‘You just don’t get it. There’s smoke. There’s fire. All of it can’t be a rumour. There has to be some grain of truth in the news.’ Rana flipped through the newspaper on his desk and picked up a pen to underline an article with the headline: Navarjuna arms itself with 2000 crores for Hyderabad Now Metro.
Rana sat down cross-legged, holding the newspaper. ‘I tell you, these politicians and bureaucrats can’t be trusted. They’ll take money from everyone and we won’t even know about it. Do you understand the implications of losing this bid? All our investment in real estate? Nothing. All our money spent on politicians and their relatives? Nothing. And worst of all? We go back to adding zeros and ones. No matter what it takes – we must be in a position where we can defend ourselves.’
‘I understand –’
Darshu walked with a tray of coffee in her hand, unmindful of the other passengers staring at her. Not far away, Kanu sat in the waiting area at the New Delhi airport in Palam, his eyes glued to the monitor of his laptop.
As Darshu took a seat, Kanu glanced at her for a second and then went back to tapping his fingers on the keyboard. Darshu carefully wrapped the coffee cup in tissue paper and offered it to him.
‘Coffee?’ she asked.
He nodded without looking at her. Then he stopped typing and looked at her, smiling. ‘Thank you,’ he said. After taking the coffee, he set it down on an empty chair next to him. His gaze immediately shifted back to the laptop screen.
Darshu sighed, looking away.
As she sat there sipping her coffee, the low sunlight flooded the room, cutting through the ambient lights of the airport terminal. She had always wanted to make her first international trip memorable.
‘Morning sun – serene weather – drizzle – such a nice time to be outside,’ she said sipping her coffee.
Kanu didn’t respond.
She tapped him gently on the shoulder. ‘I’ll never know if they brew coffee so well here at the airport or the coffee just tastes so good in anticipation of a long journey.’
‘What?’ He came out of his haze of thoughts.
‘Nothing. Forget it.’ She looked away, saddened.
Kanu sipped his coffee, then leaned back looking at her, this time with genuine interest. ‘The coffee here is good. And there’s this journey factor as well. I think it’s both.’
Darshu smiled. She knew his work was important.
She got up to toss the empty cup into a bin. While coming back, she picked up a newspaper from a stand nearby and began leafing through it.
‘Hmm, this story will interest you,’ she said.
‘What is it?’
‘I haven’t read it completely. Here, you read it.’
Kanu picked up the paper and began to read the article:
Hike in grants for Hyderabad Now Metro
The Centre is about to increase primary grant levels for the upcoming Hyderabad Now Metro project from 20 per cent to 30 per cent.
The urban development minister told reporters that a decision would be taken in a few days, before the last date of submission of the financial bids is finalized.
The Central grant to the Rs 10,000-crore Hyderabad Now Metro project would increase by over Rs 3,000 crore.
As usual, Kanu wasn’t the least surprised. ‘It says the winner of this bid will now receive as much as 5,000 crores. That’s 3,000 crores from the Centre and 2,000 from the state.’
‘But it all depends on the bid amount, doesn’t it?’
‘That’s correct. But the bid amount would in turn depend on the competitors. Now, if Navarjuna were to bid a large amount, others would be forced to follow suit. Such claims would require more convincing evidence. Something positive. It doesn’t have to be true, but it has to appear like the truth.’
‘You mean propaganda?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is that what you are doing over there?’ she asked, pointing to his laptop.
‘Exactly.’
‘Good. Want a bite? I’m already feeling hungry. Tell me, what kind of food do they serve? I mean, this is a first-class ticket. Do they serve wine as well?’
‘I guess.’
‘But I don’t drink.’
‘Then pass it on to me.’
‘What if you got drunk in the flight?’
‘You look nervous –’
‘No, I’m fine – sort of …’
‘It’s all very simple. We’ll have a meeting with World Bank International officials. The meeting date, time, venue, everything is fixed. Think of it as a paid holiday. A paid holiday, for as long as you want.’
‘Tell me, is this your first trip to Singapore?’
‘As a Sathyamev employee? Yes!’ he said.
