Nirvana: A Novel

PROLOGUE

LAKHAN PRATĀP RĀISINGH

The Soul is not free! It is a phenomenon bound by cause and effect; but there is something behind the soul which is free!

~Swami Vivekanand~

L akhan Pratap Raisingh, 62, had died of cardiac arrest last night, suddenly and unexpectedly. LP, as he was respectfully known, and lovingly called, is survived by his only son, Akshat. His wife, Urmila, had died 22 years ago.

RP, Ram Pratap Raisingh, LP’s elder brother, and his wife, Janaki, have raised Akshat Raisingh with the greatest of love and care.

When in his early twenties, Ram Pratap Raisingh, with the help of his younger brother, had set up Raisingh’s first industrial production unit manufacturing various small engineering products near Lucknow in the erstwhile province of ‘United Provinces’—it is now called the state of ‘Uttar Pradesh’. Within eight years the Raisingh brothers had grown rapidly and they set up their first steel plant in Orissa—a re-rolling mill which produced mild-steel structural goods. Over the next three decades, the ambitious but highly principled Raisingh brothers had expanded their production facilities into four other Indian states. Raisingh Industries now produced mild and stainless steel semi-finished products in five of their seven plants across the country; off the two other mills one produced alloy steel while the other produced non-ferrous products.

Twelve years after setting up their first structural steel plant in Orissa, Ram Pratap Raisingh—after an unsavory incident—had handed over the reins to Lakhan Pratap and retired to become a respected and renowned philanthropist. Ever since Ram Pratap Raisingh had retired, Lakhan Pratap had been the motor that had propelled Raisingh Industries to dizzying heights where it stood today.

Last twelve months had been bad for the Raisingh Group of Industries—RGI. Though it was run with great efficiency and dedication, the Raisingh group of Industries was suffering losses due to rippling effects of the sudden collapse of the world’s premier banking and financial institutions, which had plunged the world into a great recession. Raisingh Industries, like all other industrial sectors—metallic or non metallic—had also been hit dramatically—advance productions were replaced by inventory stockpiles, profit margins had turned to losses and new orders had plummeted.

*     *     *

Akshat Lakhan Pratap Raisingh was raised with rigidity to the strict code of the Raisingh ideology, moral ethics and values. He had been raised and trained to comply fully and strictly with the principles of Satya—the truth, Dharma—the moral duty and Karma—the righteous actions, in personal life. Professionally too, he would not be permitted to waver from the strict, unwritten codes of commitment, honour and responsibility. On personal or professional values, no deviation or compromise was acceptable and Akshat had lived up to these values so far.

Now, however, the entire situation has changed and Akshat was to be at the helm of the affairs and most importantly, he has to ensure that Raisingh Industries survives. RGI’s survival was of utmost importance because nearly twelve thousand jobs were dependant on it.

After LP’s death, Akshat Raisingh must not only overcome the tragic loss of his father, he must also set aside his loneliness since childhood, and take over the reins of Raisingh Group of Industries in a critical situation. There was a crisis and must overcome the losses in the prevailing economic situation to ensure Raisingh Industries survives in adverse international and domestic scenario.

ĀTMĀ—THE SOUL

LAKHAN PRATĀP RĀISINGH

I am pure energy! I have discarded my mortal clothes, and now I am part of God—His purest creation in its purest form—A free soul! As I feel a pull towards the heavens, some power—something within, stops me from proceeding.

As I am being transported to another world, I stop and look down on earth; I see my mortal remains laid on an elevated platform. People in their hundreds wait patiently—in twin files, to pay their last respects to their employer. Me! They have come from the far corners of India in a short span of time. This impressive gathering humbles me. Their presence is a testimony to the life that I had lived. I did the best I could to help these people gain and retain their respectful employment in The Raisingh Group of Industries.

I see my grief stricken son, Akshat, and I am torn between my love for him and Urmila—torn between my wish to reunite with my beloved or to stay suspended between the two worlds and witness how my son performs in adversity. I have been waiting to join Urmila for over twenty-two years. I wish to join her soon; desperately. But when I meet Urmila, she will ask me about our only surviving child, and his well-being. I want to tell her that he has become all that we had dreamed of him to be, and I want to tell her that without guilt or remorse.

This is what stops me. While I am suspended here, I reflect on my life as a mortal. When I was alive, I knew I couldn’t have attained Moksha—the freedom from cycle of life and death. However, all my life I had worked towards achieving the state of absolute happiness—Nirvāna. But I know I can’t achieve that either, because I am sad within—sad due to my own negligence of the one person who meant the most to me. My son!

