by Sree Iyer
During these gloomy times, she often consulted her younger sister who was as connected to politics as Einstein was to archaeology. Dipika wanted an outsider’s opinion and her sister obliged with scathing comments on the state of affairs in the party. Dipika’s sister was married to a businessman, Frederick Saldanha — Rico for short. A fitness freak, Rico never missed a day at gym, pumping iron for two hours at a stretch.
Besides a well-toned body rippling with bulging muscles, he possessed a sharp mind for business deals that fetched effortless income. In the years of the Freedom Party’s rule, he had expanded his real estate business by leaps and bounds. Beginning with a seed capital of just Rs.10 lakhs, his firm was now worth Rs.500 crores. He made his money primarily through the sale and purchase of land, leaving the construction part to his partners. He was famous for his hot temper that he often lost in public. Once when he was asked about his property deals, he snapped at the enquiring journalist: “Stop it, you &*-!” He was also known for his open threats and objectionable language.
Rico had tied up with a prominent builder to acquire land in Haryana, which in those days had a Freedom Party government. He coerced farmers to sell theirs at a premium price that was slightly more than the government rate. When some farmers resisted the bid, the government obligingly stepped in and initiated a process to acquire the land under provisions of the local land law, at government rates, ostensibly for the larger public good. Caught between the devil and the deep sea, the reluctant farmers opted for the lesser evil and sold their fertile land to Rico. The state government thereafter cancelled its acquisition process.
But this was only the first stage of the conspiracy. The next step was the conversion of the agricultural land for commercial use. The government once again obliged wholeheartedly. It provided the land use change permission at express speed — in this case, the certification came in less than 48 hours. Rico had turned an expert at utilising power to good measure and the fact that he was the party president’s brother-in-law obviously helped. With the conversion certificate in hand, Rico sold the plots to the builder, making a tidy profit in the process. He had bought the vast tracts of land for less than Rs.7 crores and sold to his partner for over Rs.40 crores.
The builder was happy too. The sale of land had resulted in a giddy hike of real estate prices in the region. As a result, other realty developers started to up their prices too and jumped into the act. This helped the developers to, in turn, sell their properties to homebuyers and retail-owners (shopping malls and other commercial businesses) at rates that were much higher than from just a few months before.
This was not the only dubious deal Rico was involved in. His firm had acquired prime property running into nearly 80 hectares in a city of Rajasthan for less than Rs.75 lakhs. How he managed to acquire it for such a pittance remained a mystery. He sold the property to a land and financial leasing company for ten times that price and pocketed the huge profit.
Even during the Freedom Party’s rule, Rico’s sky-rocketing fortunes had attracted the attention of the investigation agencies. Several farmers had complained of having been short-changed and coerced into selling their land to him. There was no transparency on the profits he had gained through his various buy-sell deeds. The Enforcement Directorate (ED) suspected him of money laundering but could not make any headway during the party’s reign.
When the then opposition, People’s Voice, had launched a tirade against the government and its party’s first family, accusing them of unduly shielding Rico, the Dhillon government had half-heartedly moved to stem the allegation. ED officials summoned him for questioning on a number of occasions, and the Haryana government set up an inquiry panel to probe Rico’s land deals. The ED seemed satisfied by his answers and did not initiate any action thereafter. However, the Haryana panel happened to be headed by an upright senior bureaucrat who found discrepancies and suggested stern action. Action was promptly taken, but not against Rico. The bureaucrat was summarily transferred to some nondescript town.
Having become a multimillionaire in double quick time, Rico had set his sights on another conquest — politics. He had begun to throw hints that if the party chief wished, he was willing to not just enter politics but also contest elections. This had led to a cacophony of demands among the family’s sycophants for his induction. Dipika had resisted the pressure so far, but now she needed someone from within that she could rely upon. Her sister had firmly ruled herself out of politics. She was happy running a chain of boutiques that did extremely well and had a client base that cut across party affiliations. She drew Dipika’s attention to Rico’s interest in politics and suggested that he could be tested.
Dipika had no problems with her brother-in-law. After all, she had played a role behind the curtains in ensuring his financial prosperity, which was nothing short of a miracle in itself. Her problem was the baggage that he would be coming with. The opposition had found in him a handy weapon to attack the party and the family with. It was one thing to deal with charges of corruption against senior party leaders such as Maida, who could be dispensed with, but having to counter accusations against a family member active in politics, was quite another. Until now, she had shrugged off the allegations on the ground that Rico was a private citizen, having nothing to do with the party, and that he was being used as fodder to target her personally. Party spokespersons were directed to drive home this point on TV debates.
Despite Dipika’s reluctance, her sister persisted, pointing out that she needed a reliable hand in these trying times. Besides, once the party returned to power (which, she insisted, was a done deal after the forthcoming elections), these troublesome issues could be effectively taken care of. She added that the more the new government went after him, the more public sympathy it would fetch for Dipika and the party, provided the party chief played her cards well.
