The Hindu Business Line : Blue-eyed boy yesterday, a hardcore villain today?

STORY so far: I banish fears of failure and finish shopping quickly to do an important task — that of meeting Chandru's family. Accountants are normally known to be lacking in heart, but I could be an exception because, as the taxi heads to the airport, I fight tears after having seen the surge of sentiment in Chandru's house. Well, there are things to do...

Episode 18

Vikky reminded me, "Swatiji, did you call the boss?" And handed me the mobile, pulling it from the car charger. "I almost forgot," I said, "in the rush of things."

After the second ring, the boss picked up the call. "You should be on your way to the airport?"

"You are omnipresent?" I asked in half-jest.

"No," he laughed. "I could hear the usual noises of Kathipara junction. Perhaps the windows are open."

"I got the ticket, sir," I said. "About an hour ago. Sorry I didn't call you immediately. I had gone to visit Chandru's family members."

"That's thoughtful of you," he said. "I knew you would do so. I'm sure their pain would have reduced."

"But, sir," I said, "Mrs Chandru was angry that you pushed Chandru instead of going to the Bank yourself."

"That's quite natural," he replied. "In fact, I myself was surprised when I came to know that Chandru had gone to Jakarta. I had groomed him for keeping my accounts clean, and compliant, which meant he had to spend more time with regulations and standards, and be a stickler to details. I would never waste him for a collection job, and much less for debugging a software."

"Boss," I interrupted, "you had told me when you called me at Park that you had sent him."

"Yes, I remember," he said, "There's more to the story, which is why I am asking Gupta to meet you at the airport lounge."

"GM Production?" I asked, to be sure.

"Yes," the boss said. "Call me again before you board the flight. I'll update you on what I have got from the CII, Nasscom and the Ministry."

"Right, sir," I said, ending the conversation more puzzled than I was already, and the car was pulling into a parking slot.

"There is a friend of mine from Ludhiana," Vikky told me, as we were carting the baggage through the portico. "His parents and mine fled Pakistan in 1947 when one of the worst bloodsheds took place in the name of partition."

"Lucky we were not born then," I said, half in jest.

"When fanatics attacked his house," Vikky said with glowing eyes, "my dad could manage to smuggle everybody from there to our house. Except my friend's dad, who was all along barricading the door against hooligan onslaught. How I wish I were born then, so I could have helped my dad!"

"Where's your friend now?"

"He'll meet you in Jakarta," Vikky said. "His name is Gani and he drives a Nissan taxi."

"Thanks," I said. "Down south, we have never had the fiery communal problems such as what your people had gone through. Which also accounts for the general insensitivity we have towards human problems."

"There comes Gupta," Vikky pointed to the production chief.

"Hi, sardar," Gupta hailed, "How did you spot me?"

"Your chief had told me," Vikky replied, "that you would be looking down-to-earth in spite of a French beard. Let me fetch coffee for both of you, while you talk."

"Swati," Gupta said, sitting by my side. "Boss wanted me to tell you to be careful with Govind."

"I thought he was the blue-eyed boy of the top man," I said, perplexed.

"Till recently, yes," Gupta said. "But in the changed circumstances, everything is going against Govind."

"Such as?"

"Govind was to have gone to Bank Gartha Aha," Gupta unfolded the story. "Because he is always keen not to miss any foreign assignment. Without boss's knowledge, he had sent Chandru there. When boss called you first, he didn't want to bother you with all details, because you would have immediately tried to get the truth from Tarun and so on."

"Why should Govind push Chandru into the lion's den?" I asked naively.

"Because, he had anticipated problems," Gupta explained. "Though, in all fairness, he shouldn't have put another man in jeopardy. More mysteriously, he has not been answering calls right from the time the news broke out a few hours ago. There have been electronic withdrawals from our bank account, over the last 48 hours, and the boss is in the dark about who put them through. As if to cap everything, a telephone call that hit the company PABX today evening, asking for Govind, was traced by the Mumbai cops to Sooty Jackal, now in Imphal."

"So what do we do?" I asked, in plain confusion.

"Listen, Swati," Gupta said calmly, "I am working closely with the Indian embassy there to secure the release of Chandru. We have hired Globe Detective to keep tab on Govind's movements."

"What would be my job," I queried, seriously. "To spy on somebody there?"

"Ha, ha," he laughed, pulling out his digital diary. "Take things easy. Carry your roaming mobile all the time. Eat well, sleep well, and beware of strangers. Note down this address of my classmate of IIM(A). He's Karan, now working for the Indonesian Government, as economic adviser."

A thought crossed my mind whether I should ask Vikky to drive me back to my abode. I could return to my familiar routine of music, microwave and money-making, in that order, instead of getting deeper and deeper into a whirlpool of intrigue, where what seemed to be true was not and each new path lead to a mesh of more intersections.

But the PA system was announcing: "Check in for Flight AI 475... "

(To be continued)

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