away from them. In a month, Pranesh was forgotten and it was business as usual for the Bandra branch. Vikram, who liked to project himself as a messiah, a true leader of people, didn’t bother to meet Pranesh’s parents even once.
7
Devikulam
June 2011
When Krishna Menon walked onto the makeshift wooden dais, in front of him were six thousand people. People from all walks of life had braved the pouring rain to participate in the agitation. There were even a few people from Singur, in West Bengal— people who had successfully taken part in the battle against the acquisition of their land by the state government of Bengal— who had also come to participate in this protest against what they called a unilateral decision by the government. It had taken Menon a lot of courage to organize such a large protest, albeit with the support of three large non government organizations (NGOs).
Krishna had been working for years to mobilize public support against the project. But for a long time, nothing moved. Despite being the face of the protest, he had struggled to achieve anything of significance. And this had a lot to do with his lack of political acumen. Despite having the desire, not having the requisite financial muscle had been a big deterrent in his ability to take his protest to the next level. Whatever he did with his limited resources had not been successful thus far.
All that changed the day he met Jayakumar at a congregation of Rotarians. That day, Krishna was standing in a group of five people enjoying his single malt when Jaya walked in. Diminutive and of frail build, clad in a kurta-pyjama, he wandered straight to the other end of the hall and mingled with a few locals. Krishna’s gaze followed him as Jaya went from one person to the other, laughing and joking, at times holding serious conversations. There was something different about him. Something intriguing. His face conveyed an intensity Krishna had never seen before.
For over ten minutes Krishna tailed this intriguing gentleman, wondering who he was, and that was when he saw Ramadurai, the local political satrap walking towards him. Ramadurai’s right hand was on Jaya’s shoulder and he was dragging him towards Krishna.
‘Meet Jayakumar,’ said Ramadurai, as he came within a few feet of Krishna, ‘A person of impeccable values and great commitment to the society at large.’ Krishna smiled out of courtesy. A politician talking of impeccable values was a bit odd. Ignorant of Krishna’s thoughts, Ramadurai continued, ‘Jaya is the founder of CNRI.’ Seeing the blank look on Krishna’s face he turned to his right, looked at Jaya and asked, ‘What’s the full form?’
‘Conservation of Natural Resources through Innovative use of Technology. We are an NGO based in Satara. It’s about hundred kilometres from Pune.’ He extended his right hand towards Krishna. His handshake was firm; to Krishna it communicated firmness in purpose.
‘Oh, welcome to Devikulam.’ Anyone with a little bit of knowledge of geography would know Satara was a semi-rural place in south-west Maharashtra and to Krishna, Jayakumar hardly looked like someone from that background.
‘Jaya, this is Krishna Menon, one of the oldest members of the Devikulam Rotary club. He has a plantation on the outskirts and runs a very popular resort. Lots of foreigners come there. He is a very popular man.’ And he looked at Jaya and added, ‘Not just popular, he is also a very good human being.’
Krishna was embarrassed. He patted Ramadurai on his back and just smiled.
Jaya was very well-travelled and quite a voracious reader too. He could talk knowledgeably on any topic from the tsunami in Japan to Vladimir Putin’s affair with a Russian gymnast half his age; from corruption in African cricket to the railway budget, Jaya was an expert on almost everything. Krishna immediately connected with him. His intellectual compatibility was quite stimulating.
Eventually that night, almost as if it was pre-planned, the two of them got down to discussing the nuclear Non Proliferation Treaty, the threat of the Pakistan’s nuclear programme going rogue, the unabashed aggression shown by the Iranian president in defying the world with his own nuclear plans. It was not long before they meandered towards their own neighbourhood, the Trikakulam nuclear plant. Jaya was very worried, like Krishna, about the aftereffects of any natural calamity on the safety of the people in the vicinity.
‘God forbid if any calamity hits this plant, it will render not only this neighbourhood, but entire town of Devikulam uninhabitable for hundreds of years, not to mention the loss of flora and fauna. It will spell a disaster of magnanimous proportions,’ Jaya said.
‘Yes, but what can we do? No one seems to be interested. I have been fighting a lone cause for years now. The plant is not too far away from being commissioned. There’s little we can do at this stage, don’t you think?’
‘You can’t give up, Mr Menon. If you have been fighting for so long, now is the time for your struggle to bear results.’
‘Yes but I am beginning to think it’s a lost cause. And more so, I don’t even have the resources to battle the strong reserves of the politicians.’
‘What is it that you need? I can help you with that. People who work with CNRI will be interested in working with you on protecting the natural resources of your region—the same natural resources which will be rendered useless if what happened in Japan were to happen in Devikulam.’
Krishna’s eyes lit up. Was that possible? Would someone help him with the required means, enable him to keep the battle going? He desperately wanted to stall the nuclear plant from going live. The research behind the cho
ice of the plant’s location was shrouded in secrecy. The government had not made it public. The relocation plans for people in the catchment were still to be announced. Krishna was not against it, but he wanted the government to come clean on the project and convince the people that everything had been thought through and taken care of.
‘Is there a place where we can sit and talk in peace? This party is getting a bit too crowded.’ When Jaya said this, Krishna led him out of the hall and drove him straight to his resort. Their discussion went into the wee hours of the morning. After all the frustrations and disappointments over his crusade, for Krishna this visitor seemed to have arrived from heaven.
By the time Jaya left, promising to contact him in the next few days, Krishna was fully rejuvenated. He was charged up and ready to kick-start and add fire to his protests against the nearly complete Trikakulam Nuclear Power Plant.
And today, when he stood on the dais, he reminisced over the past few months. The chance meeting with Jaya, the late night discussion at the resort, the promise of Jaya to help him raise funds, the quick-fire way in which Jaya had fulfilled those promises, the discussions with other like-minded NGOs that Jaya had prompted to help him mobilise people and garner support in his battle against the commissioning of the nuclear plant.
He quietly walked up and took a vacant chair at the centre of the dais. Before sitting down, he looked at the person sitting on the right, folded his hands and paid his respects. Jaya looked at him, smiled and reciprocated his gesture. The friendship was sealed. In fact, the friendship had been sealed the day Jaya’s emissary delivered thirty-two lakh rupees to Krishna Menon’s resort. This was the first of many such instalments, meant to take care of the expenses incurred in educating villagers on the impact of the nuclear plant, mobilizing their support, transporting them to the protest rallies and managing politicians. Krishna’s hands were massively strengthened by the contribution from Jaya’s NGO.
By the time the rally ended, amidst a mammoth gathering of the people of Devikulam, a protest for a clean life was re-ignited—the war against the nuclear plant intensified.
The Bankster (Ravi Subramanian) Page 6