The Freedom Party’s headquarters was decorated with flowers, with its main entrance displaying a new big poster, featuring party president Dipika Sharma and her brother-in-law, Frederick Saldanha. Rico was being referred to as a dynamic and successful individual now taking the plunge into politics with an aim to strengthen the Freedom Party. Inside the party office, the main meeting room had been converted into a mini auditorium, with about a thousand party workers seated on brightly coloured plastic chairs. A dais had been raised, which would seat the party president, a couple of senior party functionaries and the man of the moment, Rico. Former Prime Minister Jagat Dhillon was given a front row seat below. Dipika had not forgotten his betrayal.
A burst of applause broke out as Dipika entered the room, with Rico and the others in her wake. A short speech was delivered by the senior-most functionary, an 80-something treasurer of the party, whose hunched back made it difficult for him to walk. Rico was then given the party membership card, after which Dipika welcomed him into her second ‘family’ and expressed confidence that he would live up to the high expectations they had of him. Dressed in a starched white kurta and pyjama, Rico solemnly let it be known that he was prepared to give up his swanky life for the party’s sake. There was much clapping thereafter and the ceremony concluded. However, some media reporters insisted on Rico taking a few questions.
Dipika was wary. She did not want the occasion to be ruined. Now that her brother-in-law was a party member, he would have to be extra careful with what he said. But rejecting the media’s request could adversely impact the reportage of the occasion. She whispered a few words to Rico, who gamely announced that he would entertain a few questions, “however hard-hitting. I have nothing to hide or be ashamed of.” The press got nothing of news value from him. He maintained a vague innocence, like always, over controversies connected to him.
His parting shot made the headlines for a day, though: “If my rivals cannot prove their allegations, they should shut up.”
In the next 48 hours, the Freedom Party’s working committee met and later announced that “our leader, Frederick Saldanha, has been appointed as the nat
ional general secretary of the party” and that he would “soon” contest the Lok Sabha elections. Most political observers and the media speculated that he would be fielded from one of the safe constituencies in the northern states. They were taken by surprise when a party spokesman, addressing the media a few days later, shared that a sitting Member of Parliament representing a Lok Sabha constituency in the southern state of Kerala, would be quitting and vacating his seat for Rico to contest from. It so happened that this particular constituency had a considerable voter base of the Christian community. Kerala was also one of the very few states where the Freedom Party still ruled.
It was by no means a baptism by fire for Rico, though. Not surprisingly, he won with a comfortable margin, with the principal opposition, the Left combine, being only a half-hearted opponent.
The recent developments had sent a clear message within the party and outside that in the new pecking order, Rico came second only to the party president. It would not be long before he would have full control over who could access the party chief. Even senior leaders would have to go through him.
In the meantime, Rico continued to lift weights and also transact questionable land deals.
CHAPTER 35.
Trouble for the Ultimate Networker
Prime Minister Jadeja had just seen off a Dutch business delegation that was in Delhi to meet with him and explore the possibility of establishing giant power windmills in India. Renewable and clean energy was one of the Prime Minister’s pet projects. He had launched a massive government scheme to provide LPG cylinders to rural Indian households in a passionate attempt to free them from toxic fumes of firewood. Nearly 70 million households had already benefitted from it and the government had scaled up the target to an additional 20 million for the next four months.
But the country was still dependent on coal to fuel its power plants. Nearly 70% of India’s power needs was met by coal. He wanted to significantly reduce this number and was very keen on for exploring further possibilities with nuclear and wind energy.
The Dutch were masters of wind energy technology. According to a Global Windmill Report, the Netherlands had generated 4,341 megawatts energy through wind power, and this was only set to increase in the years to come. In contrast, wind power accounted for a little under 10% of the installed power generation capacity in India and even less of the actual power generated. States like Tamil Nadu, Gujarat and Maharashtra had made some strides forward, but far more needed to be done. To take things ahead, the Dutch delegation was scheduled to meet the Union Minister for Renewable Energy, who had already been briefed by the Prime Minister.
His next meeting was with the Finance Minister. PP saw the delegation exit the Prime Minister’s office and spotted a couple of businessmen whom he had met earlier. They told him of the meeting when they greeted him. The Finance Minister was miffed at having been kept out of the loop, as he walked into the Prime Minister’s study. Hasmukh greeted him warmly and updated him on the meeting that he just concluded. “I would have spoken to you about it later, once some progress had been made between the Dutch guys and the energy ministry,” he said by way of explanation, as if reading the minister’s thoughts.
PP had no idea about the agenda of this meeting with the Prime Minister. Hasmukh came straight to the point, as he always did. “Prakash, where are we with the ED’s investigations on Damodaran, Rico and Dalpat Dalvi?” The Enforcement Directorate, as part of the Department of Revenue, came under the jurisdiction of the Finance Ministry. PP muttered something to the effect that the cases were complex, and the agency needed time to investigate deeper.
“I understand,” the Prime Minister said, “but there has been little progress, and we are nearing the end of our term.”
PP remained silent. Hasmukh continued, “A crackdown on corruption, as you will agree, was one of our chief election planks. People voted us to power on these promises.”
