by Sudarsan S
“I am sorry, sir. I will not probe your ignorance on this matter any further”. The reporter look down at his paper again. “There are rumours that with the impending retirement of the current head of Food and Drug Regulatory Authority, you are likely to appoint one of your former class-mates as his successor. Can you throw some light in this regard?”
Pyare Mohan’s heart sank. This was supposed to be under wraps. This was not the time to think which lamb had bleated. It was a leading question. Answering ’Yes’ would instigate allegations of nepotism, answering ’No’ would mean not being able to follow through on his word. He heard the PM clear his throat. The PM wanted to take the question. The genial smile was back on his face. Close at hand, a mobile beeped loudly. It was Pyare Mohan’s. Beyond the smile, Pyare Mohan could see the glowering look on the Prime Minister’s face – the same he used to have when ring tones and messages used to interrupt cabinet meetings. Double embarrassment, thought Pyare Mohan as he stepped into the shadows.
“Let me answer the question not on behalf of the Minister of Health, but on behalf of my cabinet. Our poll promise included action against nepotism and we will stand by it”.
In the shadows, Pyare Mohan’s face fell. Elsewhere, another’s heart sank while his wife’s rejoiced.
“However”, continued the PM, “I would not rule out the possibility of friends and relatives of ministers taking positions of power, if merit were to be the sole criterion and their relationship to the minister is only incidental. Until then, rumours will remain rumours”.
Ah, a lifeline, thought Pyare Mohan. There was still hope for Yadav’s appointment. That can happen only after I win back the PM’s favour, Pyare Mohan was still in his thoughts.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if there are no further non-political questions for our Health Minister, we will meet again some point later.”
The press-meet was over as abruptly as it began. The media persons continued to squeal for sound bytes, but the duo was quickly ushered out of the hall into the ante-room.
“I will see you in a minute, Pyare,” the Prime Minister said gruffly and headed to the wash-room.
The PM was perceptibly unhappy with the turn of events commencing from the non-answer to the H1N2 question. Or, he could have been peeved by the message on the private cell. Everyone who had this number would have known his whereabouts and would have known not to disturb.
Pyare Mohan picked up his cellphone with annoyance. It was a message from Dr. Yadav. It said, “It is HIM. BTW, H1N2 is bird flu”. He couldn’t have picked up the phone and answered the query. It was not too late for the other.
“It is HIM”. Unmistakably, Yadav couldn’t have referred to anyone other than his bete noire, the truant boy. Yadav had probably seen through the surgical mask of the reporter. He couldn’t have gone too far.
“Get me the reporter who asked those questions,” Pyare Mohan murmured to his aide.
“Sir, I had anticipated this and our man had him waylaid at the exit. The old man himself is a genuine reporter. Apparently, he was plied with drink to ask those questions and he knows nothing about the identity of the boy who gave him the questions. All he says is that more liquor was waiting for him later”.
“Have him followed and report back to me, though I think it is unlikely that the boy will meet him again. And...”, Pyare espied the PM returning, “Go away now”.
“Sir, I owe you an explanation. I didn’t want to talk about bird flu because I didn’t want to raise panic levels.” Pyare thought offence was the best form of defence.
“Who asked you about bird flu?”
“The gentleman who asked me about H1N2”.
“Oh, you knew the answer to that, did you? Good. What is the deal about the head for FADRA, Pyare Mohan? Who is this cousin of yours?”
“No, sir. I had in mind one of my classmates who continues to teach at our medical institution-college. I have absolutely no idea how anyone got wind of it. It is even likely that the reporter was fishing without a bait. In any case, I will put forth the appropriate candidate list through the PMO’s office for an unbiased decision”.
“That is all well. Please tell me, what is a cellphone doing in a meeting like this?”
CHAPTER 26: Belling a cat
“Please tell me, what is a cellphone doing in a meeting like this, Ram?”
“I am sorry, sir. I thought the cellphone ban applied only to classroom sessions. Besides, this piece is too bulky for me to keep in my pockets while sitting”, Ramanujam smiled mischievously. And, he was right about the museum-piece of a cellphone in front of him.
Dr. Yadav smiled back. “I know you are smart and you have outwitted great brains, but do give me some credit”. Dr. Yadav moved quickly, swiped the cellphone on the table in front of Ramanujam and switched it off.
“Now that we have the recording device out of the way, we can have a talk. By the way, a piece of advice. The next time you want to attempt something like this, do not make it so conspicuous by placing it on the table in front of you. Now, you really must have had some cheek to taunt the minister in his lair.”
“I am sorry, sir. I don’t know what you are talking about, I merely came to..”.
“Don’t slight my intelligence, Ram. I know it was you who planted the questions in the Health Minister’s press-conference and the minister knows it too. I saw your signature all over the questions, where you sought to expose the minister’s ignorance”.
“Sir, I am not sure why you believe that I had a part to play in the Cabinet Minister’s press-meet ...”
“Stop this acting. If you are not here to taunt me about last week’s press-conference, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“Sir, my personal work is over and I seek to return to my studies.”
“Is that all?”
“Mmm, yes. And, just a few queries about the SARS vaccine that I had written to you about.”
