by Sree Iyer
As always, it was the know-all, Boom-Boom Banerjee, who came to the rescue. He dug up a clause in the party’s constitution, which made it possible for the party to get rid of an incumbent chief. The working committee, which was the party’s highest decision-making body, was convened, and Ram was asked to attend the meeting. He got a whiff of the brewing conspiracy but was confident of sailing through. The anti-Ram gang lost no time in moving a resolution that sought his resignation in view of the “changed circumstances” and in order to “take the party to greater heights.” The resolution also placed on record appreciation for his “enormous contribution to the development of the Freedom Party.” Ram was furious. He wanted to speak but was told by the cabal that there was nothing left to be done except to quit. He walked out in a huff, but not before proclaiming clearly that he would not oblige them. Dipika had abstained from attending the meeting.
News had filtered out about the confrontation and the media had gathered outside the party headquarters. There was also a group of workers who began shouting slogans in support of Ram. On being told of the commotion, he stepped outside and spoke to his supporters, asking them to show restraint.
When he returned inside, he was shocked. In the few minutes of his absence, Ram found his chamber locked and his nameplate removed from the wall and placed on the floor. He was told that the working committee had decided to sack him from the post of president and appoint Dipika Madam in his place. He demanded to meet her but was told that she was busy in a series of meetings and would be unable to see him. Sensing no other option, he decided to go home, but found that his official car had been withdrawn as well. A party worker gave him a ride back home on his scooter. A few months later, Ram died of a cardiac arrest and a broken spirit.
Dipika took charge of the party at a time when it was in the opposition. The first task she undertook was to purge the party leadership of elements that were considered close to her ousted predecessor. In their place, she positioned her loyalists, among them being Maida Damodaran and Boom-Boom Banerjee. She then reached out to smaller opposition parties and soon enough, stitched alliances with them to take on the ruling combine. She realised that Ram’s sacking could have repercussions. One, it could jeopardize her party’s regime in Bihar, Ram’s home state. Two, it could antagonize the numerically strong Dalit community which had been her party’s vote-bank for decades. The first, she tackled by winning over smaller parties and shoring up the numbers for the government there. The second, she addressed by announcing the name of a Dalit leader as the Freedom Party’s choice for the country’s next president, the election for the president’s post due in a few months’ time.
The general elections had been announced as well and not many were confident of the Freedom Party coming to power for a second term. But the party surprised everyone by emerging as the single largest majority. It sought and got support from various regional outfits as well as the Left parties. The Freedom Party-led cabinet was sworn in and Dipika was hailed the architect of the victory.
Among the party’s winning candidates was Gulab Sharma. To quote an oft-quoted quip, Gulab was a modest man with much to be modest about. He had been a less than average student, and various efforts by his parents to enroll him into prestigious educational institutions had been in vain, since he never made the cut. But that hardly gave him sleepless nights. A privileged background and cloistered upbringing ensured he never had to struggle to make a career.
As a newly minted Member of Parliament, he found himself among a crowd of elected representatives who were far more experienced and also risen from the bottom, struggling their way up. They did not relate to each other. He would have actually been nondescript, but for one fact: He was Dipika’s son. He was asked to contest from a safe seat in the northern state of Uttar Pradesh, though he had no interest in politics. Having won easily, he entered parliament, where again his performance was below average. He did not ask questions or make any meaningful interventions. He attended occasionally, sitting among other young MPs who were also sons of big politicians.
When other parliamentarians would be busy transacting important business, he would take off on long holidays abroad. But the party chief was determined to make something of him, and realising that she would not relent, he began taking some interest in the party’s affairs. But naïve as he was with politics, Gulab often made statements that left the party red-faced and his mother would step in to manage the damage. He had all the perks that came with the family name, with even the senior most leaders bending to his will.
Within months of his stepping into politics, he was made the party’s national general secretary. By this time, the party had come to power in the centre. His mother started to delegate some of her responsibilities to him, partly because her health was a growing concern and mostly since she hoped he would learn through experience. Assembly elections were due in a clutch of important states and she asked him to take charge, right from the selection of candidates to managing dissent to leading the campaign.
Gulab proved to be out of depth in his new role. He also had a small attention span. When senior leaders met him to discuss critical issues, his mind would often be elsewhere, fidgeting with his smart phone or even feeding biscuits to his pet poodle. In the course of electioneering, he would raise issues that had no resonance with the public. The Freedom Party received a drubbing in all the states concerned. Instead of being around to boost the morale of the party cadre, he disappeared abroad for one of his vacations ‘for contemplation.’ Meanwhile, the party, goaded by its chief and his mother, rallied behind him and absolved him of all blame. In one voice, senior leaders claimed that the fault lay with the local leaders who had failed to exploit the momentum Gulab had provided to the party.
In fact, he was even promoted as vice president of the party. By then it was clear that Dipika was grooming him to take over the presidentship from her. The clamour to praise him grew even shriller. Prime Minister Dhillon offered to make him a minister, which he turned down saying that he wanted to remain free to work for the party. His critics ridiculed him for running away from responsibility.
