The old man smiled and nodded. Arvind began with his questions.
‘First off, what do you make of VEMAYHTAS being awarded this contract?’
Shrinivasan leaned forward, his elbows on the edge of the desk, his fingers together. ‘As I see it, VEMAYHTAS has no prior experience of building any metro rail projects. Their consortium consist of Thai Rail. We all know how credible that sounds. To top that, now the VEMAYHTAS consortium is offering over 30,300 crore rupees to the state government for giving them an opportunity to build the 71 km metro project in the city. This in itself makes me feel there are other motives behind the project. But will the government step up and probe into why this ludicrous offer was accepted in the first place?’
Arvind looked on, waiting for his guest to finish. Then he began. ‘I know, not many people understand why VEMAYHTAS bid for this huge amount. But then, it’s the government that will benefit from this deal.’
Shrinivasan smiled. ‘Let’s not forget that the reckless bid of VEMAYHTAS has a self-serving aspect to it as well. VEMAYHTAS is believed to be looking at expanding the project on two routes, not just to make its bid viable but also to get more value for its properties by providing connectivity. Sathyamev, the parent company of VEMAYHTAS, owns thousands of acres on the city’s outskirts. This land can be developed into mega residential and commercial ventures.’
‘But Sathyamev’s share prices are down. Last I checked, investors are not happy with Mr Rana Rajput’s decision to invest in the metro project. In the USA, where the company is listed as well, the stock market has rejected their idea. What do you make of that?’
Shrinivasan smiled again. ‘They have to reject this idea. Look, two wrongs do not make one right. If one wrong is committed, then another wrong can never cancel it out.’
On 21 July 2008, the security camera feeds at the famous Ship Hotel at Marina Bay in Singapore showed a man in a black shirt and grey sports coat with a suitcase walk into the coffee shop. The same person was later seen having a lively conversation with a man already seated in the crowded shop. For a few minutes the two chatted, and when the man in the grey sports coat walked out of the room, he had left behind his suitcase.
The man in the grey sports coat and the one seated in the coffee shop were not instantly identifiable, but it seemed obvious – even to those watching the live security camera feeds – that the two had a very different kind of business meeting.
Exactly five hours after that meeting in Singapore, Arvind Kumar heard a discreet beep announcing an incoming fax message at his NewsReview TV studio cabin. He walked over to the desk and drew out the copy, his eyes scanning the page.
It was a press release from the World Bank International bureau disclosing the debarment of Sathyamev from all its projects.
Sathyamev Computers Debarred for EIGHT Years by World Bank International
21 July 2008, Singapore – World Bank International has terminated existing contracts and debarred Sathyamev Computers, one of India’s largest software companies, for eight years. Following a forensic analysis, bank investigators discovered that one or more contractors from Sathyamev Computer Services had covertly installed spyware on workstations inside the bank’s headquarters. The bank also believes that the firm is engaged in providing improper benefits to bank staff and is involved in a series of cyber break-ins to steal sensitive information.
Arvind put on his jacket and punched an intercom number. ‘Hey, listen. I just received a fax from the World Bank International. Can you please check if it’s genuine? If it’s true, we are breaking this story. Ask our team to be prepared for a special session,’ he said over the phone before rushing out of his studio.
Soon Arvind Kumar was back at the anchor’s desk gazing at the camera when the red light flashed on. He began speaking: ‘The biggest news of the day is coming from Singapore. If you thought the VEMAYHTAS investment of 30,300 crores was bad enough news for Sathyamev, you couldn’t be more wrong. Today, World Bank International has issued a press release stating that it has terminated Sathyamev Computers’ existing contract worth 500 million and debarred it for eight years.
‘In the last two hours, Sathyamev’s stock price on the New York stock exchange has lost 47 per cent. Meanwhile, our source tells us that the registrar of companies will initiate a probe into Sathyamev’s investment in VEMAYHTAS.’
TWENTY-ONE
22 July 2008
T
he next day, just after 8.30 in the morning, Rana sat with his legs stretched out in front, his head leaning back against the sofa. He was in the waiting room of the chief minster’s chamber, alone. The dramatic fall of Sathyamev’s share prices in the international stock market – with fear of banks placing increasing demands on him to cover margin calls on his pledged stock – had forced his unexpected visit.
Rana sat there, his gaze directed to the ceiling, when a young staffer dressed in a blue half-sleeve apron and matching slacks approached him. He held a tray with a cup of steaming hot coffee on it. As he pushed aside the newspapers on the coffee table – all of which had Rana’s photograph on the front page – the man couldn’t hide his excitement.
‘Sir, I saw you in the news yesterday,’ he said. ‘You looked very real on TV as well.’
Rana sat there, lost in his own incoherent world. ‘When will Jagjivan – when is he coming? Jagjivan?’ he asked wearily.
‘They are all looking very busy.’
‘They? You mean, the CM?’
‘No, sir. We don’t have access to the CM, sir. Jagjivan, sir, only makes all the arrangements. Right now, he is with some foreigners – some delegation?’