“What queries do you have, exactly?” Dr. Yadav asked cautiously looking directly into his student’s eyes.
Ramanujam shifted in his seat nervously. “Sir, as I had mentioned, initial look at the composition does not suggest any efficacy of the drug to resist the SARS strain. I am not convinced that the composition was not significantly different from ...”
The professor interrupted. “If, as you say, it doesn’t meet your expectations, learned man, what are you trying to prove?”
“Sir, the expectations are not mine. The question is whether the drug is able to stand up to its own claim. I am just trying to understand why it was certified fit for use despite its lack of fitness”.
“Is that a question, Ram?”
“Yes, it is, sir”.
“And, why am I being asked the question?” Dr. Yadav eagerly awaited the answer. He wanted to check whether the student knew about his hand in it or was merely fishing.
Ramanujam pulled out a few sheets of paper from his pocket, unfolded them and pushed them towards the professor. The collection was a copy of the documents sent to the institution by FADRA, topped by Dr. Yadav’s letter of approval with his sign and the institution’s seal.
“This, sir, is why I am asking you”.
The professor turned himself face away from Ramanujam as if to let the light from the window fall on the sheaf of papers he held in his hands. Ramanujam thought that the professor winced.
Pyare Mohan had been right. This pest should have been squashed early. He not only almost ruined any chances of becoming FADRA chief, but also is posing a challenge to his reputation. The framed ’Oath of Hippocrates’ reminded him of Pyare Mohan again. It was time to call him and let him do his job.
“So, what do you want from me, Ram?”
“The truth, sir.”
“The truth? That is all?”
“Depends on what the truth is, sir”.
“The truth, as you feared, is that I signed the document despite my knowledge of the drug’s inefficacy. I was convinced of its lack of any adverse effects. I
had some personal reasons to approve. It was good for me that the SARS virus went its way out of the door before we could use the drug”.
“Good for the people”.
“And good for the people, as well. Is that all you wanted to know?”, Dr. Yadav asked cheerfully.
“Yes, I need something more, something you can’t refuse”.
“Unfortunately, my young friend, I have run out of time. Could we possibly discuss this some time later?”
“Yes, sir. Same time tomorrow if it is not inconvenient?” The professor nodded in agreement and slid the mobile phone towards the student. Ramanujam picked it up and walked towards the door. On his way out, he added, “One more thing I need to agree with you, sir”.
Dr. Yadav knew by experience that an unflattering remark was on its way. “What would that be?”
“You have run out of time”. Ramanujam let the door close behind him and the sound of quick steps faded into the distance.
The veiled threat again. The boy leaves no choice, thought Dr. Yadav. Pyare Mohan must be notified immediately. The only hitch is no one knows how to find the boy, unless, we don’t let him out of sight.
“Ghafur, come to my room immediately”. Before long, the double knock was heard and Ghafur walked in, out of breath. He had never heard a greater sense of urgency in his master’s voice and had dropped everything to be in his presence.
“Sir?”
“You remember the truant boy who supposedly left to see his grandfather?”
“Yes, sir. His name is Ramanujam. Why?”
“He is back. He was in this room till a few minutes back. I want someone to keep a watch on him and find out where he goes”.
“Any problem, sir?” It was one of the few occasions Ghafur had chosen to ask why. Dr. Yadav didn’t mind it. It was one of those unusual requests.
“Looks like he might be up to some mischief and it will be good for us to keep him out of trouble”.
“Sir, I will notify the security to keep an eye out for him”.
Not that it is going to help, thought the professor. He will be one of the multitude of students exiting the campus and the moment he leaves, there is no tracking him unless you have someone to follow him. Hindsight is always perfect. Only Pyare Mohan can solve this.
“What is the matter, Yadav? You sound a bit, um, shaken and stirred.”
“The boy is back, Pyare Mohan. He met me and has given me enough reasons for me to agree with you.”
“As in?”
“He needs to be eliminated before he sends me to oblivion”.
“Mmm, how exactly do we find him?” The politician’s words were painfully slower than they normally are.
“He has, by now, probably left the campus, but he will be back here same time tomorrow. If we can have him terminated before he enters the campus – you see, outside it could be any hit and run, but inside is a different matter – nothing could suit us better”.
“Ah, Yadav, I am glad you have come around to my point of view. You should have never doubted my instincts though. Good, it is settled then. Tomorrow, he will meet his maker and I will meet you”.
“Where?”
“At your desk. Don’t be surprised. It will be a discreet visit to meet my friend. If I come with my official entourage, it may alert more people than we want to. Not a word to anyone, I urge you”.
CHAPTER 27: Return of the Prodigal Son
“Not a word to anyone, I urge you. You will tell our folks about where we went and what we did, nothing of the mishaps that befell us, nor about your help at the press-conference and nothing at all about my last move. God willing, Ananta, I will see you in our village soon”.
“Rama, why should I leave now? If it is going to be only a few more days, can we not go together? We started together, can we not complete the journey together?”
“Just for today and tomorrow, I feel that your presence in the village will assure my safety in the city. And, I need you to be available to take my call tomorrow, undisturbed.”