My guilt is that I overlooked my responsibility towards my son. He had a right to my time. I had an ambition; I wanted to create an empire for my son to take over. I memory of my beloved wife, I had planned my most ambitious project; an ultra-modern, state of the art, fully integrated steel plant, as my dedication to her. Having set up that plant, I had planned to retire in two years and hand over the reins to my son, and thus allowing me to spend more time with him. But destiny had other ideas.

Akshat was only five years old when he lost his mother. Urmila was expecting our second child when she miscarried, and died of excessive blood loss. I was shattered. A life without my beloved was unthinkable for me. Each moment which I lived after Urmila’s death, I missed her. In grief, I submerged myself into work, avoiding any thoughts I had of my wife because it allowed me to temporarily escape her memory. Expectedly, my brother and his wife, upon seeing my despair and my struggle, supported me by taking guardianship of my son.

Despite his motherless childhood, Akshat has been raised with love and care by Rām Pratāp Rāisingh and his wife, Jānaki; my mother—figure. Despite the immense love and care of his Tāu and Tāi (as Akshat calls his uncle and aunt in traditional way), I know my son is an extremely sad and lonely man within. I have seen his loneliness when I was with him. I know he is aware that he was my only reason for living, though I had worked harder to survive my days. In that respect I think I have been too selfish.

I can’t proceed to the other world until I see Akshat successful and happy. I have to see him overcome the obstacles he will be facing as he takes over a vast organization such as RGI in recessionary times. I am thankful that he still has my brother and his wife to guide him in personal life and the stalwarts at RGI like Jaal Mistry, Brajesh Singh and Adva to help him overcome problems in running such a vast empire. I am truly happy that Akshat has a genuine friend in Vivek Khosla. Though Vivek is an employee of RGI, he certainly is the one person with whose company Akshat is happy.

RP wasn’t just my elder brother. He was also my best friend, my philosopher, my guide and my guru. He has been the same to Akshat. More importantly, he has also been a father to Akshat in way that I could never be. I am the biological father of Akshat but RP has been his real father otherwise. Under RP’s guidance and scrutinizing eyes, Akshat has grown up to become what he is today. However, now the true test of Akshat’s inherent character will come to the fore. I have absolutely no doubt that Akshat will outshine me on the business front. I am certain of that because Jaal Mistry has trained him well. With his knowledge and business acumen he is capable of overcoming all problems he may come across. He retains the principles, the values, the morality and the integrity for which Raisingh Group of Industries and its people are renowned for. As the new head of RGI, Akshat’s first priority will be to overcome the recent setbacks due to recession. This will be the first major hurdle. I foresee the numerous problems which Akshat will be facing and in a way I am excited by the thought of seeing him overcome them. I am certain he will succeed but how he does it will be the key. If he is what his Tau—Ram Pratap Raisingh has raised him to be and does accordingly, I am certain he will help me attain Nirvana. I will wait to see how Akshat performs and acts in adversity. He is a worthy heir to a highly principled business empire.

There is, however, a greater threat of which Akshat is unawares. The threat is mortal. Ancestral rivalry between the Raisinghs and our distant relatives, the Chauhāns has existed for three generations. Though it has been dormant for over twenty years, I know that Akshat will be their main target. His life is in serious danger. Akshat is oblivious that his own distant cousin would go to any extent to kill him for vengeance—for an honor killing. Akshat knows about the ancestral feud, the mutual rivalry and animosity but not of the gravity of the feud between the two families. He has to conquer this—the greatest of all threats.

If he triumphs my guilt will have been erased and I can share his success with Urmilā. I hope . . . I really hope that she’s waiting for me up there in the haven—for me, in her purest form. So, I shall wait here for my son to help me achieve . . . NIRVANA.

*     *     *

ALL THAT IS REAL IN ME, IS GOD! ALL THAT IN GOD IS REAL, IS I. THE GULF BETWEEN GOD AND HUMAN IS THUS BRIDGED. THUS WE FIND HOW, BY KNOWING GOD, WE FIND THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN WITHIN US.

~SWAMI VIVEKANAND~

ĀYAN

THE INITIATION (THE BEGINNING)

A kshat Lakhan Pratap Raisingh woke up with a sudden jerk. The alarm clock had shrieked violently as it struck 5am.

Since his father’s death two months ago, the void in his heart had grown wider.

During one of the last detailed conversations he had held with his father, LP had said something that stayed in Akshat’s heart and mind to this very moment.

It was a late afternoon three months ago, a month before Lakhan Pratap Raisingh’s death. LP and Akshat were deeply engrossed in a discussion, which was a rarity in itself. They and Jaal Mistry were discussing solutions to clear hurdles relating to LP’s dream to set up the world’s most modern integrated steel mill in Bhuj, Gujarat. The plant was barely twenty percent complete when world’s great financial institutions had started to crack, bringing in an unexpected recession—worldwide. Their bankers had started to worry and the strains were beginning to show once the world officially went into recession.

