Revolution Twenty20 Read online

  ‘It is the editorial. They are stupid, impractical people,’ Sailesh said.

  I banged my fist on the table.

  ‘I want to meet your editor-in-chief. If you want me to book any ads after this,’ I said.

  Sailesh glanced at my chequebook. He stood up.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said. I followed him to the editorial floor.

  In his glass cabin, Ashok Kumar, the editor-in-chief, was in a meeting with some sub-editors. Sailesh went in, the sub-editors came out. Sailesh signalled for me to enter.

  Ashok scanned me from tip to toe. ‘You are from MLA Shukla’s office?’ he said.

  ‘I am the director of GangaTech College,’ I said and offered my hand. He shook it in a cursory manner and asked me to sit down.

  ‘I saw the full-page ads,’ Ashok began, looking a bit puzzled about my presence in his cabin.

  ‘Did you see the article you did on us?’ I said.

  ‘I am sure I must have. Who did it?’ Ashok said. He put on his spectacles and turned to his computer to search.

  ‘Sir may not remember the reporter,’ Sailesh told me. ‘Should we search by date?’

  ‘Raghav Kashyap wrote it,’ I said.

  ‘The new hire?’ Ashok said, upbeat for the first time. He quickly located the article on his computer. He turned the monitor towards us. ‘This one?’

  I nodded.

  ‘I must congratulate the reporter. He’s new, yet his stories are getting noticed.’

  ‘If you write nonsense you will get noticed,’ I said.

  ‘What happened Sailesh-ji. Why is your client so upset? We have done a half-page profile on their college,’ Ashok said.

  ‘Why the last two paras? And the headline?’ I butted in.

  ‘What?’ Ashok said and skimmed the article again. ‘Oh, the corruption stuff. What is the big deal in that?’

  ‘It affects our image,’ I said, bringing down both my palms forcefully on the table.

  Ashok didn’t appreciate my display of emotion. He stared at me. I removed my hands from the table.

  ‘If you are so concerned about image, why did you open a college with MLA Shukla?’ Ashok said.

  Sailesh realised this wasn’t going well.

  ‘Sir, GangaTech is expected to be our biggest account,’ Sailesh said.

  ‘So, we should stop reporting news in a fair manner?’ Ashok said.

  ‘The allegations have not been proved,’ I said. ‘A three-year-old dead issue is brought out on the day of the opening. Is that fair?’

  ‘Ashok sir, let’s talk in private for two minutes,’ Sailesh said.

  I stood outside the office as they spoke. I looked around. I asked a peon where Raghav Kashyap sat. I saw his tiny cubicle. It occupied less space than the sofa in my office. I saw Raghav. He was typing furiously on his computer, unaware of the world around him.

  Sailesh called me back in. ‘Don’t worry, it is all settled. Ashok sir will speak to the MLA directly. We will sort it out. Please, let’s continue our association,’ Sailesh said.

  ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘What about the reporter?’

  ‘What about him?’ Sailesh said. ‘He is a trainee.’

  ‘I want him to apologise to me,’ I said.

  Sailesh looked at Ashok.

  ‘That’s up to him,’ Ashok said. He picked up the phone and asked his secretary to send Raghav in.

  Five minutes later, Raghav knocked on the door.

  ‘Sir, you called me?’ Raghav said, then saw me. ‘Hey, Gopal. You here?’

  ‘You guys know each other?’ Ashok said, one eyebrow raised.

  ‘He interviewed me,’ I said.

  Raghav seemed surprised by my terse statement. He realised I didn’t want to establish any prior connection.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Raghav said, as he noticed the serious mood in the room.

  Sailesh recounted our earlier discussion.

  ‘Apologise?’ Raghav said. ‘Gopal, you want me to apologise to you?’

  ‘Do you guys know each other from before?’ Ashok said, catching on to the undercurrents.

  ‘We went to the same school,’ I said.

  ‘And sat at the same desk. Close friends,’ Raghav said. ‘Why don’t you tell them that?’

  Why don’t I tell them you took my girl, you asshole, I wanted to say. Or that you are so jealous of my success that you planted a stinker article?

  ‘These corruption allegations are unfounded. And there is no need to mention them in a college profile,’ I said.

  ‘I had to be balanced,’ Raghav said. ‘Shukla is a known crook.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ I said, my voice loud.

  ‘Mr Gopal, let’s not raise our voice. Raghav, you don’t have to be an activist in every story,’ Ashok said.

  ‘Sir, I hardly wrote anything. I didn’t probe the building violations in the college.’

  ‘There are no violations. All our plans are approved,’ I said.

  ‘And how did Shukla get these approvals? Anyway, I didn’t mention any of that.’

  ‘Even the Ganga Action Plan is old news, Raghav,’ Ashok said. ‘Unless you have new, solid evidence, no point repeating it. We can’t keep spoiling someone’s name.’

  Raghav ran his fingers through his hair distractedly. ‘Fine, I won’t do it until I find something solid. May I leave now?’

  ‘You haven’t apologised to Gopal sir,’ Sailesh said. ‘GangaTech’s our client.’

  ‘Editorial only apologises for genuine errors,’ Raghav said.

  ‘Or if your chief editor tells you to,’ Sailesh said, his voice firm.

  Raghav looked at Ashok. Ashok kept quiet.

  ‘Sir, how can you …’ Raghav began.

  ‘Raghav, let’s get it over with. I have to sign off the next edition in one hour,’ Ashok said, turning back to his computer screen.

  Silence for ten seconds or so.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Raghav said on a sigh.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I said, but Raghav had already stomped out of the room.

  23

  ‘You and Raghav had an argument?’ Aarti said. She had called me late at night, her preferred time.

  ‘He told you?’ I said.

  ‘I suggested that the three of us meet up and he almost bit my head off,’ she said.

  ‘No way! I like your head,’ I said.

  ‘The hotel opens next week. I thought I would take permission and show you guys the place beforehand. It is so beautiful,’ she said.

  ‘You can show him separately,’ I said.

  ‘What happened?’ Aarti said. ‘You met him, right? Why doesn’t anybody tell me anything?’

  ‘It was work-related, don’t worry. All settled now.’

  ‘If you say so. Can you come around tomorrow?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Good night, Director saheb!’

  I waited for Aarti at the Ramada Hotel entrance. The security wouldn’t let me in. Aarti arrived and flashed her staff card and I followed her in. She wore a maroon Banarasi sari, her uniform. ‘Aarti Pratap Pradhan – Guest Relations Trainee,’ her badge said.

  ‘Wow, you look so different,’ I said.

  ‘Different? Formal? Is that all you say?’ she mocked.

  ‘No … You look great. But I didn’t expect to see you in a sari,’ I said.

  ‘Didn’t expect what? That your stupid classmate from school could get a real job?’ she wiggled her eyebrows, hands on hips.

  ‘Yeah. You are quite stupid,’ I pretended to agree, which made her punch my arm playfully.

  We entered the hotel lobby. Construction workers were using noisy polishing machines on the already shiny Italian marble. Smell of paint pervaded the air. She took me to a restaurant with plush velvet chairs.

  ‘This will be our bar – Toxic.’

  The hotel would ensure that even as people visited the city to wash their sins, they’d commit new ones. We walked around the hotel to see the rest of the facilities.

  ‘So,