The Finance Minister did not offer any response yet. Hasmukh continued: “PP, you know that people trust me and expect me to deliver. We cannot let them down. You cannot let me down. I have faith in you.” It didn’t sound like he had much faith, though.
PP finally found his voice. “Hasmukh, I will ask the Enforcement Directorate to speed up the probe.” He addressed the Prime Minister by first name when the two were by themselves; a rare liberty that PP enjoyed.
“Good. We need something to show to the people. An arrest or two would be nice, provided, of course, all legal procedures are duly followed. It’s not as if we are trying to fix these people. They are tainted and the inquiries had begun even during the earlier government’s tenure.”
The Prime Minister was a shrewd observer of people and immediately noticed PP’s discomfort. “Is something bothering you that I should know?” PP hastily assured him that all was fine and that he would get cracking. The meeting was over.
As PP closed the door behind him, Hasmukh used the intercom and asked his principal secretary to drop in. He told the senior former bureaucrat to call the ED chief in for a meeting at four that evening.
He had other matters to attend to before that, one of them being placating an especially troublesome ally in a politically important state. This regional party in the alliance had a newspaper it brought out. The editorials appearing in it had of late been critical of the Prime Minister’s handling of the Ayodhya Ram temple issue. The publication was baying for the immediate construction of the temple at the disputed site, which was just not possible since the Supreme Court had not yet pronounced verdict on the dispute. Normally, he would have delegated the resolution of the issue to the party president, Kapil. But the alliance party’s chief had insisted on the Prime Minister meeting a delegation of his party and see the memorandum that reflected their stand.
An eight-member delegation walked in at the appointed hour. Hasmukh spent over 20 minutes with them. The official picture released by the government showed them all cordial and smiling broadly. That was for the camera, of course. In truth, the Prime Minister had given them a dressing down, lecturing them to behave as responsible leaders. He pointed out that they were doing the greatest disservice to the cause of the temple by raising the pitch at a time when a resolution was just around the corner. He added that if the situation demanded, the government would not hesitate to intervene for the sake of the millions of Hindus in the country. The last bit appeared to have pacified the delegation, though they had expected more.
The Prime Minister had made up his mind to ask the party chief to take a tough stand against this particular ally, and if necessary, contest the forthcoming state elections without them. He was confident, as was his state leadership, that the People’s Voice party could get a majority on its own. Nonetheless, Hasmukh did not want to snap the alliance, because it made for bad optics. Unlike his predecessor, Prime Minister Jadeja was a master of brand image management.
The Enforcement Directorate chief walked in precisely at 4 PM. He had a singularly nondescript personality and could have easily passed off as the next door water purifier salesman. Almost fully greyed and with a generous girth at the hips, he always carried a leather bag slung over his shoulder. It looked like a secret satchel that the media sometimes informally speculated about. In a ‘sensational’ breaking news item on a popular Hindi news channel, the contents of the bag were finally revealed. The ED chief had a penchant for crime thrillers and survived on a staple diet of Daniel Silva and Lee Child. He also swore by the genius of Arthur Conan Doyle and Agatha Christie and considered P D James an “intellectual” author. Most often, he drew out one of these to read from his bag while being driven to work or back home.
Having wished the Prime Minister a very good evening, he heaved himself into one of the visitor chairs, letting out a sigh, which seemed more like the final burst of a steam engine at the end of its journey. Hasmukh smiled to himself. For many reasons, he liked the man. Not least because the ED honcho, contrary to his physical appearance, had a sharp mind and a hound-like obsessio
n to dig out the last bit of dirt, once he smelled blood.
On a couple of previous occasions, the Prime Minister had suggested that he take up yoga. It was perhaps the only suggestion coming from the Prime Minister that the director of ED politely declined, citing various reasons — all of them either concocted or implausible.
Today was not the time for small talk, though. The Prime Minister had graver issues to discuss. Hasmukh asked him about the progress in the politically sensitive cases and told him that he wanted action soon. He added that the Finance Minister had been spoken to, and if there was any further trouble, the ED chief was to get in touch directly with the Prime Minister’s Office.
Hours later, while the ED chief was driven back to his residence, he did not bury his head in a book, but mused over his conversation with the Hasmukh. He had detected in the Prime Minister a trace of impatience and dissatisfaction over the Finance Minister’s functioning on the matter. Instinctively, he knew that a storm was brewing, and it would break out soon.
Meanwhile, PP was already home, earlier than usual. Having coddled his pet Doberman and cooed to his little granddaughter, the Finance Minister retired to his study, and was locked in for hours as always. His wife often joked with him saying that he was so busy that if she were to have an affair, he wouldn’t ever know. He laughed every time she said it. At home too, he appeared very much the composed leader he was in public. But his family guessed (often rightly), that something was gnawing at him, and left him alone.
The first call PP made was to his predecessor, Maida Damodaran. “Look, Maida, the Prime Minister has given clear instructions that cases against the likes of you ought to be fast-tracked. So, beware.”