The Hindu Business Line : On the job in Jakarta

STORY so far: Often we blame others for our woes, but in retrospect it might appear that we could well have avoided most of the problems if only we had done our homework properly. There could be more truth behind the saying, `haste makes waste' than we appreciate, but in a world that puts premium on speed, there is often a chance that objectives get clouded by near-term goals. Yet, I am happy that my old friend Vaishu is able to shake off her worries to make a new start. Elsewhere, Govind and Tarun get slowly sucked into the quagmire of conspiracy they themselves had started.

Episode 21

Travelling eastward, I had lost some precious time, and I remembered how, if one were to apply Einstein's theory of relativity, it would be theoretically possible to lose or gain age by moving in space at high speed. But I didn't have much time to lose.

At the exit gate, a bearded man, came up to me and said, "Swatiji, if I am not wrong?" I turned and said, "That's right. You are... " He introduced himself, "I'm Gani, Vikky's friend." I remembered what Vikky had told me in Chennai, "You drive a Nissan?" Gani was happy that I could name his breadwinner, "Please wait at the portico, I'll fetch my taxi."

Hotel Borobudur, where my stay had been arranged by Gupta's friend Karan, is located close to the Presidential Palace, and is nicknamed the `Residence for Presidents'. "The hotel's secure location and proximity to the administrative centre of Indonesia," Gupta had told me, "means that the political, diplomatic and corporate work that filled my hands could be easier executed from there." The drive gave me a good glimpse of the city.

Jakarta, the eleventh largest city in the world, has a fast growing population. By 2015, it is expected to be the fifth largest city in the world, with a population of 21.2 million. Jakarta has been a centre of trade since the late 16th century, when the Dutch East India Company founded a city called Batavia near Jakarta Bay. Now, 17 per cent of the nation's industrial production occurs there, and per capita income in Jakarta is 70 per cent higher than the overall national average. Some 70 per cent of housing in the city is unauthorised. Traffic congestion, and the consequent air pollution turn daily commutes into four- or five-hour ordeals. Respiratory tract infections, for example, are the cause for one in seven deaths in Jakarta, more than twice the national average. A problem, as in Chennai, was that private wells withdraw almost 80 billion gallons per year from Jakarta's aquifers (natural underground storage units for ground-water), more than twice as much water as can be naturally replenished in a year. Only 40 per cent of the trash and garbage is collected, while as much as 30 per cent is believed to get blown, washed, or dumped into rivers and canals. My job was not to clean the Aegean stables here, I told myself, but rather to stick my job.

Soon after checking in at the hotel, I am again on my way to a Jakarta jail where Chandru is housed. Karan joins me at the lounge and he suggests, "Swati, hope you know some of the essential lingo for going about in the city?" I take his advice and quickly run through the list of phrases that my friendly travel agent had given as an instant introduction to Bahasa Indonesia, the official national language that unifies the archipelago of 13,000 islands. `Nama saya' is `My name is', and to get help, I ask, `Dapatkah Anda menolong saya?' Thank you is `Terima Kasih', and good morning is `Selamat pagi'. Gani helps me with the native accent. And Karan has the papers he had got from the Indian Embassy, which would ensure I am able to meet the government officers without difficulty.

It is easy, they say, to go to hospital when you are not the patient. The same thing could be said of jails too. So, with a relaxed mind, I am ushered in through the dismal corridors and eerie ambience to a wing where white-collar criminals are housed. "There," points the guard to a lonely cell, and I fail to recognise Chandru. A few days are enough to zap a person's morale and he looks dejected, and too aged as if the weight of many years had descended on him suddenly. "Ten minutes," reminds the guard and waits a few feet away, and I call, "Chandru."

He shuffles in his prison clothes and tentatively comes to the cell door, made of heavy bars. "Swati, am I dreaming?"

"No," I assure him, "I came in today as per boss's orders."

"Is he angry with me," Chandru asked worriedly, "for getting into a mess like this."

"This is not your fault," I comforted him. "We have triggered the arbitration clause and soon it would start in Singapore. Our country's embassy is negotiating your release. You should be a free man soon."

"Ah, I am half-dead," he said, "and the vaastu in this room is not good; the door should be on the opposite wall."

"That would be dangerous," I told him, "because it is the steep face with a 50 metre drop."

"How is my family?" he asked with concern. "Any news?"

"They love you," I said, pushing the paper rose his daughter had given me, as also the picture that his wife put in my hands. "Here is something I brought for you from your family."

(To be continued)

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