Revolution 2020: Love Corruption Ambition Read online

  I shook my head.

  ‘How is the car?’ he said.

  ‘Great,’ I said.

  ‘College?’ he said.

  ‘Going okay. We have slowed down a bit. We don’t have the capital,’ I said.

  ‘I will arrange the money,’ Shukla-ji promised.

  ‘Take it easy, Shukla-ji. Keep a low profile. Things can wait,’ I said.

  He switched off the TV. ‘Your friend fucked us, eh?’ Shukla-ji said.

  ‘He’s not my friend. And he is finished now. And you will be back,’ I said.

  ‘They won’t give me a ticket next time,’ he said pensively.

  ‘I heard,’ I said.

  ‘From who?’ Shukla-ji looked surprised.

  I told him about my friendship with Aarti, the DM’s daughter, and what she had told me. I didn’t tell him about her relationship with Raghav, nor did I give details about her and me.

  ‘Oh yes, you have known her for long, right?’ he said.

  ‘School friend,’ I said.

  ‘So her father won’t contest?’ Shukla-ji said.

  I shook my head. ‘Neither will the daughter. She hates politics. So maybe you still have a chance,’ I said.

  ‘Not this time,’ Shukla-ji dismissed. ‘I have to wait. Not right after jail.’

  ‘They’ll find someone else then?’

  ‘The DM’s family will definitely win,’ he said. ‘People love them.’

  ‘They aren’t interested,’ I said.

  ‘How close are you to her?’ His sharp question had me in a dither.

  I never lie to Shukla-ji. However, I didn’t want to give him specifics about Aarti and me either.

  I kept quiet.

  ‘You like her?’ he said.

  ‘Leave it, Shukla-ji. You know I am immersed in my work,’ I said, evading the topic.

  ‘I am talking about work only, you silly boy,’ Shukla-ji said.

  ‘What?’ I said, amazed by how the MLA sustained his zest for politics even in jail.

  ‘You marry her. If that broken-legged DM can’t contest and the daughter won’t, the son-in-law will.’

  ‘What? What makes you say that?’

  ‘I have spent twenty-five years in Indian politics. It is obvious that is what they will do. Wait and watch, they will marry her off soon.’

  ‘Her parents are pestering her for marriage.’

  ‘Marry her. Contest the election and win it.’

  I kept quiet.

  ‘Do you realise where your GangaTech will be if you become an MLA? I will be back one day, anyway, maybe from another constituency. And if both of us are in power, we will rule this city, maybe the state. Her grandfather even served as CM for a while!’

  ‘I haven’t thought about marriage yet,’ I lied.

  ‘Don’t think. Do it. You think she will marry you?’ he asked.

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  ‘Show her mother your car and money. Don’t take dowry. Even if the daughter doesn’t agree, the mother will.’

  ‘Shukla-ji? Me, a politician?’

  ‘Yes. Politician, businessman and educationist – power, money and respect – perfect combination. You are destined for big things. I knew it the day you entered my office,’ he said.

  Shukla-ji poured some Black Label whisky into two glasses. He asked the guard to get ice. I kept quiet and sat thoughtfully while he prepared the drinks. Sure, power is never a bad thing in India. To get anything done, you need power. Power meant people would pay me money, rather than me paying money to get things done. GangaTech could become ten times its size. Plus, I loved Aarti anyway. I would marry her eventually, so why not now? Besides, she had somewhat hinted at it. I let out a sigh.

  I fought my low self-esteem. It’s okay, Gopal, I told myself. You are meant for bigger things. Just because you didn’t get an AIEEE rank, just because you didn’t remember the molecular formula, doesn’t mean you can’t do great things in life. After all, I had opened a college, lived in a big house and had an expensive car.

  Shukla-ji handed me the drink.

  ‘I can get the girl,’ I said.

  ‘Cheers to that, Mr Son-in-law!’ Shukla-ji raised his glass.

  36

  ‘Busy?’ I said.

  I had called Aarti at work. A tourist was screaming at her because the water in his room was not hot enough. Aarti kept me on hold while the guest cursed in French.

  ‘I can call later,’ I said.

  ‘It’s fine. Housekeeping will take care of it. My ears are hurting!’ Aarti said, rattled by all the screaming.

  ‘You will own a college one day. You won’t have to do this anymore.’

  ‘It’s okay, Gopal. I really like my job. Sometimes we have weirdos. Anyway, what’s up?’

  ‘How did the dinner go?’

  ‘Boring. I dozed off on the table when the fifth guy wanted to inform me of the Pradhan family’s duty towards the party.’

  ‘Any conclusion on the ticket?’

  ‘It’s politics, Director sir, things aren’t decided so fast. Anyway, election is next year.’

  ‘You said something when you were saying bye,’ I said.

  I could almost see her smile. ‘Did I?’ she said.

  ‘Something about your husband becoming the MLA?’

  ‘Could be, why?’ she said, her voice child-like.

  ‘I wonder if I could apply?’ I said.

  ‘For the husband or MLA?’ she said.

  ‘I don’t know. Whichever has a shorter waitlist,’ I said.

  Aarti laughed.

  ‘For husband the queue is rather long,’ she said.

  ‘I am a bit of a queue jumper,’ I said.

  ‘That you are,’ she said. ‘Okay, another guest coming. Speak later?’

  ‘I’m going to visit Raghav soon.’

  ‘I have stopped talking to him,’ she said. She didn’t protest against my proposed meeting with him. I took it as her consent.

  ‘Intentionally?’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, we had a bit of a tiff. I normally fix things up, I didn’t bother this time.’

  ‘Good,’ I said. ‘So what’s the tourist saying?’

  ‘She’s Japanese. They are polite. She will wait until I finish my call.’

  ‘Tell her you are on the phone with your husband.’

  ‘Shut up. Bye.’

  ‘Bye,’ I said and kissed the phone. I opened the calendar on my desk and marked the coming Friday as the day for my meeting with Raghav.

  I pressed the nozzle of a Gucci perfume five times to spray my neck, armpits and both wrists. I wore a new black shirt and a custom-made suit for the occasion. I put on my Ray-Ban glasses and looked at myself in the mirror. The sunglasses seemed a bit too much, so I hung them from my shirt pocket.

  I had taken the day off on Friday. Dean sir wanted to bore me with a report of the academic performance of the students in the first term. I needed an excuse to get out anyway.

  All the best. Avoid hurt as much as possible, Aarti had messaged me.

  I assured her that I would handle the situation well. From her side, she had messaged him a ‘we need to talk’ equivalent and he had responded with a ‘not the best time’ message – exactly the kind of stuff that irked her about him in the first place.

  I told my driver to go to Nadeshar Road, where Raghav’s place of work was.

  One could easily miss the Revolution 2020 office in the midst of so many auto-repair shops. Raghav had rented out a garage. The office had three areas – a printing space inside, his own cubicle in the middle and a common area for staff and visitors at the entrance.

  ‘May I help you?’ a teenager asked me.

  ‘I am here to meet Raghav,’ I said.

  ‘He’s with people,’ the boy said. ‘What is this about?’

  I looked inside the garage. Raghav’s office had a partial glass partition. He sat on his desk. A farmer with a soiled turban and a frail little boy sat opposite Raghav. The father-son duo looked poor an