Jaal Mistry had received a call. He had excused himself and had left the room to attend to an urgent matter which has suddenly cropped up. LP had looked at Jaal close the door behind him, then he had abruptly dropped his wrists on the table in front of him, shaken his head suddenly and looked at Akshat with sadness in his eyes.

LP had observed his son for some time without saying anything. Then he had patted his son sitting next to him and said with sad face, "Don’t be so lonely. There is someone very special you will be meeting very soon. That one person—your soul mate, will make your life worth living—and dying for. When you find her you won’t be as lonely as you are now. You will never be as sad as you are at this moment. I have not been a perfect father to you, son. But . . . LP had shrugged his shoulder and shaken his head again, in sadness. Then he had squeezed his son’s palms with all the affection in him, and added, as an afterthought, If someday you feel lonely and when I am not around anymore, remember this."

"Why do you speak like that, Papa? Nothing is going to happen to you . . . and you have been the greatest father any child could dream of having. You have never scolded me or been harsh with me . . . and you . . . Papa . . . I don’t know of any person whose father loves him as much as you love me." Akshat had said calmly trying his best to hide his exasperation.

"Whether it’s true or not, I don’t know. I know I haven’t been fair with you. I have not devoted my time to you . . . you deserved it. But you know that I am trying my best to create something very special for you. In the end if I succeed in what I have in mind, I will be happy. But I don’t know the designs of destiny. We are never certain of what may happen in the next moment. So, I said what I said. Just accept it." LP had stated passionately.

His father was not given to sudden emotional or sentimental bursts and Akshat had found it strange the way his father had said it. There was no reason for it.

I honestly say what I know. Your mother left me twenty-two years ago. Whether you like it or not, I wish to join her at the earliest, LP had declared with a forlorn look.

Akshat had looked at his father disturbingly. An unknown fear had gripped him suddenly. He wanted to speak but he was choking with that unknown fear within him.

LP had understood Aksaht’s situation. He had smiled wryly. "Don’t look at me that way. I know what I am saying. You have to learn that there is someone very special for you out there . . . Like your mother was for me, this girl will be the one who will be your companion for life. She will be the one who will truly be your greatest inspiration in life . . . despite your Tau or me."

"Papa . . ." he said without hiding his irritation.

His father had smiled again with that ever present sadness in his eyes; his father missed his soul mate—he had so for 22 years, he knew that.

*     *     *

LP had made a prophecy. He knew by experience that his father was always right. Akshat didn’t believe in prophecies but since his father had said it; it was bound to be true—he had no doubts about it. But if that was so, he thought, where was she now?

Where are you? Tell me where you are and I will come and fetch you. I need you, he cried out to her. Yes, I am lonely and if Papa was right, then you are the only one who will fill this void I have in my heart.

His father’s words echoed in his ears again. Akshat slid the drapes from the window and looked out.

You are out there somewhere. I will have to find you soon. I have been waiting for months, maybe years, now. Papa was right. I am waiting for you. If you are there, how can you let me live such a tortured life? You must be experiencing the same void as I do. If so, give me a clue, I will come and fetch you. Where are you? he spoke to her into the vastness of space in front of him.

*     *     *

Akshat Lakhan Pratap Raisingh, the new head of Raisingh Industries, was twenty-seven years old, 6'1", athletic and slim but muscular, fair, had chiselled facial features and intelligent eyes. He had a smile that rarely came to the lips, but when it did, it gave his face the proverbial million dollar look. When people observed his eyes closely they would always see an ever present loneliness in them—even sadness. The intelligent dark brown eyes rarely expressed his emotions and rarely smiled.

Akshat turned away from the window, returned to his bed and tried sleeping again. It didn’t work. He got out of bed and went into the lounge for his bed-tea which he would have it there today instead of the customary bed tea.

*     *     *

The Raisingh Business Complex was on a quiet tree lined street in the business district of south Mumbai. It housed Raisingh Industries’ international sales and also governed its nationwide domestic sales. RGI’s legal, accounts and logistics departments were also situated in this complex. Raisingh complex was a modern steel and glass building with designer pre-coated steel, aluminum and stainless steel paneled façade. The building was a twelve-storey structure above the ground and three stories under, with basement car parks at two levels and one for recycling of water and other wastages which could be recycled. Though the building looked lean from the outside, just hundred and twenty feet wide, it was hundred and forty feet deep with two sides facing the Arabian Sea. The interiors were decorated with detailed attention to efficiency. It was spacious, tastily furnished with special care for comfort, and for a relaxed working environment. A large twelve feet high Raisingh steel and copper logo appeared etched into the wall behind the reception counter, proudly facing the front gate.