‘Just inform Jagjivan that I want to meet the chief minister, urgently.’
‘Sure sir,’ he said.
As the man left, Rana stared at the portrait of the chief minister that hung over the entrance to his office. The crooked smile and intense stare were in sharp contrast to Rana’s own failing composure.
A few minutes later when Jagjivan appeared from the same doorway, Rana stood up and came forward to shake hands.
‘Thank god you came. I have been up all night making frantic calls,’ Rana said.
‘Yeah, I know, the news is very disturbing. I’m sorry I couldn’t take your calls yesterday. You know how it is with the election season. At night I have to power-off my phone.’
‘Yeah, I know.’
‘Tell me, what brings you here so unexpectedly?’
‘I think you know. We paid the balance of the money for the metro project, but now there’s a cash-flow problem. The stock market is collapsing. Today, when the market opens, banks will start demanding money to cover margin calls on my pledged shares. There’s no way I can stop this crisis from deepening any further. There’s only one option …’
‘What can we do, tell me?’
‘I can’t borrow from the market or the banks. There’s no time available. My only hope is the chief minster. He can help me get corporate loans or guarantees against the metro deal. Otherwise, I can’t cover these impending margin calls. Remember, you said the state will guarantee to pay back the money that was invested in the metro.’
‘Yes, I remember that. But we offered you close to 5,000 crores for the metro project. But you decided to do the opposite.’
‘Let’s not get into that discussion now. I don’t have time. All I have is real estate. My money is all tied up in real estate, not so much in cash. I also have to pay salaries for this month –’
‘Look Rana, we all know how difficult the market is these days. Since yesterday it has turned upside down. The chief minster would help if he were in a position to do so. But with elections round the corner, I don’t think –’
‘At least, can I meet the chief minster? I have invested in his son’s news channel. Today it’s worth thousands of crores. I invested in his campaign. He won the elections. I have been –’
‘The CM can’t talk now. There’s a crisis meeting going on with the high command in Delhi.’
<
br /> ‘Meeting with the high command? What? About me?’
‘The chief minster is planning to build a five-star tourist destination on the hill site of Tirumala. If you have money to invest, you are welcome. Otherwise, it’s useless to wait. You know how it is.’
‘I have real estate I could offer as collateral. It’s worth every rupee and more,’ Rana pleaded. ‘I need some backing now.’
‘I’m sorry, Rana. Really, truly sorry, but there isn’t anything we can do for you any more.’
Jagjivan was the first to look at Rana with pity in his eyes and he would not be the last.
Rana lowered his head and stared at the ground uncertainly.
TWENTY-TWO
22 July 2008
A
t 10.00 a.m. on 22 July 2008, Rana paced the length of his office, his hands clasped behind his back. Then he stood near the window for a while, quietly observing the security man with a gun guarding the premises … He slowly walked back to his computer. A blank word processor stared back at him from the screen.
Rana was about to write an e-mail that would ruin his life forever. He had been, by nature, illogical. But today his decision to write an e-mail to the board members and stock exchange officials confessing his misjudgements was an attempt at playing the victim to generate sympathy. His motive was to salvage whatever little he could from the catastrophic losses incurred due to his premature decisions.
‘Dear Board Members,’ he began, ‘it is with deep regret, and tremendous burden that I am writing this message –’
Rana went on to list his misjudgements, ranging from his investment in VEMAYHTAS to non-existent cash in Sathyamev’s account, all to save Sathyamev from sinking further or being taken over by the competitors. He went on to give other silly details that made for a good five-page, scandalous read.
‘It was like riding a tiger,’ Rana wrote in a poetic frenzy, ‘without any hope of being rescued. I’ll now subject myself to the law of the land.’
The only story he left out of his confession was his fear of getting mauled by the tiger called Kanu, his nephew.
At 10.45 a.m. that day, the chairman of SEBBI received an e-mail from Rana Rajput’s official e-mail ID. After reading it, he couldn’t believe his eyes. It had to be a fake. He immediately summoned his assistant to check the e-mail’s authenticity.
At 10.50 a.m. the same day, a thin crowd gathered around Kiran Shah’s desk at the Afternoon Times office. The moving graph on his monitor resembled the flight path of an airplane on a suicide mission. The green line of the flight path continued sliding unabated.
‘The market is baked,’ Mayank shouted.
‘Bloody hell, Sathyamev is a fraud company. I always told you guys, the stock market is only for the scammers,’ Suhail gleefully added.
At 11.00 a.m. the same day, a renowned news anchor reporting live from his studio couldn’t catch his breath. The ever-smiling and eternally optimistic advisor on the channel had never imagined that a company the size of Sathyamev would one day make news for all the wrong reasons. He looked like he had been punched in his belly and forced to report the story that very instant. ‘We are too shocked to digest the news. Let me read out Rana’s confession, again, so that we can make sense of it. The first big revelation from Rana’s e-mail is that Sathyamev’s cash is gone. The second big revelation is, and I quote, “Sathyamev’s accounts are fictitious.” And the third –’
By the time the anchor finished reporting the story, he almost looked constipated. ‘I’ll never in my life understand how any promoter could sink his own ship,’ he signed off.
