A Suitable Boy(502)

‘About the evictions,’ continued the ex-Minister of Revenue, ‘I would like to see a list for this area.’

‘But, Sir –’ began Sandeep Lahiri. He was thinking that he had no such list, and wondering whether he should, ethically speaking, part with it even if he had.

‘However inadequate, however incomplete,’ said Mahesh Kapoor, and got up to escort the young man to the door before he could mention some new scruple that had occurred to him.





14.3


SANDEEP LAHIRI’S visit to Jha’s office was a fiasco.

Jha, as an important political figure, a friend of the Chief Minister, and the Chairman of the Upper House of the state legislature, was used to being consulted by the SDO on all important matters. Lahiri on the other hand saw no need to consult a party leader on matters of routine administration. He had not very long ago been at university, where he had drunk deeply of the general principles of constitutional law, the separation of the party and the state, and liberalism à la Laski. He tried to keep local politicians at arm’s length.

A year in his post at Rudhia, however, had convinced him that there was no getting around direct summonses by senior political leaders. When Jha was foaming, he would have to go. He treated such visits as he would the outbreak of local pestilence: as something unforeseeable and unwelcome, but which necessitated his presence. If it was a drain on his time and his nerves, it was part of the penumbra of his job.

It would have been too much to expect the fifty-five-year-old Jha to come to the young man’s office, though strictly speaking that was what the proprieties required. But out of a sense of what was due to age rather than to the Congress Party, the SDO went to visit him instead. Sandeep Lahiri was used to Jha’s rudeness, so he had come prepared with a sort of silly-ass look that hid what he was really thinking. On one occasion, when Jha had not offered him a seat – apparently because of absent-mindedness, but more probably to impress his underlings of his superiority over the local representative of the state – Lahiri had, equally absent-mindedly, helped himself to one after a few minutes, smiling weakly and benevolently at Jha.

Jha, however, was in a genial mood today. He was smiling broadly, his white Congress cap askew on his huge head.

‘You also sit, you also sit,’ he told Sandeep. They were alone, and there was no one who needed to be impressed.

‘Thank you, Sir,’ said Sandeep, relieved.

‘Have some tea.’

‘Thank you, Sir, I normally would, but I have just had some.’

The conversation circled, then alit.

‘I have seen the circular that has been distributed,’ said Jha.

‘Circular?’

‘About the fund-raising for Independence Day.’

‘Ah, yes,’ said Sandeep Lahiri. ‘I was wondering if I might ask for your help with that. If you, Sir, respected as you are, were to encourage people to contribute, it would have a considerable effect. We could collect a substantial amount, and put on a good show – distribute sweets, feed the poor, and so on. In fact, Sir, I am counting on your help.’

‘And I am counting on your help,’ said Jha, with a broad smile. ‘That is why I have called you.’

‘My help?’ said Sandeep, smiling helplessly and warily.

‘Yes, yes. You see, Congress also has plans for Independence Day, and we will take half the funds you collect, and use them for a separate display – a very good display to help the people and so on, you see. So that is what I expect. The other half you use as you like,’ he added generously. ‘Naturally, I will encourage people to contribute.’

This was precisely what Sandeep had feared. Though neither the older nor the younger man, referred to it now, a couple of Jha’s henchmen had made overtures of the kind to Sandeep a few days earlier; the proposal had gone entirely against his grain, and he had told them so. Now he continued to smile in a silly way. But his silence distressed the politician.

‘So, then, I will expect half the funds. Good?’ he said, a little anxiously. ‘We will need the money soon, we will need a couple of days to organize things, and you have not yet begun your collection.’

‘Well –’ said Sandeep, and threw up his hands in a gesture that implied that if matters were in his discretion, he would have been delighted to give the entire sum he collected to Jha to do with as he pleased, but that, alas, the universe had been cruelly disposed to prevent him from receiving that pleasure.

Jha’s face darkened.

‘You see, Sir,’ said Sandeep, moving his hands around freely in curves of helplessness, ‘my hands are tied.’

Jha continued to stare, then exploded. ‘What do you mean?’ he almost shouted. ‘No hands are tied. Congress says that no hands are tied. Congress will untie your hands.’