*     *     *

Mrs. Aditi Vaidyanathan had done a perfect job as usual. Akshat will be relying on her assistance for his day-to-day work, as his late father did until two months ago. Adva, as she was lovingly called by the management and colleagues alike, was proficient. Her ‘hands-on’ information on everything and anything related to Raisingh Industries was a great advantage. His late father had nicknamed her ‘Adva’. It pronounced the first syllables of her initials and it was apt. She was an ‘advantage’.

Adva was a diligent, efficient, highly intelligent and a supremely confident woman. Akshat had met her many times since childhood and he was always impressed by her comprehensive knowledge of Raisingh Industries, its finances, business dealings and also with the people who worked for RGI. In the last two months, she had been his best help at work along with Vivek Khosla. He had learned from his late father that she was as reliable as Jaal Mistry and Brajesh Singh, in this building. These were his most trusted hands along with Vivek Khosla.

In her late forties, Adva was a slightly plump woman. She was 5'2", tanned brown skin, always wrapped in a typical Indian silk sari. She always wore a sandalwood teeka with a large bindi, on her forehead, with classical south Indian jewelry, rings on her four fingers in each hand, large intricately designed earrings, three golden bangles and at least half a dozen glass bangles on each wrist, a 22 carat gold chain and a mangal-sutra with tiny black beads to accompany gold, around her neck. If one met her in a market she would easily pass off as any middle-class housewife running her errands. The impression belied her intellect and efficiency. She was punctual in every sense of the word. What Akshat had appreciated most was her dedication to her job. The respect she had earned was apparent when Raisingh staff acknowledged her as the untitled deputy Chair-person of the Raisingh organization. Even Jaal Mistry and Brajesh Singh, the other two stalwarts of RGI never dared to counter her on her information, nor ever ignore her advice. She was always right.

*     *     *

Akshat had a series of meetings scheduled for the next ten days. Whether the Raisingh Empire would struggle or thrive in these times of recession would depend on the outcome of these meetings. Come what may, the Raisingh Group of Industries will overcome all the present obstacles that came its way, he was confident, and he was determined to make RGI one of the best corporate identities of the country.

LP’s dream of setting up the country’s biggest and state of the art integrated steel plant in Bhuj would not be stalled in any case whatsoever. He was determined not to let any of the seven mill’s operations or financial situation stop the construction of LP’s dream project. The next ten days would determine the course forward. He looked at the group of people he was scheduled to meet in this period. The list was long: suppliers of raw materials, buyers, foreign commission agents and distributors, domestic stockists and local agents, creditors, debtors, bankers and the heads of all branches in India and abroad.

Akshat held Adva’s report in his hands. It ran into seventy-one pages. Off Raisingh’s seven plants four were in deep red. There was nothing wrong with the workings or management. These plants had been making handsome profits until recession hit the markets. Raisingh Industries had contracted large quantities of raw material procurements at higher costs before the recession had struck international markets and now it was selling its finished products at large discounts—at loss. RGI was struggling with cancelled orders, huge inventory stock piles, continuous decline in domestic and international steel prices, and slowdown of its buyers’ procurement orders.

These factors put together, had plunged Raisingh Group mills incomes into red. Added to that, the construction of Bhuj plant was draining RGI’s resources and depleting its reserves. The depressed market was determining Raisingh Industries’ fortunes for now. He had to change this, and he would; he had to.

Two other plants were breaking even; mainly because these plants supplied half their production to other plants within the Raisingh group. Just one plant, Brihan Alloys, Ghaziabad, near New Delhi was in profits. Brihan was a small plant. There was a simple reason for its profits. It produced ‘special steels’. Brihan Alloys had long standing orders; usually it had annual contracts with its end users. Six weeks ago, Brihan had re-negotiated the prices and terms and conditions with its buyers, and that kept the plant in profits.

He looked further down the list. The International Trading Division had shown profits better than ever before. He wasn’t surprised. When Jaal Mistry was the head of the International Division and Vivek Khosla was his deputy, Akshat had nothing to worry about. That department had to be in profits. He smiled. The thought of the two made him comfortable. Akshat put the report in his drawer. Raisingh Group would be in profits again—within twelve months—recession or not, he promised himself.