Almost at the same time, Arvind Kumar was in his element discussing the downfall of Sathyamev with his expert panel on NewsReview TV.
At 11.15 a.m. panic had gripped Dalal Street. How could Rana ever do this to his own company? If the content of the e-mail is true, will this spell doom for Sathyamev’s investors? What about thousands of employees – who will recruit those poor souls? But the most important question everyone seemed to be asking was: Why did Rana confess?
Thousands of miles away in Singapore, Kanu was on the phone discussing his next clandestine mission. The clock showed 1.50 p.m.
‘Yes, that’s perfect. Sathyamev’s stock will slide further. Wait for an hour or so till the stock dips below twenty. Then it’s all ours for the taking. Remember, twenty is the magic number. We go in, we buy as much as we can.’ Kanu then paused to listen. ‘Yeah, twenty because that’s where my dad left this company. Yes, you are right. It’s all happening now!’
Kanu smiled, then stood up from the comfort of his sofa and walked a little distance to turn off the television screaming news of Rana’s confession.
‘You’re coming?’ he asked.
Darshu looked confused. ‘Where? And why did you turn it off? That’s news about –’
‘C’mon, that’s news you already know.’
‘C’mon don’t be so arrogant!’
‘You coming?’
‘Where?’
‘I want to send a photo of us to my mom.’
‘How sweet! You didn’t tell me about that – where are we going?’
‘To a studio. Before that we have to go to a small temple that sells special items. We’ve to collect a few props from there.’
‘Props?’
Inside the studio, Darshu was decorated with pearls and flowers and given an emerald-green lehenga choli to wear to go with her red dupatta. Kanu was dressed in a gold-embroidered red jacket, a light-blue dhoti and a golden kamarbandh. He sported a colourful garland around his neck, a flute in his hands and a peacock feather in his crown.
The couple posed for the camera, smiling, as the photographer said, ‘Say cheese.’
The man fired the camera and an image of Radha-Krishna emerged from the instant photo camera: it was a sight to behold.
Kanu looked at the photo and turned to his companion. ‘Didn’t I tell you I am Kanha? Here’s the proof!’
Acknowledgements
I
am grateful to my brother, Shailesh Singh, and bhabi, Vasanthi Singh, for their constant assistance, encouragement and guidance, without which this book would not have been possible.
I must also thank my nephew, Parth Singh, my sister, Sareeta, and brother-in-law, Prakaash Singh, for their support.
I am lucky to have friends who stood by me in my hour of need. Sincere thanks to: Raju Parmar, Vinaynath N., Murali, Sanjay Kumar, Ravikanth M.R., Dilsad Gani, Janantik Shukla, Jose Kottanani, and many others. I am also thankful to Sudhir Chacha, Dr Nishindra Kinjalk and Navin Singh for their words of encouragement during my stay in Muzaffarpur.
Somak Ghoshal, Managing Editor at HarperCollins, edited the manuscript; I am grateful for his assistance.
I am indebted to Shivani Vellanki, Mrs Suman Malik and Dr R.K. Malik for reviewing the manuscript and providing invaluable feedback.
And finally, I owe my greatest debt to Mom and Dad for their blessings and encouragement.
About the Book
A runaway kid from the most powerful family in Hyderabad, Kanu is a 22-year-old hacker. His mission in life is to destroy his uncle, Rana, and take control of Sathyamev Computers, a billion-dollar company originally started by his father.
Together with the beautiful Darshu, a journalist crusading against corruption, Kanu sets out to expose a mega financial scam at Sathyamev.
His only weapon: ingenious computing skills.
About the Author
Nikhilkumar Singh is a film-maker and communications consultant specializing in sustainable agriculture initiatives. He studied at the Nutan Vidya Mandir, Fort Songadh, Surat, and holds a Master’s degree in Communication Studies from Maharaja Sayajirao University, Vadodara. He lives in Bengaluru, Muzaffarpur and Hyderabad (one place at a time) and can be contacted at [email protected].
TALK TO US
Join the conversation on Twitter
http://twitter.com/HarperCollinsIN
Like us on Facebook to
find and share posts about our books with your friends
http://www.facebook.com/HarperCollinsIndia
Follow our photo stories on Instagram
http://instagram.com/harpercollinsindia/
Get fun pictures, quotes and more about our books on Tumblr
http://www.tumblr.com/blog/harpercollinsindia
First published in India in 2016 by Harper Black
An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers
Copyright © Nikhilkumar Singh 2016
P-ISBN: 978-93-5029-682-0
Epub Edition © June 2016 ISBN: 978-93-5029-693-6
2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1
Nikhilkumar Singh asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction and all characters and incidents described in this book are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under The Copyright Act, 1957. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers India.
Cover design: HarperCollins Publishers India
Cover image: iStock
www.harpercollins.co.in
HarperCollins Publishers
A-75, Sector 57, Noida, Uttar Pradesh 201301, India
Digital God Page 17