Where Angels Prey

by Ramesh S Arunachalam

Chandresh laughs before taking a seat across the table from Bob.

  The waiter comes to check if he would like breakfast.

  “Why don’t you, Chan? Their spread is pretty good.”

  “Thanks Bob, but I’ll pass. No cooked food for me till lunch. Wouldn’t mind some coffee, though.”

  Chandresh orders his coffee. The waiter nods in acknowledgment before hurrying away.

  “So, something exciting that you’ve been working on?”, asks Bob.

  “Exciting? I am not sure I would use that word. But yes, it was a challenging opportunity.”

  Chandresh seems hesitant about divulging details.

  “I think I have embarked on a challenging mission too. To verify if all that glitters is indeed gold!”

  Chandresh laughs.

  “So, is Kamineni the only gold you are after?”

  “Not really. Although this journey sort of began with him. I got to meet him at the CIRIG office in Boston last week. And I should be meeting him again in….

  Bob looks at his wristwatch before adding,

  “...about an hour from now.”

  Chandresh raises his eyebrows.

  “Of course, the big man will bend over backwards to please you, given the publication you represent. His biggest fans are from your part of the world, after all.”

  Bob’s eyes gleam with amusement.

  “Do I detect a sour note? I guess you both are not the best of pals?”

  Chandresh grins broadly.

  “Far from it! But be warned, you may become persona non grata by the time you are done. He used to be ultra polite with me too, in a different life.”

  Bob shrugs.

  “We’re not here to make friends anyway. So, does that mean you won’t go with me to the SAMMAAN office?”

  “Poor Kamineni. Let us not put his diplomatic skills to such great test!”

  Chandresh throws back his head and laughs. Just then, his phone rings and he excuses himself to take the call.

  Bob drains the coffee from his cup before checking his watch again.

  “Come on, let’s go!”

  Bob looks up in surprise.

  “You mean you’re going with me? I thought you…”

  “Breaking news, there has been a fire at the SAMMAAN office!”

  Bob is shocked.

  “What are you saying? How did it happen? Was it an accident or some kind of arson?”

  “You came here for a soft news story. Looks like you’ll be reporting hard news instead.”

  Bob is still befuddled as he follows Chandresh out of the café.

  The steel and glass façade of the SAMMAAN office is covered in smoke and soot. The fire brigade has left but one can see the remnants of their efforts in the form of puddles all over the place. The police are having a hard time keeping the jostling media out of the way as experts try to investigate the cause of the tragedy.

  For it is now a tragedy that has consumed three lives. Among the dead are a security guard, a junior accountant and Sridevi, executive assistant to Prasad Kamineni. While the accountant was already dead by the time the rescue team broke in, the other two died on the way to the hospital. The cause of death in all three cases appeared to be asphyxiation.

  Even as the media try their best to enter the premises and get first-hand information on what has transpired, Prasad Kamineni is seen emerging from the building. The man is clearly distraught and is supported by two of his staff members. As he walks out, the media breaks through the police cordon and surges ahead with mikes and cameras in hand.

  Chaos prevails for a few seconds before the police step in to restore order. The journalists, however, are not to be deterred.

  “Mr Kamineni, how did the fire break out?”

  “Do you suspect arson or foul play?”

  “What do you have to say about the deaths?”

  Kamineni raises his hand, requesting silence.

  “It is my duty to answer all your questions. If I can take them one by one, please? Before that, I would like to say a few words myself.”

  The journalists quieten down and wait for Kamineni to continue.

  “I do not know what or who caused the fire. That is something that the police investigation will reveal. The culprits, if any, will certainly be brought to book soon. I have made a humble request to the Police Commissioner on the matter. However, whatever may be the cause, I accept complete responsibility for this tragedy on behalf of SAMMAAN. I have personally suffered the loss of three employees, one of whom was practically a sister to me. I am grieving like any other family member would. I want to announce an ex-gratia payment of one million rupees to the families of each of those we have lost. Money can never make up for this loss but I hope it will contribute to the futures of the children they have left behind.”

