She had landed in Hyderabad through sheer luck. In 2000, with the qualifying credentials of a higher secondary degree, she had applied for a scholarship at Loyola College of Journalism and was selected on the basis of a blog that she maintained. Soon, she began her college education, focusing more on freelance assignments than attending classes. As it turned out, she was more of a student-writer-at-work than a traditional student attending college. She spent most of her time writing features, corporate blogs and other such assignments.
In 2004, after having completed her undergraduate studies, she applied for a position at the Deccan Courier. She was again selected and recruited as a reporter. Tasks assigned to her ranged from writing for the gourmet section to attending press conferences.
But crime stories captivated her interest. The crime beat was both challenging and rewarding. She developed a devoted network of close friends who helped her get scoops on breaking stories. Her sources became her strength. In addition to this, reporting crime stories also meant flexible work hours. Her work schedule was now reduced to three to four hours a day, allowing her to focus on hobbies like learning Germanic languages.
Along with her roommate Ritika, Darshu had short-leased an apartment in Marredpally for three months, but they had stayed on for more than eight months. For two single women living independently in a city, this was not only the safest but also the most carefree apartment available.
‘They ran my story without even editing it!’ Darshu shouted. ‘Ritika, where are you? What are you doing inside? Your coffee is getting cold!’
Ritika Patel was Darshu’s college friend and roommate. Unlike her friend, Ritika was a self-proclaimed ‘party animal’. After graduating with Darshu, she had worked as a management trainee in the corporate communication division of an MNC and was soon offered a job. She enjoyed her work as well as her salary, which more than covered her exuberant nightlife.
Ritika came out with a cup of coffee in one hand and a sandwich in the other. She frowned at Darshu’s grip on the newspaper and found her roommate staring intently at the words.
‘What’s wrong with you?’
Darshu looked up. ‘Did you see this?’
‘No.’ Ritika shook her head, laughing. ‘It’s not office hours yet.’
Darshu growled in frustration. ‘What office hours? Reading can’t be part of office hours. Look, our editor did not edit the copy!’ She shook the newspaper for emphasis.
‘Good for you! Must’ve been perfect, as usual.’ Ritika lifted her brows as she sipped her coffee. Her roommate’s perfectionism was as amusing as always.
Darshu ducked her head, dark hair concealing her features. ‘I could have written it in a different way …’
‘Yes, Darshu. That’s very good to know. Now, on to more important things.’ She glanced at her. ‘Did you get New Year’s party passes for the Taj?’
‘No.’
‘No? I’ve been asking you to do it almost every day! There’s hardly any time left! What am I supposed to do?’
‘I can’t really help, Ritika. You need four passes. Where will I get so many?’
‘Okay, if not Taj, how about Baseraa?’ Ritika hated settling for a smaller venue, but it would have to do.
‘I’ll try …’ Darshu said in a soft voice.
‘Do you want me to talk to your boss? I’m good at that.’ Ritika winked.
Darshu did not respond. Instead, she walked into the passageway that connected the balcony to the living room. She side-stepped around the coffee table and the sofa to reach for a wooden stool stored underneath the computer table. Then she powered on the CPU as she pulled out the stool.
‘I said I’d try, and I will. Okay?’ she called. ‘Now, if you get ready, we can go early today.’
Ritika did not let her finish. ‘Hmm, go early? Some important meeting with the cute new marketing manager, huh?’
‘Shut up!’
Kanu stopped near a public telephone booth where newspapers were neatly laid out on a wooden cot. He parked his bike and pulled out a copy of the Deccan Courier. He could not locate the news in the daily or its city supplement. He reached for his mobile.
‘Bansi, there is no news, ra!’
‘It’s on the front page, ra.’
‘Front page! I thought some chindi news might have come … Wow! Look at this!’ Kanu exclaimed as he read his name and other details in the newspaper.
‘First time in the newspaper, ra!’ exclaimed Kanu. ‘Our guru used to say: Kam karneka aise ke paper mein photo aneko hona!’