*     *     *

It was past 8pm. Akshat was done for the day. He looked around his office chamber. There was an eerie silence. He looked at his parents large photographs on the wall behind him. He saw the sandalwood garland which hung on the photographs and the lamp which was always lit. He missed them. He had very little memory of his divine looking mother, but he had spent many memorable—probably the finest—moments of his life with his adorable father. Ever since LP had died Akshat had felt as if a part of himself had gone with his father. Suddenly, he felt a void in his heart again. He closed his eyes for a few short moments to think of them. He rose to his feet and stood in front of their photographs, brought his fingers to the feet of his parents, touched them and then touched the forehead with the fingers, as a ‘Pranam’—a salutary respect towards them. This was his regular practice. He sought their blessings each morning when he arrived in his office and each evening when he left.

He walked out of his chamber, locked it and started towards the elevator when he noticed that Adva was still working in her large cubicle glass chamber, adjacent to his own. He walked over, knocked, opened the glass door and stood at the door. She was busy on her computer as usual.

Good evening, Adva. Are we keeping you so late? he said in light humour.

"Good Evening, Baba. I was just giving final touches to our report for the bankers’ meet."

People at home and work had various terms of reference for him; Akshat, Sir, Mr. Raisingh or Baba. Adva preferred the last. She has been calling him Baba, meaning ‘son’ in an archaic way, since he had come to the office with his father for the first time when he was eight years old. The name had stayed with her.

"That’s next week. Its 8pm., Aren’t you late?’ he asked.

I would have finished it earlier if it wasn’t for your Bellary trip tomorrow. That had to be arranged.

Ok. You got the details from Karthik about the miners?

Yes. I want to talk to you about it, she said with a caution in her tone.

Is there something to be worried about? he asked knowing she wouldn’t have mentioned it if it wasn’t serious.

I did some background checks on the miners you will be meeting. Three of the five are fine. The other two mines are not registered. They are indirectly owned by local politicians. They are criminals. I don’t think you should be meeting with such people. Mr. Raisingh intentionally kept such people away, she advised.

You know we don’t deal with such people then why were the meetings arranged? Who arranged these meetings? Karthik? He is very meticulous normally. Ask him if he checked out their background earlier. Cancel my meetings with them and tell him to find me alternatives. We need a hundred and forty thousand tons from October, Adva.

Yes, I have already spoken to him. He got the message. She smiled.

He smiled back. He turned to leave. He reached the door, turned and said solemnly, Thank you, Adva.

She turned to look at him. For doing my job? she asked.

No… It is for the concern in your eyes. Now… Leave! The meeting is scheduled for next week. You can complete this tomorrow.

She nodded and returned to the documents. He shook his head with a smile and left. They, including him, Jaal Mistry, Brajesh Singh, Adva, Vivek Khosla, Udita More and some others; were all workaholics. And each had a dedication to the job. This was a team which worked like a well oiled, well synchronized machine which made the RGI as successful, efficient and respected group of Industries as it was.

*     *     *

Adva saw Akshat walk towards the elevators and turned her attention to the computer monitor. She would have left early if her loving and caring husband Vaidyanathan Shekhar—a scientist with the state government of Maharashtra—was in town. Their only child, Revathy was happily married and lived with her husband and child in Mangalore, in southern state of Karnataka. The couple originally hailing from the Southern state of Tamil Nadu had moved to Mumbai when Shekhar landed a job with the Government of Maharashtra. She had moved to Mumbai reluctantly. She had applied for the secretary’s job with a small Industrial group twenty-nine years ago. And she had witnessed that small Industrial group grow to become the second largest Steel production entity in India. Within a few months in the new job she had dedicated her life and loyalty to the entity which became the RGI.

When her husband was on tour she liked spending her time in RGI complex. She had no relatives in Mumbai either of her own or on her husband’s side. So, any time had, she liked to spend it here, in the Raisingh Complex. It kept her busy and she liked being with the people of RGI, especially Akshat and Udita More, the head of accounts department. Though she never expressed it openly, to her they were like her own children.

Adva had shared her secret wish with her doting husband—a wish—to have a son to complete her family. It had never materialized. Since she had seen an eight year old Akshat with his father in the office for the first time, she had fallen in love with the kid and treated Akshat like her own son and he had accorded her the respect and love a son would give. There was one other person for whom she had special affection—Udita More. The head accountant’s mannerisms and doe like eyes reminded her of Revathy.

*     *     *

Mubarak, the family driver, stood by the car. Seeing his young boss walk through the lobby, he opened the door and walked over to his side. Akshat pushed his head back on the headrest in the car and closed his eyes for a few moments thinking about the day’s events. It had been a fruitful day. Then he thought about the rest of the evening and the emptiness returned. He had no friends, except one man who was Jaal Mistry’s deputy, Vivek Khosla. He had no social circle either. Some of his ex-college colleagues were in touch but he could not term any of them as a friend. If they organized parties, he would attend them but he would get bored. After a couple of drinks he would excuse himself and leave.