  “Considering the killing he made by selling his shares just ahead of the IPO, he can afford to pay this and more!”

  Bob overhears a senior journalist’s remark to one of his colleagues. He turns to look at Chandresh who merely shrugs. Clearly, Kamineni’s remorse, genuine or otherwise, is not cutting ice.

  “Mr Kamineni, apparently the fire started around 6 am. What were your executive assistant and the office accountant doing here that early?”

  Kamineni looks stricken.

  “I am afraid I must take the blame for that. We have an AGM coming up in three days’ time. We were supposed to get a lot of paperwork ready for that. In fact, I was due to join them myself. I was on my way when my car broke down. I called for a cab and was waiting for it to arrive when I was informed about the fire. I rushed here in the first autorickshaw I could find. When I got here, there was nothing to be done.”

  “A hollow excuse if ever I have heard one.”

  The senior journalist mutters yet again before raising his hand.

  “Mr Kamineni, do you think this fire has anything to do with the series of microfinance-related suicides the state has been witnessing? If my sources are right, at least seven of the reported cases were clients of SAMMAAN.”

  Kamineni turns sharply towards the journalist. He sees Bob and Chandresh standing beside him. It is gone in the fraction of a second but Bob catches an expression of anger mixed with consternation on Kamineni’s face.

  “Sir, both are terrible tragedies. I would not like to link one to the other. Certainly not before the police have had time to investigate. However, with regard to the suicides, I would like to reiterate that SAMMAAN does not resort to arm-twisting or any other illegal debt-recovery practices. If there have been suicides, they have not been the result of any coercive tactics on our part. As we all know, there are around two hundred thousand reported cases of suicide in India every year.”

  The police indicate that the media wind up their interrogation. As Kamineni is escorted to his car, he stops to greet Bob and Chandresh.

  “I am so sorry we are meeting again under such unfortunate circumstances, Bob.”

  “I am really sorry too, Prasad, but accidents happen.”

  “Yes Bob, they do.”

  Kamineni greets Chandresh.

  “Chandresh…”

  “Unfortunate thing to have happened, Prasad…I can see how personally you’ve taken it.”

  “Of course, I have lost three members of my family today.”

  Chandresh nods as he places his hand on Prasad’s shoulder.

  Kamineni turns back to Bob.

  “Bob, you must excuse me for today. Give me a day or two to get a grip on myself. We can then meet and discuss things at length.”

  “Of course, Prasad, you have a lot to attend to now. Please do not worry about me! I am planning to visit various MFIs in different districts of AP to gather a grassroots-level understanding of the state of the sector. We could certainly speak once I return. But, in the meantime, it would be great if your office can facilitate interactions with your staff and clientele across the branches.”

  “Certainly, Bob. Just mail us a travel plan in terms of which districts
you intend on visiting and when. My office will make sure that you get all the support you need. Have you made arrangements for transport and other things? We would be happy to spare you one of our vehicles, and one of our staff could accompany you too.”

  “Very kind of you to offer, Prasad, particularly under the circumstances. But Chandresh is making all the arrangements. We will be travelling together.

  Kamineni smiles faintly.

  “You have the best possible guide, then. He probably knows more about the grassroots goings-on than any of us. But I am sure you will make your own assessment.”

  “Of course, Prasad, we journalists have multiple sources but the ultimate assessment remains ours.”

  “But of course.”

  Kamineni nods at both men before walking towards his car.

  “He does seem visibly disturbed.”

  Chandresh shrugs.

  “I am still wondering what they were really doing here at daybreak.”

  “He did say something about an annual general body meeting.”

  “He did. I can even understand the accountant, but why Kamineni’s executive assistant?”

  Bob looks at Chandresh contemplatively.

  “Yet another question that begs to be answered!”