‘The photo is of a van. Not you!’
‘I am in the van, ra!’
It was business as usual for most Sathyamev Computer Services employees, but Pranjal sat inside the nineteenth floor conference room, sweaty and nervous. Samba Rajput, Sathyamev’s chief operating officer, had summoned him for an urgent meeting about the newspaper report on the data breach.
Pranjal sat with Venkatesh Hari, his counterpart from the human resources department, who, in contrast to Pranjal, looked calm and relaxed. Venkatesh was an old-timer at Sathyamev and was the official spokesperson for the company. He was dressed in a well-tailored suit and looked youthful with cropped hair, chiseled features, and a body that spoke of regular trips to the gym.
Exactly at 11.00 a.m., Samba Rajput walked in with a glamorous female assistant in tow. Samba had thick, long hair and gray eyes. His dark leisure suit, white starched shirt and gray tie made him look quite distinguished.
Samba took a seat at the opposite end of the table, his face unresponsive and grave. After a few seconds, he shot a glance at his assistant.
‘Sheena, can you set up the projector?’ Samba looked hard at Pranjal and then at Venkatesh. ‘This is not what we want to read about Sathyamev in the newspaper – this news report on the data breach. It’s just not done. We have to get behind the story and find out the truth. But before we do that, our CEO would like to talk to you.’
Samba adjusted his chair closer to the table. ‘Sheena, are we connected yet?’
At twenty-one, Sheena was eighteen years younger than her boss but was handy with all things technical. She did not reply or nod. Instead, she punched codes into a handheld device and spoke into the microphone on the conference table.
‘Hi, this is Sheena from HQ. Am I audible?’ she said. ‘I have entered the codes.’
As the screen flickered, the shaky image of a frail-looking man wearing a pin-striped shirt, sitting on a lounge chair in a distant poolside luxury hotel, appeared.
The image stabilized and the slim figure converged into the renowned face they had known for many years: Rana Rajput. The image was not just a projection of a man sitting far away – to his men, Rana mirrored the image of an enlightened man.
Rana loved to give the impression of being able to transcend physical distances; he wanted to be seen as a man who could do anything. He was sitting outside a luxury hotel in some foreign country and also inside a conference room in Sathyamev’s headquarters at the same time.
Rana had been a father figure to the entire information technology industry that had mushroomed in and around Cyberabad. ‘As a captain of the outsourcing industry,’ the chief minister of Andhra Pradesh once gloated in his IT Conclave inaugural address, ‘Rana Rajput is no less than a legend.’
Rana put on his spectacles and looked down at his men, searing contempt visible in his eyes. ‘Gentlemen, give me updates. Only bullet points!’
Terrified, Pranjal began mumbling. ‘Sir, we have started … have got to … come to know … why … it happened. How it happened …’
Venkatesh took over. Leaning towards the microphone, he outlined the work in progress. ‘We have pieced together information about the data breach. The person in question is a small-timer from Rezimental Street. Our sources in the police department have confirmed that they found a few files on Sathyamev.’
‘What files?’ the voice from the speaker asked.
‘It’s a log – customers log and thr
ee years’ worth of declared financial statements. I’ve not seen it. But there could be more.’
‘Pranjal, how did this breach happen?’
Venkatesh did not let Pranjal speak. ‘Seems that an auditor’s laptop must have gone out to be serviced to these guys. We are strict on RSA security installations. All our laptops are secured, but auditors do not comply with our standards. They have access to all our files, and someone must have left his laptop with these guys. Our investigation is ongoing. You will get a report by the evening.’
‘Can you check what can be done to plug this auditor thing? Pranjal, let me know. Keep it in bullet points.’
‘Yes sir,’ agreed Pranjal. He looked relieved.
Samba glared at him, as if to say thank you and leave the room. He was utterly disappointed by the way his CIO had handled the crisis. Pranjal collected his papers and walked out quietly. As he was leaving, he overheard Venkatesh take up another topic.
