Revolution 2020: Love Corruption Ambition Read online

  I couldn’t figure out why I’d started to hang out with her. I had become a buffer until her boyfriend got free from work. I guess I wanted a break from work too. And, of course, when it came to Aarti, my reasons went for a toss anyway.

  ‘So, Raghav has no idea we meet?’ I asked her one day.

  She shook her head, and wiped her coffee moustache.

  Raghav stayed out of my life after the inauguration day debacle. However, he couldn’t stay off his old tricks for long.

  ‘Varanasi Nagar Nigam eats, builder cheats’

  Raghav Kashyap, Staff Reporter

  I woke up to this headline a month after we opened. He often wrote about black-marketeer ration shop owners, LPG cylinders sold illegally, the RTO officer taking bribes and other routine Indian things nobody gives a fuck about. I would have ignored this article too, had he not mentioned GangaTech.

  I skimmed a few lines.

  The article said, ‘Surprisingly the inappropriate approvals and the resultant illegal construction are right there in front of our eyes. Unlike other corruption cases where the wrongdoing is hidden (like the Ganga Action Plan scam), here the proof is for all to see. Farms are turned into colleges, which then flout all norms to construct as much as possible. Colleges will soon have malls next-door. Politicians, meant to protect us and prevent all this, are often the culprits. This is not all, the city has new hotels, residential towers and office buildings where the VNN has taken its cut. We have proof to compare the vast difference between what is allowable and what VNN approved …’

  A box next to the article listed the controversial approvals.

  I read the list:

  The V-CON apartment building, a ten-storey tower on a low-flying zone.

  Hotel Vento, construction of which has taken over a neighbourhood park.

  GangaTech College – Farmland mysteriously approved. College buildings constructed beyond permissible floor-space index.

  I threw the newspaper away. I had improved my relations with Shukla-ji with great difficulty. I had told him that the reporter had apologised to me and that this would never happen again. I knew Raghav was taking revenge for the ‘sorry’ that day. He must have obtained GangaTech’s building plan from his shady sources in VNN.

  I took out my phone. Before I could call him, however, Shukla-ji called me.

  ‘I don’t know how this happened,’ I said.

  ‘Behenchods these Dainik people are,’ Shukla-ji said.

  ‘This reporter has to stop …’ I said.

  ‘It’s not the reporter. The opposition must be doing this.’

  ‘I don’t know, sir.’

  ‘Or maybe someone in my own party? Jealous bastards wanting to spoil my name.’

  ‘I don’t think so, sir.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It is the reporter. I know him from before. He’s the crusader-activist types. Plus, he had to apologise to me. He is taking revenge.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Raghav Kashyap, the name is there in the article.’

  ‘I’ll fuck his happiness,’ Shukla-ji said.

  ‘Should I call him?’ I said.

  ‘Don’t. I’ll speak to his seniors.’

  I said, ‘What about the article. Does it affect us?’

  ‘If VNN calls, direct them to me,’ Shukla-ji said.

  No VNN officials called. Instead, they came straight to my college. The officials didn’t come alone, they came with two bulldozers.

  Students peeped from classroom windows as the sounds of the earthmover disrupted classes. I came running to the gate.

  ‘Open the gates, we have come for demolition,’ said a man wearing cheap sunglasses and a yellow plastic helmet.

  ‘What?’ I said.

  ‘We have orders,’ said the VNN official. He took out a folded piece of paper from his pocket.

  My heart beat fast. ‘What will you demolish?’

  ‘The main building. There’s illegal construction here,’ he said, his tone defiant.

  The harsh morning sun hit our faces. ‘Can we talk?’ I said.

  He shook his head.

  I took out my phone. I called Shukla-ji. He didn’t answer.

  ‘This is MLA Shukla’s college. What is your name, sir?’ I said.

  ‘Rao. I am Amrit Rao. I don’t care whether you say MLA or PM.’

  I coaxed him to be patient for ten minutes. He turned the ignition off on the bulldozers. I asked the peon to get soft drinks with ice for everyone. I continued to try Shukla-ji’s number. He answered at the eighth attempt.

  ‘What is it, Gopal? I had to call the CM. These stupid articles are the biggest headaches.’

  ‘Sir, we have bulldozers here.’

  ‘What?’ Shukla-ji said.

  I handed the phone to Rao, who repeated his mission to the MLA. However, he became silent as the MLA spoke at the other end. Rao stepped aside to have a lengthy animated conversation with Shukla-ji for ten minutes.

  Rao returned my phone. ‘Here, Shukla-ji wants to speak to you.’

  ‘Sir?’ I said, still dazed.

  ‘How much cash do you have in the office?’ Shukla-ji wanted to know.

  ‘Not sure, sir. Around two lakhs in the safe.’

  ‘Give it to him. Put the notes in an empty cement bag, topped up with sand.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ I said.

  ‘His colleagues should not see it. He has a solid reputation.’

  ‘Okay, sir.’

  ‘And he has to break something. He can’t go back without demolition pictures.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Is there anything partially constructed you don’t need immediately?’

  ‘Sir, the students are going to see the demolition,’ I said.

  ‘No choice. This reporter friend of yours has kicked us right in the …’

  ‘He’s no longer a friend, sir,’ I said.

  ‘He’s fucked. Anyway, tell me what can be broken easily and will cost the least to fix?’

  ‘The machining lab. We can put the machines somewhere else,’ I said.

  ‘Do that. Then draw a cross sign with chalk outside the lab. Let them do the rest. Don’t forget the cement bag.’ Shukla-ji hung up.

  I signalled the security guard to open the gates. Rao gave me an oily smile.

  25

  ‘I can’t do a movie today. I have to leave in ten minutes.’ Aarti frowned as she stepped into my Innova.

  I had come to pick her up at the hotel with tickets for the 7.30 p.m. show of Rock On.

  ‘Can you get a refund?’

  I tore up the tickets.

  ‘Gopal!’ she said. ‘What are you doing? You shouldn’t have bought tickets without asking me.’

  ‘Why are you distraught?’

  ‘It’s about Raghav. I have to be with him.’

  ‘What?’ I said.

  ‘Don’t talk about Raghav. Whose rule is that, Mr Mishra?’

  ‘Mine. But I want to know why you are cancelling the plan.’

  ‘I’ll tell you. Can you drop me home?’

  ‘DM’s bungalow,’ I told the driver.

  ‘Keep it to yourself, okay?’ Aarti said. ‘He told me not to tell anyone. I can trust you, right?’

  ‘Do I have to answer that?’ I said.

  ‘Fine. Raghav lost his job,’ she said.

  ‘What?’ I said. A surge of warm joy ran through me.

  ‘I’m shocked. Dainik considered him a star reporter,’ Aarti said.

  ‘Did they give a reason?’ I said. The reason was sitting next to her.

  ‘I don’t know. He didn’t say. He just said the management asked him to leave.’

  ‘Recession?’ I said in a mock-concerned voice. ‘They cut staff in tough times to save costs.’

  ‘How much can you save by firing a trainee reporter? And Dainik is doing well.’

  The car reached Aarti’s home.

  ‘Is he at your place?’ I said as she stepped out.

  She shook her head. ‘I�€