At home, he had an aunt who was greater than any mother could be and uncle who was like a father to him. Akshat’s activities at home were minimal. He would leave early and return late. His aunt—his ‘Tai’ was always there for him but they hardly spent time. When, on rare occasions, he reached home early she would go into frenzy and over pamper him. But they had nothing to talk about; no common topic. And they both hated to talk about general topics.

With his ‘Tau’ he had a totally different relationship altogether. He was in awe of the man. Ram Pratap Raisingh was a man of great intellect with vast knowledge and he could discuss on virtually any topic anyone could come up with, and win it if there was a debate. RP was Akshat’s spiritual Guru, and a colossal, with which he had numerous conversations. RP was the man he respected the most; even more than his own father. He could easily pick his father’s elder brother as his first choice for guidance in any situation. RP had been by his side since as far as he could remember.

LP, his doting father was always submerged in work and rarely had time for Akshat. There were times when LP would take his son on short trips because he wanted his son’s company. Probably if Urmila, Akshat’s mother was alive, LP would have been a totally different man altogether. LP was alive but never living. His eyes displayed it. And Akshat knew that it was LP’s love for his son which kept him going. LP never expressed it but he displayed it rarely with his actions. Akshat had very faint memories of his mother. But the memories that remained were profound; those memories enhanced the dimensions of his emptiness within.

But, Akshat was also aware that he was the greatest asset of his aunt and uncle; their greatest love. They were living for him and they could die for him, and kill for him—as he could, for them.

*     *     *

As the car moved into the congested and chaotic Mumbai rush hour traffic, he closed his eyes again and the emptiness returned to haunt him. He shut out the thought and did what he always did when he had that feeling. He would take a few deep breaths and divert his mind to think of something which could occupy his mind. What now when he reached home, he thought. No idea came to mind. He thought of catching a late night movie. For now… he looked at the car’s music system and clicked on the panel to check CDs he had in the car. Then the cell phone rang and it changed all his plans. The problem was going to be a challenge.

*     *     *

He saw the cell phone light up. He was expecting his Tai’s phone instead he saw an unknown number with east India prefix. He flicked it open.

Akshat Raisingh here, he spoke with his usual introduction.

Sir, I am Shibendu Das, assistant plant manager, Jagannath Rolling Mill, Bhubaneswar. The man spoke softly but sounded desperate.

Yes, Mr. Das? Is there something serious? How can I help you?

I regret bothering you this late, Sir. I am calling you because I am concerned about something that I found out by sheer accident yesterday evening. I looked around and found that there is something seriously wrong with a contract here.

Ok. What did you learn? Akshat sounded wary.

The international price for billets is around US dollars three hundred and fifty-five per metric ton, delivered to Haldia docks. Am I correct, Sir?

Yes, it is the approximately price. What’s the matter?

Then why has JRM placed an order for sixty thousand tons at six hundred and eighteen dollars a ton? asked Das.

Akshat jumped forward in his seat. What? Are you sure, Mr. Das? Akshat’s voice couldn’t hide the shock in his tone. Why would JRM pay that sort of a price? It was inconceivable.

Yes, Sir… I have documentary evidence to prove it. The payment is to be made through ‘Letter of Credit’ from our bank. What’s more, JRM has posted a bank guarantee of five million dollars already. If we don’t provide an LC, the Bank Guarantee can be encashed, Sir.

Akshat was disturbed. This could financially ruin JRM. JRM was the first plant set up by the Raisingh brothers and therefore, it had a very special status. Akshat’s mind was racing now. This wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. He thought for a few moments and spoke again, Can you scan and email me the documents, Mr. Das?

I am afraid we don’t have that much time on our hands, sir. the tone was desperate.

What? Why? Akshat was alarmed.

Sir today is Friday. Then we have the weekend in Europe. And the LC has to be provided by Monday as per the terms of the contract, failing which, the seller in Ukraine can encash our bank guarantee. Das expressed his fear.

Are you absolutely certain of what you are saying, Mr. Das? You are making an extremely serious allegation against the management in Bhubaneswar. Akshat couldn’t believe that it was possible for JRM management to indulge in such a massive fraud.

Mr. Raisingh Sir, I wouldn’t dare if I wasn’t sure. I have some documents, which I confess, I have acquired through improper means. These documents spell out the entire scam and in detail, Sir.

Akshat was silent and thinking for a moment.

Das spoke again. I have booked myself on a late night flight to Mumbai, sir. I will be landing around 1am. Can I meet you in the morning tomorrow?