‘Sir, the discrepancy in recruitment figures – and there are thousands of unknown employees – is mainly due to a mismatch with campus placements. Even I don’t know how these figures are tallied. There is something wrong with –’
Then the door closed behind him.
Darshu reached her office at 11.30 a.m. and was greeted by Ayesha Pathan, her supervisor. Ayesha occupied the seat allocated to Darshu and tapped away at the keyboard. Darshu rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips, as if to scare away her boss from the seat.
‘There is no security in this place. Anyone can access my computer!’ Darshu said.
‘I’ve told you many times it’s all interconnected. And I like this keyboard!’ Ayesha replied. ‘By the way, your copy on the computer crime was good. You should dig deeper. Collect evidence on how these hacker groups leave no trails behind. It’s kind of magical, isn’t it?’
‘I know!’
‘I was discussing this with Gaurav. He said he received a call from our Delhi office, and he’s going to call you about it.’
‘Really? The Delhi office!’
‘Yes.’
‘Wow! I didn’t think this was such a big story.’
That afternoon, Darshu began her investigation. She started with Google. Computer + crime. The results listed articles from Kevin Mitchnik’s exploits to the involvement of Russian mafia in the identity theft business. Nothing terribly useful, but considering her lack of knowledge on the matter, it was informative. She continued her quest with computer + hackers, computer + white crime, hacker + getting rich, hacking + Hyderabad.
For about an hour, Darshu struggled to make sense of the articles. This is no use, she finally thought. I can get better information from the place where it all started. MNR Internet Café + Secunderabad. Google’s reply: Did you mean MNR Cyber Café?
Hell, yes!
It took about fifteen minutes to reach Rezimental Street and locate MNR Cyber Café. She liked the uncluttered interior and the seating arrangements. The soothing background score made her feel at ease. The cubicles in the café were arranged in the centre, in a double H-shaped wooden framework. Cabins were located in the corners of the shop. They were fitted with sliding doors for privacy. Instructions on the cabins read: Do Not Load Pornographic Sites. Please, We Are Hyderabadis! A printed poster plastered nearby listed the charges.
She looked around, hoping to find someone. A girl, who seemed like a customer, was standing some feet away. ‘There’s no one at the reception desk?’ Darshu asked her.
A voice from underneath the desk startled her.
‘Right here, at your service,’ shouted Kanu as he emerged with printer cables in one hand and cartridges in the other. ‘Sorry about that. The printers are acting up. Happens all the time. Can you give me two more minutes?’
She knew right away the man with the cables and cartridges was her quarry. How could such an attractive young man be a major hacker? And a repair man for printers? Instinctively, she felt the need to twirl her hair, to touch it. She was surprised by the attraction she felt for this guy. What is this? Criminals are not my type!
Kanu opened the printer tray and arranged the papers in the proper order. In no time, the printer lit up and started churning out documents. The college girl looked excited. She began piecing papers together.
‘That’s not the correct order,’ Kanu said, taking hold of the papers.
‘Give me that,’ the girl said teasingly. Clearly, Darshu wasn’t the only one taken with his good looks. ‘You take this.’ She handed another set of papers to him as she crossed over to the printer, gently brushing her hands against his arm.
Kanu was flushed.
‘Do you have time to talk?’ Darshu asked.
‘Yes, in ten minutes. Please have a seat,’ he said, pointing to the visitors’ chair.
Darshu felt like she was kept waiting much longer than ten minutes while Kanu continued arranging the girl’s report. And the annexures. And the graphs. How difficult could it be to put one report in order? I bet his smile makes this place veeeery popular among college girls. He’s probably like a rockstar, always surrounded by cheering college girls, messy hair and all!
Tired of watching the show, she pulled out her pad and started scribbling. ‘Expected waiting period – 10 minutes,’ she noted. ‘Nice Music. Tempting ambience.’ She looked around for details. A message that caught her attention read: Be Cyber Smart. The sign ended with a call to join the good fight against cyber crime. A website, e-mail address and telephone number were provided for further assistance. She noted the details in her pad. While she scribbled, she watched how the girl leaned over him. As if it was difficult to face the monitor from any other direction. She had her hand on his and was pointing the cursor to the screen.
