Chankya's Chant (31 page)

‘We’ve hit the mother lode,’ the reporter said excitedly.

‘Do tell,’ said Menon coolly.

‘When our prime minister was chief minister, a lady used to visit him. Often late at night.’

‘Big deal. If I laid end to end the women who screw around with businessmen or politicians, we’d circle the fucking globe.’

‘If you laid them end to end you’d be very tired,’ joked the reporter.

Menon ignored the joke. The reporter cleared his throat and continued. ‘Well, it seems that this lady— very pretty she was apparently—used to visit him, but one fine day she disappeared. Poof! Gone.’

‘So?’ ‘The same lady appeared at a Hindu shelter two months later, pregnant.’ ‘How do you know this?’

‘The orphanage accepted the pregnant lady on the formal recommendation of the chief minister—our present prime minister.’

‘And did this lady deliver?’

‘Sure. A little girl.’

‘Whatever happened to the mother and daughter?’ asked Menon, suddenly very interested.

‘The mother packed up and left. The daughter was brought up by the Hindu nunnery attached to the shelter.’

‘What’s to say that the girl’s got anything to do with the prime minister?’

‘In her hurry, the mother left behind a postcard. It was from the father enquiring about the mother and child. The purohit was happy to share it with me when I told him that I could arrange for his son’s admission to a medical college.’

Menon made a note. A favour promised was always to be honoured. ‘And?’

‘It was the prime minister. He’s the father.’

‘So the sadhvi is his illegitimate daughter?’ asked Gangasagar incredulously.

‘He was already married, with three kids in tow and a rosy political career ahead of him—he couldn’t accept her,’ replied Menon.

‘But where’s the proof?’ asked Gangasagar.

‘That weasel reporter has a postcard in which the prime minister writes to her asking after her and the child.’

‘But that’s hardly clinching evidence,’ said Gangasagar, then reflected before thoughtfully resuming. ‘It could be enough for a sensation though. And this child— she grew up to become a nun herself?’

‘Yes. Father and daughter never refer to one another

as being related. Apparently, she calls him
child
. A joke.’ ‘And what the fuck does he call her—
mother
?’ ‘Actually, yes.’

‘It’s time I met her,’ said Gangasagar as he put down his

newspaper.

‘What will you tell her?’ asked Menon.

‘I’ll tell her that if she wants Mother’s Rule in Delhi, she must make sure that there’s no damn President’s Rule in Uttar Pradesh.’

‘Your instructions have arrived, child,’ she said as she placed her hand on his head and began chanting some more prayers with her eyes closed. A minute later, she opened her eyes and directed, ‘Do not impose President’s Rule on Uttar Pradesh.’

‘But blessed mother—’ began the prime minister.

‘Sshh!’ she admonished him, placing her palm in front of her in a gesture for him to halt. ‘Have my divine messages ever gone wrong?’ she asked.

‘No,’ he acknowledged quietly.

‘Then do as I say!’ she instructed.

‘Fine. So you’ve managed to bring things to a halt and prevented President’s Rule. But now what?’ asked Agrawalji.

‘We tell the chief minister to step down and let Chandini take over,’ said Gangasagar.

‘But their party would want portfolios for supporting our chief minister in the same way that we demanded portfolios for supporting theirs. Why would their chief minister step down without a deal?’ asked Menon.

‘Changing the topic completely, Menon, weren’t you supposed to organise a sting for that press worm?’ asked Gangasagar.

Menon smiled. ‘You want the chief minister to take a walk, don’t you?’ he asked. ‘So that you don’t have to offer any Cabinet berths to him?’

‘I like long walks—especially when they’re taken by people who annoy me,’ said Gangasagar.

The gentleman from Mumbai was well-dressed, immaculate, suave and soft-spoken. He arrived in a black Mercedes-Benz at the residence of the chief engineer of the PWD—the Public Works Department. In one hand he carried a bunch of lilies for the chief engineer’s wife, and in the other he held a box of Swiss chocolates for his kids and an expensive Mont Blanc pen for the man himself. The appointment had been fixed a week earlier at the behest of the chief engineer’s nephew.

Preliminary introductions over, the man from Mumbai said, ‘This is a massive project—upgrading and widening priority state highways, constructing four new bypasses, and three major bridges. Who’s picking up the tab?’

The chief engineer answered. ‘Civil work, supervision, project management support, consulting contracts, land acquisition and cash compensation shall be funded entirely by the government of Uttar Pradesh, while other costs of resettlement and rehabilitation will be eligible for World Bank financing.’

‘So the entire cost is borne either by the state government or the World Bank, right?’

‘That is correct.’ replied the chief engineer.

‘We have carried out our own internal budgeting and believe that the actual cost should be around one point five billion,’ said the man from Mumbai.

‘Ah!’

‘But we could inflate or deflate it, as required,’ added the Mumbai man smoothly, ‘that’s why I’m here. We want to be sure that our bids are submitted in the manner that you want.’

‘You’ll have to meet the principal secretary for that,’ said the chief engineer.

‘When can we arrange a meeting?’ asked the man from Mumbai, smiling.

The well-dressed, immaculate, suave and soft-spoken man from Mumbai arrived in his black Mercedes-Benz at the Nirman Bhawan office of the principal secretary in Lucknow. In one hand he carried a bunch of tulips for the principal secretary, and in the other he held a plain vanilla Mont Blanc pen for the executive assistant to the principal secretary. The appointment had been fixed two days earlier at the behest of the chief engineer.

‘As you know, the tender process can be handled in three ways—percentage rate, item rate or lump sum. Under the first method, we would do the costing and you would bid by quoting a percentage above or below our estimates. In the second alternative, we would give you a schedule of quantities and you would quote individually on each item. Under the third mechanism, you would quote a lump sum for the entire project based upon our specifications,’ explained the principal secretary.

‘How can you swing it so that we get it?’ asked the Mumbai man.

‘Do you have subsidiaries and affiliate companies?’ asked the principal secretary.

The man nodded. ‘Lots.’

‘Then we’ll do it this way. The prequalification bids will ask for your background, technical expertise, and track record. Make sure that all your subsidiaries and associates bid individually.’

‘How will that help?’

‘We will find qualitative reasons to eliminate other bidders at this stage. But it would look very strange if only one party were left uneliminated. That’s why we need you to have at least five to six prequalification bids.’

‘So we’ll be the only bidders by the time it gets down to commercial bids?’

‘Yes.’

‘And how much will this cost us?’

‘You’ll have to meet the chief minister for that,’ said the principal secretary.

‘When can we arrange a meeting?’ smiled the man from Mumbai.