Akshat gave credit to Das for being pro-active. The man had actually thought of everything as far as he could have. No. You reach Mumbai. I will pick you up at the airport and we can talk then. I will make arrangements for your stay here. Call me when you land.

Akshat disconnected and dialed Adva. Adva wasn’t picking up the cell. He left her a voice message to return his call immediately.

He laid his head back, closed his eyes, wondering how a scam was possible in Bhubaneswar? The Raisinghs had only one partner in the entire Raisingh group. Prabhat Jha held ten percent stocks of JRM. It was a token of appreciation by the Raisingh brothers for Jha. The later had worked very hard to help Raisingh brothers set up their first steel manufacturing plant. Since the brothers were in Lucknow, about seven hundred kilometers from the site, Jha’s efforts had made the plant possible. After setting up other plants Raisingh brothers had handed over the reins of management to Jha. Prabhat Jha had died a year ago and now his son Om Prakash Jha managed the plant in the capacity of full time Director. By the reports he had read earlier this evening from Adva, the plant was operated efficiently.

His thoughts were disrupted by the cell phone. He checked. It was Adva.

Adva, I regret disturbing you at this hour. Something serious has come up. Tell me, what’s happening at JRM?

I got their quarterly report a fortnight ago. All seems fine and I also sent you a brief of it in the report I sent you this evening. What happened? Why do you ask? she asked.

Who is the chief plant manager there? What do you know about him?

"Yes, Mr. B. D. Bansal is the chief plant manager appointed by Mr. Jha. What’s going on, Baba?" she asked, concerned.

Apparently, something is seriously wrong. Who is Shibendu Das?

I think I read in the report that he was newly appointed as deputy plant manager. What’s going on? You sound very upset. She could always tell about his state of mind by his tone.

It’s ok. This Shibendu Das called me up. He gave me a brief. Apparently something is cooking there and we are unaware of it. Das is flying down tonight. I will call you tomorrow morning and let you know what’s going on. In the meantime, postpone my trip to Bellary. I will leave only after I have finished this task. Good Night, Adva.

Adva’s tone was cautious. Postpone your trip? Is it so serious? If you need any help call me. Don’t worry about the time. Adva knew that it must be an extremely serious situation for Akshat to postpone his trip to Bellary. RGI was desperately seeking a regular source of supply for iron ore.

A few minutes later, as the car neared home, Mubarak asked, "You are to go to airport around midnight. You want me to wait, Baba?"

No. I will take a cab or drive myself. You are going on leave tomorrow. Give my best wishes to Shabana. Tell her I will miss her ‘Biryani’. He smiled. There is a carton in the boots… It is from Taiji. he said.

Mubarak was a thirty-two year old school drop-out. When RP had met him twelve years earlier, at one of the orphanages he visited, he had liked the shy, skinny boy and asked him to meet him later. After speaking to Mubarak for fifteen minutes, RP had arranged for the fees to learn driving a four-wheeler. When Mubarak had a license, RP had hired him as his driver and after six months of honesty and hard-work, Mubarak was presented with a car through a loan from the bank, guaranteed by RP. Mubarak now rented the car on hire and drove it himself on Sundays for short trips for his regular clients.

Akshat tapped Mubarak on the shoulder as the car stopped in the parking lot.

Mubarak turned around and saw an envelope in Akshat’s hand. Mubarak took it. Thank you.

Akshat knew that financial assistance would be of greater help to Mubarak than a gift. He had put fifty-thousand Rupees in the envelope to ensure Mubarak was not in any financial crunch.

This is for her. If it was near Mumbai I would have loved to attend the wedding. You know my situation. I can’t overlook my responsibilities.

"I am aware of it. Thank you, Baba."

Will you be back on Monday?

Yes.

*     *     *

He reached home, had a shower and went straight to the dining table. Kantibhai must have served the dinner by now. Kantibhai was thin, long hair curling over his shoulders, mixed grey and black like his moustache which had grown over his lips and rolled into pointed edges at the ends. He had been the family chef and housekeeper since he could remember. Kantibhai had never married. Akshat was the only family he considered and he never had dinner until his Baba had eaten. This had always forced Akshat to dine at home, however late he may be. Kantibhai was thin man with very mild mannerism and even softer voice and his literary skills were restricted to reading in Gujarati and signing his name. It was all he needed in order to sign cheques and hand over money to his scheming kin who tried to extort him with their absurd tales of misfortune.

Though Kantibhai had a brother and a sister, he had left them the day they had withdrawn all the bank balance he had. Akshat was his life, his only karmic duty and Akshat respected him duly. Kantibhai was more like Akshat’s family member than a domestic servant. Household servants had always been respected and loved like a family member in his house from as far back as even his late father could remember.