“I can do that from here. Why the village?”
“I was hoping to wind up matters today, but the professor was smart enough to see my ruse. Today’s conversation has gone unrecorded. It is good for me that the conversation was truncated so that I could seek another appointment for tomorrow. Between now and tomorrow, our adversaries, for that is how I see them now, might act to seal my fate for good. I don’t want you to get caught in the crossfire”.
“Rama, are you saying there is a possibility of an adverse result?”
“Ananta, if you are talking about death, the answer is ’Yes’. However, I have faith that the right will prevail. Besides, by myself, I have a better chance of survival until tomorrow evening”.
“Rama, if I don’t see you again...”, Ananta was choking with emotion.
“You will. Now is not the time to get tearful. We have had good times together and we will soon meet again. The bus will be leaving any minute now. Now, wipe your tears, smile and set sail”.
“This is my first time, Rama.”
Suddenly, Ramanujam realised that it was the first time Ananta was going to travel by himself. He will be castigated at home for this. But a worse fate lay in store in the capital. This was the less painful choice.
“Ananta, we have been together for these past few months and I do not believe you have any affliction. If it did exist, it is no longer there. You are as good as any of us around here. Trust me.”
Ananta’s eyes welled up again. “For once, I have someone who trusts me enough to leave me alone. I go home alone. Our travels have made me a better person, but it is the village that I belong to”.
“You told me, Ananta”.
The bus pulled slowly away from the boarding platform in reverse.
“Convey my enquiries to all, tell me I will be with them soon”, said Ramanujam jogging alongside the bus as it tried to navigate its way out of the bus-stand.
Ananta turned his face to look at Ramanujam whose was losing pace against the gaining bus. “If you need help, Rama, what..”
“I will seek Him, ...” Ram stopped running.
“..who sustains us all”, completed Ananta to himself, looking at his cousin who was now rapidly receding.
Unlike his contemporaries, grandfather had not been a man of rituals. He had learnt the basics of the tradition he had been raised in and devised his own rules to live by. Never praise a man falsely expecting something in return. If you need help, seek Him who sustains us all, he would say.
Grandfather had had his ideals and lived by them. His grandson is likely to die for them. Too much fire in the belly. Ananta, the stay-at-home grandson, had been close to his grandfather. Nevertheless, he had got over his grandfather’s demise fairly quickly. If the death of an old one can be accepted as the flow of nature, the death of a young one would be the blow of nature.
“Peanuts?”
Ananta was snapped out of his thoughts by the vendor. The bus had stopped at an important junction in an attempt to pick up more passengers. Ananta waved him away and his mind went back to the incident on the Bangalore train involving the tea vendor. Despite being deprived of tea, the incident was still amusing. Ananta covered his face as tears jerked their way out of his eyes. Memories of the dead bring tears, why do memories of the living do the same?
Of one thing Ananta was sure. Rama will do his duty alive or dead. That shall be some comfort to him. But what to explain to the family – of the places they visited, the escape, the lies about their whereabouts – somehow would put Rama in poor light. It was at least to avoid this, Rama should live, thought Ananta. Selfish thoughts in a way, yes.
Ananta could not discern the fear of the likely end in Rama. Rama was himself, calm and occupied. Ananta excluded, the younger Rama used to be the last to take a dip in the cold river, was the last to climb the banyan tree and slide down one of its hanging roots and was the last to ride a bicycle.
But the Rama he had last seen at the bus-stan
d showed no fear. He believed he was on the side of right against wrong and had the courage of his conviction. Ananta knew that within 24 hours, he would know if his own fears were justified or not. He slowly rocked off to a peaceful sleep only to be woken up by a blaring noise hours later. It was past mid-night and the bus-driver had made his routine pit-stop at a road-side eatery to re-fuel himself. The shop was playing the latest hits to the delight of the drivers who needed a distraction to stay awake for the rest of the journey and an annoyance to the passengers who wanted to sleep. To go back to sleep was impossible. Ananta got down and stretched himself. One look in each of the buses and any socio-psychologist will know how Indian women acquire their tremendous self-control, thought Ananta. At the pit-stop, where it was impossible to sleep on, the buses now had women in majority – none of them had alighted – while the menfolk had stumbled along into the semi-darkness to relieve themselves. This lack of facility is what teaches the women about self-control, a lesson that stays with them for life. Whereas, the men were not limited by such shortcomings. ’Body Fluid dynamics of Indian Men’, as Rama has mentioned.
Rama, Rama! After months of being with him, it was impossible not to think of him in each thing. To Ananta, the pall of dread he felt the previous evening seemed to be lifting. Perhaps it was the late night hour that made deep thinking impossible. Or, it was the deafening noise that deadened all emotion. Or, maybe it was the sixth sense telling all was well.
Ananta spotted his bus’ driver washing his hands after his meal and climbed back on to the bus and reclined in his seat. Sleep returned after the bus was well on its way. It was still dark when the bus reached its destination. It will be a few hours before the local buses and auto-rickshaws start to ply. Ananta spread a newspaper on the step of a shuttered shop and set himself and his luggage on it.