At 1.10 p.m. on 12 July 2008, Samba’s gaze was fixed on a cheap, disposable cell phone that lit up in his hand. The device displayed an unknown incoming number and made no sound. But Samba had been expecting this call. He punched the green button and held it to his ear.
‘Chingappa? What’s the latest?’
As Samba listened to the voice at the other end, his face turned bright red, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. ‘That’s not good,’ he muttered. ‘What can be done now?’ He shook his head in disagreement. ‘No, we can’t fix this unless we get a green signal. I’ll let you know immediately.’
Samba disconnected the line, then picked up a yellow envelope from the table below and stood up. ‘It is confirmed. Navarjuna Group is quoting a negative grant of 1,200 crores,’ he said.
Rana was at his desk, keenly observing his computer screen that displayed rail routes crisscrossing the city of Hyderabad. He pretended to be unaware of Samba’s conversation on the phone.
‘Who was that?’ Rana said.
‘Chingappa. His information is coming from the law firm that’s assigned to vet all correspondence from the bidders. We have less than an hour to submit our revised bid,’ Samba said.
‘How much did you say Navarjuna Group –’
‘Twelve hundred crores. Instead of seeking subsidy from the government, these morons are offering 1,200 crores to emerge as the lowest bidder. And they have also committed a revenue of 30,000 crores over the project’s period of thirty years. It’s madness.’
‘So the rumour was right after all.’
‘It seems so.’
‘Can you connect the line again?’ Rana asked.
Samba punched the green button on the device and handed it over to Rana.
‘Chingappa, is it true that Navarjuna is quoting a negative grant?’ Rana paused to listen. ‘Twelve hundred crores is worth investing in. Don’t worry, I’ll get you our fresh bid in about thirty minutes.’ He disconnected.
Rana stood up and began pacing the room. ‘We’ll make a counter offer. Our bid amount would be 1,250 crores. And we will commit 30,300 crores for the project period of thirty years. Open up that envelope.’
The yellow envelope Samba carried was thick and heavy. It had ‘Hyderabad Now Metro proposal’ written on it in block letters.
‘Should I ask Sheena to get a new print?’ Samba asked.
‘No, we must do it ourselves,’ Rana said.
TWENTY
20–21 July 2008
O
n 20 July 2008, crew from all major television networks camped in the front lawn of the Hyderabad Now Metro office, each vying to be the first to break the news. As everyone waited for an official announcement, one reporter, in her recognizable black turtleneck and a red long coat, was readying herself, microphone in hand.
She looked into the camera, took a deep breath and began her story: ‘I’m here outside the Hyderabad Now Metro building. In about half an hour, government officials will make a formal announcement to declare the winning group or consortium that will bag the prestigious project. As per the protocol, the director will open the sealed bid submitted by all four consortia for this Rs 10,000-crore project. The consortium with the lowest bid will be declared the winner. The representative of the winning consorti
um will then be required to deposit the money to conclude the procedure. We will keep you informed of the developments throughout the day, but before that, let’s take a very short commercial break –’
Thousands of miles away in Singapore, Kanu leaned forward to grab the remote control and flip the news channel streaming live images from Hyderabad. On the screen, the female reporter in a black turtleneck and a long red coat gave way to a reporter clad in a crisp blue shirt who reported live from the Hyderabad Now Metro premises.
The reporter glanced at his notes before looking into the camera: ‘Remember, the Hyderabad Now Metro project is India’s biggest metro project involving construction of 71 km of elevated metro rail that will crisscross the city of Hyderabad. The metro executive team is now locked away making their decision, which we can expect at 11.30 a.m. There are unconfirmed reports that the VEMAYHTAS-led consortium will bag the project, due to massive financial backing of Sathyamev Computers. But let me remind you, this is an unconfirmed report from our sources –’
Kanu lay on an easy chair, staring at the television affixed to the wall of the room. ‘They’re already picking up the leaked news,’ he said as he lowered the volume. ‘We now have to wait for the final verdict. It’s like a ticking time bomb.’