  CHAPTER 10

  PARICHEMAM, 2 OCTOBER 2010

  Ramaiyya wakes up to a headache and an itchy throat—a clear sign that he has gone without a drink for too long. He slowly sits up, holding his pounding head in his hands. It is dark all around him save for the streaks of sunlight leaking through the cracks in the roof. The dilapidated structure used to be a cattle shed and a residual odour still lingers in the air. Ramaiyya idly wonders which is worse—the pungent smell or the oppressive heat caused by the asbestos sheets on the roof. The place is now a hideout for Bhava Reddy’s men. The land belongs to Bhava himself, a follower of political strongman Nageswara Reddy.

  Ramiayya has been working for Bhava Reddy for almost a decade. An erstwhile history-sheeter with interests ranging from illicit liquor to brothels, Bhava had acquired a veneer of respectability after he joined politics some six years ago. After a fair bit of party hopping, he finally settled down in Nageshwara Reddy’s party. Meanwhile, his other activities continued. The baton was merely passed on to Bhava Reddy’s nephew, Chiranjeevi. The nephew proved a worthy successor by expanding his uncle’s repertoire to include various other activities such as extortion and kidnapping.

  In the general elections held the previous year, Nageshwara Reddy’s party had won enough parliamentary seats to merit a presence in the coalition that now held the reins of power at the centre. Bhava Reddy’s clout and connections, in addition to the generous handouts, had ensured that the district police force turned a blind eye to their activities for a long time, but the ascension to power tilted the scales even further in their favour. Bhava Reddy and his band of men developed a stronger sense of entitlement.

  A huge feeling of resentment seizes Ramaiyya as he thinks back to the events of the last few days and, more importantly, the part played by DM Veena Mehra. The woman had been a thorn in their side ever since she had taken charge of the district three months ago.

  It had begun with a raid on one of their distilleries; then there was the freeing of a bonded labourer who worked on the lands of one of the party benefactors. And now, the crackdown on the loan recovery operations of SAMMAAN Microfinance. Chiranjeevi often assisted these operations on the insistence of his wife Jamuna, whose cousin, Gopal Reddy worked as a loan recovery agent with SAMMAAN.

  Their last operation had been the abduction of two girls from his village, Parichemam, to coerce their parents into settling the multiple loans they had taken, and the instalments for which had been more than six months overdue. They had taken both the girls to an old, unused warehouse that ‘belonged’ to Bhava Reddy. Ramaiyya and his team took turns to guard the warehouse while negotiations were on with the parents.

  Ramaiyya had expected the operation to go smoothly, as it almost always did. The parents would pay up and the girls would be returned safely. But DM Veena Mehra and her dogged determination upset all his plans. She organized a special police party to rescue the girls; the team raided the warehouse where the girls had been held captive and even managed to free one of them.

  Ramaiyya had not been there at the time of the raid. It was his younger son’s birthday and he had gone home to be with him. After stuffing his face with the spicy fish curry his wife had cooked, Ramaiyya had fallen asleep. He was in the middle of a dream involving a buxom film heroine when his wife’s scream jolted him out of it.

  “Run, before the cops get here! They have rescued Gomti’s daughter from the warehouse. The DM is coming here to speak to her. She is bound to identify you!”

  For a moment Ramaiyya had not been sure which to rue more—the abrupt end to his fantasy or the girl’s rescue. Then he regained his wits and scrammed.

  It had been four days since. He had gone straight to Chiranjeevi’s house and was directed to hide in the old cow shed nearby. He assumed that the police would sniff around for just a few days. But clearly, the DM had other plans.

  Ramaiyya curses under his breath. Who decided that women should be educated and occupy positions of power? The bitch probably fancied herself as some film heroine out to serve justice to the poor!

  Ramaiyya sits up with a start as he hears the door creak open. He heaves a sigh of relief when he sees that it is his wife, carrying a tiffin. He realizes he has not eaten a morsel in almost eight hours. Feeling ravenous, he grabs the tiffin and starts stuffing his face with food.