*     *     *

At 1 am, Akshat waited at the coffee shop next to the arrival gate of the domestic terminal. He had finished his second cup of coffee when he saw Shibendu emerge twenty-five minutes later. A large brown envelope and a JRM leather bag with Raisingh logo imprinted made it easy for him to identify. He would not have imagined the man to be so short and skinny judging by the deep throated voice he had heard over the phone.

Akshat walked over to Das and tapped his shoulder. Shibendu… Akshat Raisingh. He stretched his hand in a shake and introduction.

I am pleased to meet you, Sir! Das nervously shook Akshat’s hands.

Akshat and Das sat in an open air cafeteria outside the gates. Akshat ordered heavy snacks and milk shake for his guest and another cup of coffee for himself. When Das tried to discuss about the matter at hand, Akshat dismissed it and told Das to have his meal first, and then they would discuss business.

Food! The whole of mankind works hard for this one; most important necessity of a human being. If food was available for every stomach, the world would not have as many crimes being committed as we see today. We must respect food; whatever we get we must be grateful for it. Never complain, never disrespect, never under-value the importance of food! RP had said.

Neither spoke until they sat in the car seats. Das handed over a bulky envelope to Akshat quietly without uttering a word. Akshat took the folder.

Sir, though these transcripts date back to six months but these were sent and received just last week. That’s why I brought the e-mail copies. The attachments are contracts along with their ‘Terms and Conditions’. These have been predated by almost six months. It’s a massive fraud being perpetrated by these two men, I think. If this goes through, JRM could incur irretrievable losses. The losses could amount to well over twenty million dollars if we calculate the taxes and other expenses, if we go through with the imports. If not, we stand to lose at least five million posted as guarantee anyway, Das spoke nervously.

Akshat took a fleeting glance at the documents in the folder and decided to read it carefully later when he reached home. He placed the folder on the dashboard and looked at Das. How were you able to get these?

I found it purely by accident.

Akshat looked at him; his eyes asking Das to continue.

On Wednesday, Mr. Jha asked me to sign a document which contained chemical and physical properties of Billets that JRM wanted to import from Ukraine. I found the carbon content up to 0.45 percent whereas we use a maximum of 0.22 percent. I pointed out the error to Mr. Jha. He took the sheet and sent me a revised copy from the Ukrainians. This time the chemical and physical properties were in order. So, I signed it.

OK. But you didn’t tell me how you found this.

As a normal procedure, any purchase order has to have my consent for technical acceptance. Mr. Jha asked me to sign a purchase order for imports of Steel Billets. Since we use over eighty thousand tons annually, we import sometimes. However, the chemical composition Mr. Jha provided had an error. It had carbon content at 0.45 percent which is quite high for our consumption. I advised him that we need carbon with .022 percent maximum. Das repeated, explaining the situation.

Ok. Then what happened?

He thanked me for being careful and told me he will check with the mill in Ukraine but he returned with a revised mill’s offer in twenty minutes. I checked the details and they were all in order. The chemical composition and the tensile strengths were exactly as per our requirement. I signed it and sent an email confirmation.

You have mentioned that twice already. I understand the importance of the grade of billets but you haven’t told me yet what made you suspicious?

It was the time difference, Sir. It was 10am our time. So it must be around 7.30am Ukrainian time. Who works at that hour? I had a gut feeling that something was not right. Then I calculated that at six hundred and eighteen dollars a ton, we were paying an extremely high price for these billets considering the present market situation for the end products. I had my doubts so I wanted to clear them. I didn’t wish to alarm Mr. Jha by asking him directly so I snooped around. He has a strange habit. He doesn’t shut down his laptop or PC if he leaves for a short while. He minimizes the screen and leaves. This morning I saw him leave and in order… just to check if we had actually received the revised technical details this early, I checked his laptop. I saw the whole list of email transmissions between the Ukrainians and Mr. Jha. I sent all the emails to my personal ID and then deleted it from his sent message box and emptied his trash box just to be safe. My suspicions were right. The copies are there in your hands.

Did you speak to Mr. Bansal about this?

No, Sir. The normal procedure is that the Plant Director and the Company Director must both co-sign the contract before any LC or Bank Guarantees are posted. In this case, the Guarantee was provided and the LC is scheduled to be established by next Monday. I am quite certain that Mr. Bansal is aware of this. But, still, I wasn’t sure if he was involved or not, so I called you directly.

Why did you call me so late in the evening?

"Sir, I wanted to be absolutely certain about this entire contract so I wanted to study the ‘Terms and Conditions’ of