Even as Gulab was struggling (in vain) to prove his leadership mettle, Dipika’s mind was on another challenging matter. The probe that the Prime Minister had got the Intelligence Bureau to initiate, could land her ‘favourite’ ministers in trouble. She had decided to cut the Prime Minister to size. Until now, she had chided him in private, but now a public reprimand was needed. And she had a handle to do so.
A few days ago, the cabinet had cleared an ordinance that proposed to disqualify sitting elected representatives in case they were charge sheeted for crimes that attracted a minimum jail term of two years. The cabinet noted that a court verdict took its time in coming and that the interim period was thoroughly exploited by the accused in the meantime. The ordinance would also address the growing public perception of the Dhillon government being soft on corruption. Some ministers of the cabinet had opposed the ordinance for being too harsh and not respecting the laid down caveat that a person was deemed innocent unless proved guilty by a court of law. They had taken their case to Dipika.
The Freedom Party chief was worried on another account as well. If the ordinance was promulgated with presidential assent, it would adversely impact some of the leaders of friendly parties whose support was essential to keep the central government intact. There was little she could do once the ordinance went to the President, so she proposed that the law be nipped before it reached that stage. She summoned the Prime Minister and suggested that he hold a press conference to dispel the negative impressions about the government, speaking nothing about the ordinance. She said that Gulab would also be present at the press conference to express the party’s solidarity with the government. After the Prime Minister left, she met with her son and briefed him on the strategy she had in mind.
She wanted to kill many birds with one stone. One: Show the Prime Minister his place. Two: Snuff out the ordinance. Three: Conta
in the Prime Minister’s new-found zeal to proceed with the probes against her cronies. Four: Establish her son firmly as the next-in-command.
Seated on the dais at the press conference were the Prime Minister, Gulab and a couple of senior leaders considered close to the party chief. The Prime Minister made the opening remarks, in which he sought to reject the impression that he presided over a non-functional regime or that he was a puppet in his party chief’s hands. He reeled out his government’s achievements, with Gulab heartily applauding. He did not forget to mention the ‘valuable’ contribution that the party chief had made in shaping the government’s policies, which benefitted the last man in the line.
A few desultory questions were asked. Just when the briefing was about to end, one journalist asked Gulab his views on the new ordinance the cabinet had cleared. The first-time MP fished into his kurta pocket and produced a sheet of paper — it turned out to be a copy of the said ordinance. He waved it at the media and said, “The ordinance is a piece of rubbish. It punishes people who have not been declared guilty. It takes away the rights of a representative elected by the people. It should go straight into the garbage can.” He tore it up and tossed the pieces in a trash can placed strategically close to the dais.
The media personnel were stunned. The Prime Minister had gone ashen faced. As the humiliation sunk in, he realised that he had fallen into a trap that the party chief had laid out for him. The decision of an ordinance lay exclusively with the cabinet, but Jagat had just been told even that was not for him or his government to decide. He stood up and left. A couple of days later, Gulab publicly expressed his regard for the Prime Minister and said that he had only expressed his opinion at the press conference. His intention was never to hurt the honourable Prime Minister of the country.
Everyone knew that the clarification was as fake as could get. The stage had been set for a larger confrontation.
CHAPTER 16.
When it rains, it pours
The Indian Premier League (IPL) is perhaps the world’s most successful cricket tournament. Managed by the cash-rich Board of Control for Cricket in India (BCCI), it features private teams that play against one another in the T-20 format. These teams consist of both Indian and foreign players. The tournament, held once a year across the country, draws big sponsors, with the teams owned mostly by celebrities and corporate houses. The IPL is never short of glamour, even if it’s short of quality cricket. Within a couple of years of its inception, the IPL became a household name.
Soon enough, it also turned notorious for a range of illegalities that tainted the game’s image and embroiled big players in controversies. Over the years, if the IPL has made many careers, it had also destroyed quite a few. But even the most respected players – the retired ones included - refrained from speaking out on the insider truths. Some simply chose to ignore these, while most were silenced with money. In the name of cricket, betting and spot-fixing are the real games that are played even today.
Despite the BCCI’s best efforts, the stink could no longer be contained. The Supreme Court had to step in and order drastic measures. The cricket board’s top decision-making panels were disbanded and a Committee of Administrators (CoA) headed by a former bureaucrat with impeccable credentials, was formed to oversee the board’s functioning. This was a direct fall-out of the IPL mess.
Meanwhile, the IPL itself was savaged by controversies. And not just related to betting and match-fixing, but also allegations that these rackets were being controlled by the D-Company, headed by a terrorist wanted in India and living in Pakistan, Dubai etc. The use of terror funds and hawala money in the IPL became the talking point. A few cricketers, including some high-profile ones, were ensnared in the betting net and sacked.
One well-known IPL team, captained by a legendary cricketer and former Indian captain, was banned for a couple of years from the tournament. The captain later admitted that some mistakes may have been made by the team owners but the players were not to be blamed.