‘Orange and purple walls?’ Darshu continued to write. ‘Playful colours. I always wanted to have our apartment painted like this. Will it look nice in my room? No! The girl is looking more nervous now. God! Is she going to faint or what? What’s wrong with her?’
After twenty minutes, Darshu realized the girl had finished her work and was on the way out. Finally.
Darshu stared at Kanu for a moment, then stood up, notepad in her hand. ‘You seem to have a lot of work to do,’ she started. ‘Could you spare some time for my report as well?’
‘Yeah, that’s our bread and butter. Something on a floppy drive or a disc?’ he asked.
‘Yes, actually, I am here to write a report. But I don’t have a disc.’
‘No problem – I can help you write it. Have you prepared anything for the project?’
‘Project? No, I’m not here for a college project. I am Darshu Soni from the Deccan Courier and I have a few questions for you.’
Minutes later, Darshu stood outside the café, phone in hand. ‘He kicked me out!’ she exclaimed, her voice trembling. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, but when she spoke again, her voice still carried a tremor. ‘What am I supposed to do now?’
She pressed her palm to her other ear. ‘What? No. I was polite. He said that he is not interested. Yes, I requested. Listen, I am just down the street from MNR Cyber Café. Can you please come?’ She twirled her hair and then pulled at it, frowning.
Pranjal sat staring at his Action Taken Report. Time was running out. The data breach incident was unexpected and by far exceeded his worst fears. He picked up the phone to call his assistant.
‘What’s the status?’ He paused to listen. ‘Good. Give me the updates as soon as the hard-disc is secured.’
He heaved a sigh of relief before calling Venkatesh. ‘Hello, Venkatesh, this is Pranjal. I believe the Internet connection to the hacker’s café has been disconnected. Their computers and hard discs will be wiped clean by the evening. SISI Security men have been tasked with this job. We’ll get you the report as planned.’
‘Did you speak to the editor of the newspaper?’ Venkatesh asked.
‘Am I supposed to talk to the editor as well?’ The shrill tone of his voice belied his notion that he had ever
ything under control.
‘Don’t bother. I’ll do that,’ Venkatesh said coldly.
‘Okay … are you sure?’ Pranjal asked.
‘Yes,’ Venkatesh snapped and hung up.
Hovering outside the cyber café, Darshu realized that her curt approach might have been the reason for Kanu’s instant rebuff. She was not prepared to tackle the situation. Usually people welcomed reporters who wanted to write profiles about them. This guy looked so cool. What could have happened? Was it because his ISP got snapped and there was no Internet connection? But what have I got to do with the Internet?
She walked towards Abdul Bakery across the road, which looked more like a small joint than a proper restaurant. She needed a cup of tea to settle her nerves. It’s not rejection for the sake of rejection, she reminded herself.
A little later, Ritika emerged from an auto rickshaw. As she crossed the busy street, Darshu noticed for the first time that her friend was a stunner. Her hair, her shape, her face. Stunner and my BFF! She is always there in the time of crisis.
‘What happened?’ Ritika asked, pulling up a chair next to Darshu. She signalled to the man at the counter staring at her. ‘One more coffee, please,’ she smiled.
‘Nothing. He’s busy with college girls, and I’m left without work. Look, two more girls are walking in. They must be coming in for college reports.’
‘Who is busy with girls? Darshu, what are you saying?’
‘Remember the hacker story? That story I did about a hacker? Today’s pullout? So I went inside for an interview –’
‘– and there were girls?’
‘Yeah, I wanted to know about his work. Looks like he does girls – I mean, college reports for girls.’
‘So, what can I do? Why did you call me, Darshu?’ asked Ritika.
‘Do me a favour. Can you go in and get me some notes? Anything. Say you want to make a college report or something.’
‘Okay …’
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