Darshu wrapped herself in a blanket and snuggled more deeply into the bed. ‘What if the ticking time bomb doesn’t explode?’ she asked, wary of the game Kanu was playing.
‘Hmm, that was the wrong analogy. It’s more like a game of chess. Even if Rana escapes this time, he won’t in the days to come. Let’s wait,’ he said.
Back in Hyderabad, Ranjit Bhardwaj stared at the giant television screen playing a special story on NewsReview TV channel. A man wearing a dark blue suit and a matching tie coordinated the discussion: ‘Of course, the metro officials have been cautious in their statement. But is there any information as to who the front-runner is?’
The scene shifted to the exterior of the Hyderabad Now Metro building, with the voice of a reporter taking over: ‘All indications are that the process of evaluation went smoothly. What’s happening right now inside the closed doors will be known soon. But if the stock market is any indicator, Nav Hindustan Group shares witnessed about 9.5 per cent rise at the Mumbai stock exchange. The company officials have not yet confirmed the news but –’
As the reporter was about to finish the sentence, the camera abruptly cut back to the news anchor: ‘Just hold on there, Bopanna, we’re getting news from the metro officials now. This is breaking news, exclusive on our channel. The VEMAYHTAS-led consortium has been selected as the Hyderabad Now Metro developer for the city. The consortium emerged as the lowest bidder when the financial bids were opened. We are getting reports that VEMAYHTAS consortium has offered to pay Rs 1,250 crore. In addition to this, they have offered Rs 30,300 crore across the thirty-year contract period as royalty to the government. They will not take a single slice of government grant, which was available under the viability gap funding.
‘Though there was a provision for seeking viability gap funding under the norms of the public-private partnership, VEMAYHTAS had agreed to pay Rs 30,300 crore as reverse grant to the government over a period of thirty years. While three of the bidders sought financial commitments from the government in the form of venture gap funding, VEMAYHTAS offered to pay back the government and refused to take any grant.
‘The Reliant Group consortium asked for a subsidy from the government of Rs 3,100 crore, while Navarjuna Group wanted Rs 1,200 crore. But VEMAYHTAS offered to pay the government 1,250 crores.’
Ranjit at once pulled out his cell phone and dialled Samba’s number.
‘Samba, sir, I just saw the – hello – hello –’ Ranjit stammered. ‘I understand – I know you must be busy –’ Ranjit stared at his cell phone as the line got disconnected.
‘Where in hell is Chingappa? Find him,’ Rana barked aloud, his voice reverberating in the small guest room of the Hyderabad Now Metro office. Rana and Samba were especially invited to the metro building by the director to witness the bidding process.
Samba swallowed hard, making an effort to speak. ‘He called – he was here during the bidding process.’ Samba’s face was bleak. ‘He was afraid –’
‘Where the hell is he now?’
‘He called, he said he is sorry for the mistake. He said he read the quote from the original copy of the proposal. He still maintains that the Navarjuna bid amount was a negative grant of Rs 1,200 crore.’
‘So what the hell happened? The figures changed all on their own? I want him now. Call my bodyguards.’
Samba stood stunned, staring at his cellphone. He pressed a speed dial number without thinking. Even before he could disconnect the call, SISI Security members were inside the guest room.
Rana looked at the armed men. ‘Get me Chingappa. Even if he is hiding in a hole, I want him,’ Rana’s voice thundered. ‘You know what is to be done if he resists. You can go now,’ Rana said.
After the SISI men were gone, Rana continued angrily, ‘When is the CM’s secretary coming?’
‘Any moment now. I called up our lawyer as well. He will be arriving shortly. The meeting is arranged in the conference room.’
‘Get me a printed copy of the Navarjuna bid.’
‘I’m trying,’ Samba said.
Minutes later, Samba showed Rana into a dingy conference room of the metro building. Seated around the table were two harassed-looking men, both in their mid-forties. Before the men could rise from their seats to congratulate Rana, he gestured for them to remain seated.