It had all begun with the arrest of three players from this particular IPL team by the Delhi Police on charges of spot-fixing. Days later, a small-time film and television actor was nabbed for engaging in betting and alleged links with bookies. One of the bookies too was arrested; his operations were spread across India and Dubai. Then came the turn of a high-profile personality — a close relative of the BCCI chief and owner of one of the franchises. The cricket board chief had to quit in wake of this development and the IPL’s governing council set up a team to probe the scandal. The probe panel found no wrongdoing by the franchise, but a lower court soon dismissed the clean chit and the Supreme Court refused to reconsider the court’s order.
Much else transpired as the BCCI’s functioning came under a cloud. The apex court set up a panel headed by a retired judge to investigate. After the report was submitted, the court ordered a complete clean-up of the BCCI’s functioning — something that never fully happened. Meanwhile, another court-appointed committee gave its report, which led to the suspension of a few other IPL franchises.
Spot fixing had evolved to a new level in the meantime. Those who had done the fixing knew that a particular bowler would bowl a no-ball in, say in the fifth ball of the game. Or that a batsman would give up his wicket on a specific ball in an over. These players would be compensated handsomely for ‘cooperating.’ A network of bookies who worked in turn for big people like the D-Company don took care of the nitty gritties. Failure by the players to keep up their side of the commitment could attract serious consequences of the kind that none looked forward to.
Alongside this was the betting racket. A typical betting operation had four key elements — the handler, the bookie, the bookie’s immediate boss and the kingpin. The handler locates himself in what is called a ‘betting box.’ Through this facility, he is in constant touch with a number of bookies. The bookies, in turn, interact with players that have been identified before as having the potential to spot-fix. The handler discusses with the bookies the betting rates and also records conversations for further money transactions between them. The betting trends are often shared online through specially designed online applications. For instance, the Uttar Pradesh police had busted a racket that used an online application named Orange. Most of these bookies have connections abroad, especially Dubai and Pakistan, where the kingpin is situated. The deadly cocktail of betting and spot-fixing generates huge amounts of money.
This is a low cost, high return business. The operators need only a few computers, mobile phones (the burner types) and internet connectivity. Much of the business is also carried out on WhatsApp. The Andhra Pradesh police had stumbled upon this method, when four bookies were taken into custody. A WhatsApp group had been formed by some engineering students who had invested large sums of money into it. Those who wished to join the group were asked to cough up amounts ranging from Rs.5,000 to Rs.25,000. Once the money was invested, the bookies would give them passwords through which they could access their accounts and conduct the business. Elsewhere in Kolkata, seven men, who were conducting betting operations on a large scale from a residential colony, were held as well.
Given that the monies involved in betting and spot-fixing are not accounted for, most of it is usually black money; worse still, counterfeit currency. While there are no accurate figures of the amount of money involved in a game, conservative estimates by experts have put the number at least Rs.10,000 crores per match. Bookies don't keep their accounts in a centralised data base. The details of bets are entered in ledgers and account books that are not available to anyone else.
While there is a fixed minimum amount that one can take bets for, there is no upper limit. Big-time bookies take bets worth crores of rupees. You can bet Rs.10 khoka (Rs.1 crore being equivalent to one khoka) or even 100 khoka; it depends on your paying capacity, and on whether the bookie can handle that amount. If the bookie cannot handle a Rs.100 crores bet, you can divide the betting money with other bookies.
Over t
he years, a method evolved to the madness. There are two ways to bet in a cricket match. The first is to bet on the outcome of the match itself, where a bookie bets money on his team. The other is based on the outcome of each set of six overs. For example, one can bet on 60 or 80 runs being scored in the next six overs. The arrest of a leading pace bowler in connection with the six-over spot fixing had created quite the scandal.
The betting game is a proper industry with its own rules. A bookie will not take bets from an unknown person. People are taken in only through proper referrals. The bookie makes his profit from those who lose money placing the bets. And when a particular over is fixed, either from the batsman’s or the bowler’s end, the ordinary betting man loses money, while the network, which is part of the fixing, makes windfall gains.
The IPL scandal had attracted Mike’s attention, who was a cricket-lover but disdainful of the T-20 format. He was pretty vocal about his views and often said that the 20-20 overs game was an insult to test cricket legends Sunil Gavaskar, Geoffrey Boycott, Clive Lloyd, Vivian Richards, B S Bedi, E A S Prasanna, Ian Chappell or Andy Roberts.
It was not the flamboyance of the IPL that had attracted his attention though, but a phone call from the Commissioner of Delhi Police. The police chief told him that a huge cache of currency had been seized from a hawala operator and nearly 50% of it had been fake notes. The hawala agent spilled all beans after he received a couple of doses from the police interrogators. He had told them of his links with the betting-spot fixing racket and added that part of the money recovered was meant to reconcile payments to various persons connected with the game — cricketers, cricket administrators, bookies, handlers, franchises etc.
By then, Mike’s crack team had already made considerable progress in drawing connections between drug money, terror funds and fake currency. The team had also managed to trace a few links to powerful people in the government and the administration. The latest revelations fitted neatly into the overall picture and Mike quickly updated his team on the IPL angle.