  “Have you brought my liquor too?”

  “Today is Gandhi Jayanti, the liquor shops are all closed.”

  Ramaiyya curses under his breath.

  “I met the DM last night.”

  Ramaiyya almost spits out the food in his mouth.

  “What...what are you talking about?”

  “I met Veena Madam ji last night. She alone can save—”

  Ramaiyya slaps her hard across her face. Either the woman is immune to his violence or he is losing his strength for she hardly flinches.

  “Are you crazy? I don’t need any saving! I have my bosses to take care of my safety, they are the ones that have put a roof over our heads!”

  “Enough of your nonsense. Your bosses may have paid for the booze that courses through your veins, but they certainly haven’t kept my children or me from cold or hunger. If it weren’t for my snacks stall, we would all be out on the streets.”

  “Enough of your drama! You talk too much only because you have a few pennies in your hand. Let me just get out of here, I’m going to send you back to your parents’ home!”

  “When you get out of here, you are going straight to prison and nowhere else.”

  “So you went and pleaded with the DM to set her cops after me? Revealed my whereabouts, have you?”

  “I might have, if you hadn’t been the father of my children. But I didn’t want them to be orphaned!”

  Ramaiyya is on the verge of losing patience. Part of him just wants to push her aside and get away, maybe go to the Municipal Councillor’s house, ask for some money and escape to the city for a while.

  Almost as if she can read his mind, his wife says, “Don’t waste your time making plans. Bhava Reddy has been suspended from the party on disciplinary grounds. He is too busy saving his own skin to bother about yours!”

  Ramaiyya is now a worried man.

  “How do you know all this?”

  “The farmhand working on their lands told his wife and she told me. That is why I went rushing to the DM last night.”

  “How did you find her? You couldn’t have just walked into her house!”

  “I can and I did. Now just shut up and listen to what happened.”

  Would the DM help her husband? Or was she unwittingly laying a trap for him herself? This thought was uppermost in Vijaya’s mind as she waited outside the DM’s bungalow. It helped that she knew the
guard on duty; his niece was an acquaintance of hers. Seeing her plight, he had taken pity on her and agreed to inform the DM of her request for an audience.

  He had been gone for almost ten minutes. And Vijaya had just begun to wonder if she was better off leaving, when he came rushing back.

  “DM Madam has asked me to bring you in. Come now, be quick!”

  Vijaya practically ran into the bungalow with the old guard struggling to keep pace with her.

  The cook escorted her to the reception area and pointed towards a sofa in a corner. Vijaya was too overwhelmed to even consider sitting. The man shrugged and left.

  Vijaya mentally rehearsed her lines. Hardly five minutes later, when the DM walked into the room and nodded at her, all thoughts fled Vijaya’s mind. She was sure she would not be able to get even a word out. Luckily for her, the DM was talking on her phone and probably didn’t notice her expression.

  “Okay beta, finish your homework quickly now and I will ask your dad to take you to the movies over the weekend.”

  Vijaya had not been able to comprehend much of her conversation, but her tone and the mention of homework made her conclude that she was probably talking to her child. The thought made Veena seem a little less intimidating. She was a mother too, just like her. She would surely understand Vijaya’s concern for her children.

  “Yes...what did you want to see me about?”

  Her tone was authoritative and impersonal. Vijaya felt tears springing to her eyes. At a loss for words, she did the only thing that she could think of.

  Veena Mehra was visibly taken aback when Vijaya prostrated herself before her.

  “Hey...get up now...I don’t appreciate this kind of behaviour!”

  Vijaya could not control herself any more. She started crying loudly.

  Veena quickly summoned her assistant and asked him to help her up. The man hesitated and Vijaya shrunk back, reminding Veena about the sensitive gender dynamics in the village. She asked him to get Vijaya some water and helped her up. The kindness made Vijaya cry harder. Finally, after much protest, Veena managed to make her sit on a chair opposite hers.