‘This is not the right time to get me started,’ Rana announced menacingly. ‘You may not be smart enough to understand, but this is not how we wanted to win the bid.’ Rana looked back over his shoulder. ‘Samba, did you inform them why they are here?’
‘Yes. Jagjivan Reddy will clarify all our doubts about the future of this project.’
The man with thick glasses and dyed brown hair smiled. As the principal secretary of the chief minister, Reddy had played a vital role in tweaking government processes to help Rana procure lucrative deals.
Samba looked at the other man. ‘Pushkar will help us understand the legal aspects of the deal.’
‘Good. Tell me, Pushkar, what could happen if we pulled out of this agreement, citing some problem?’ Rana asked.
Reddy cleared his throat. ‘That’s not possible. You cannot pull out, Rana. We have put in months – years, in fact – just to ensure that this contract can be yours. You can’t pull out now.’
‘I know. I don’t want to lose this project either. But I still want to know the consequences of us pulling out.’
Everyone in the room stared at the lawyer.
‘The deposit money of Rs 100 crore would be forfeited. Plus, VEMAYHTAS would be ineligible for any government project in the future. In fact, VEMAYHTAS could be blacklisted for defaulting on its promises. All our existing projects with the government, including stalled projects such as the Krishnapatu port, could be withdrawn or terminated,’ Pushkar said.
‘Rana, don’t worry. The land we helped you procure on the outskirts can fetch you ten times the amount you have bid for. It’s not a bad bid to win. Three years from now, this will start reaping dividends,’ Reddy assured him.
‘True. As I said, I don’t want to lose this project. But did you see the television report? They’re all after me. Sathyamev’s shares are down by more than 12 per cent. They think that I have committed a sin by investing Sathyamev’s money into VEMAYHTAS,’ Rana said.
‘Yeah, I saw the news and commotion over the bid amount –’ Reddy said.
‘So what do we do now?’ Samba asked.
‘I think, it’s better if we wait for this to die down. The future is safe,’ Reddy replied.
‘Stupid stockbrokers. They are trying to force their views on me. Those people, they don’t realize that it’s my business. I’m the one who dishes out crumbs to them. And I’m the one who will decide their fate,’
Rana said.
The room went silent.
Reddy stood up. ‘I’m glad you called me here. But before I leave, tell me Rana, what made you bid like this? I told you very clearly we were trying to get you 5,000 crores from the government funds. Instead you promised to give 1,250 crores to the government. What made you think you were losing?’
Rana looked puzzled. He had no answer.
The ticker text scrolling at the bottom of a flat panel monitor that hung on the wall outside the studio of NewsReview TV network said it all. Breaking News: VEMAYHTAS bags Hyderabad Now Metro project. The sensational bid was big enough for the network to allocate an hour to discuss the matter with the panel.
Inside the studio at the anchor desk, Arvind Kumar was going through his notes when the red light flashed on. He began speaking: ‘This one’s a head-shaker. The Hyderabad Now Metro bidding process was never supposed to go like this. In fact, the result was so unexpected, government officials are scrambling because their bid documents had not even considered the possibility of the government being the net financial gainer. The state and the central government had expected to dole out about 50 per cent of the project cost, or Rs 5,000 crore, as a capital subsidy. But the opposite happened. I’m Arvind Kumar and you are watching NewsReview Prime Time. When we return we will talk with our experts about this episode and why Sathyamev shares are sliding.’
Arvind was in his element. His observation on the VEMAYHTAS project stood out in part because of his online research – mostly pulled out from skyscrappercity.co.in – and in part because of his confidence in the guest on the show.
As the commercial break came to an end, the camera pulled back to a wider angle, revealing an old man dressed in a dark gray suit. Arvind smiled, looking at the camera. ‘Welcome back. Today we have Mr Shrinivasan NR, a technocrat who is hailed as the metro-man for his unflinching dedication to operationalize the Delhi Metro,’ he said excitedly. ‘It would be an understatement to say we are all proud of him. We’re fortunate enough to have Mr Shrinivasan here to discuss the metro project in Hyderabad being awarded to VEMAYHTAS. Welcome to our studio, Mr Shrinivasan NR.’
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