Revolution 2020 (18 page)

‘We will
what?’ I said. I hated it when Bedi didn’t tell me things
beforehand.

‘I will
explain to you. Let’s go, we have other meetings,’ Bedi
said and stood up. ‘Thanks, sir, will see you on Friday.’

Shrivastava came to
see us off at the door. ‘When do I get my first salary?’
he said.

‘I will send
the cash home,’ I said.

We had five more
faculty prospects to meet. Shukla-ji had given us an Innova car for
exclusive use of the college. We proceeded to Mughal Sarai to meet a
retired chemical engineering professor.

‘I am so
relieved the dean is done,’ Bedi said as the car reached the
highway.

‘He seemed
more Mr Deal than Mr Dean to me,’ I quipped.

‘He has worked
in private colleges before. He knows he is in demand. Don’t
take his tantrums personally,’ Bedi said.

‘What did he
mean by “fix” the school principals?’ I said.

‘The schools
have a big influence on where the child goes next. Many try for an
IIT and NIT, most don’t make it. Where do they go?’

‘Where?’
I said.

‘That’s
where we come in. Private colleges can fulfil your dream of becoming
an engineer, even if you didn’t clear the entrance exam. The
problem is, there are so many private colleges now. How does the
student choose?’

I asked the driver
to increase the temperature of the air-conditioner, to beat the forty
degrees outside. ‘How?’ I said.

‘They go with
the school teachers’ and principals’ advice. Who else can
they trust?’

‘True,’
I said. ‘So, we ask the principal to recommend our college?’

‘Exactly! You
are smart,’ Bedi said, probably in sarcasm.

‘Do we bribe
them too?’ 1 said.

‘Yes. But
never say that word, especially to school principals. Anyway, it is a
straightforward calculation. We give them ten per cent of the fee we
take for every admission.’

A defined sum
doesn’t sound like a bribe.

‘We give ten
per cent to anyone - coaching classes, career fair organisers or
whoever helps us fill up the college.’

‘Ten per cent
it is,’ I said.

‘You are
working on the media plan, right?’ he said.

My thoughts went to
our media strategy, then to Raghav, and from there to Aarti. It is
amazing how the brain will connect one thought to another until it
gets to where it wants to be.

Bedi continued to
talk about how we will fill two hundred students for the first batch.
I tuned out, looking at the fields outside and remembering Aarti’s
flowing hair as she took a sip from my drink in Raghav’s
balcony. Life is a bitch when the only woman you can think of belongs
to someone else.

I saw Raghav enter
the campus from the window of my office. I had screamed at the
carpenters to get my office desk and chairs finished in time. Apart
from the missing visitors’ sofa, my office had become
functional. The air-conditioner worked. I increased the cooling to
maximum to ensure Raghav noticed it. I surrounded myself with files.
He came and knocked on the half-open door.

‘Yes?’ I
said and looked up.

‘We did say
two o’ clock, right?’ Raghav said. He wore a white shirt
and blue jeans.

‘Hi, Raghav.
Sorry, I keep so busy, I lose track of time sometimes,’ I said.

He sat across me. I
sat on the director’s chair. I wondered if he noticed how I had
a far more plush chair than his.

He took out his
notepad, pen and a few printouts. ‘I did some research,
whatever I could find on the college.’

‘You won’t
find much. We are new,’ I said.

‘Yes, but I
found a lot on one of the trustees, Shukla.’

‘Of course, he
is a popular politician. But he isn’t really involved in the
functioning of the college.’

‘He’s
involved in many other things though.’ Raghav smoothed out the
printout with the questions.

‘Tea?’ I
said.

He nodded. I rang
the bell. I had asked the peon to bring tea in the bone china cups we
kept for special guests. Not that Raghav counted as special. However,
I wanted him to know we had tea in fancy cups.

He looked around the
huge twenty-by-eighteen-feet office. I wanted to ask him if anyone in
his newspaper had such a big office, but controlled myself.

He noticed an
architects model of the campus behind me. ‘Can I take a look?’
he said.

‘Sure,’
I said and jumped up. ‘Let me show you all the facilities’

I explained the
campus layout to him. ‘The hostels are here. We will keep
adding more rooms with successive batches. The classrooms and faculty
offices are here, in the main building we are in right now. The labs
are in a separate building. All imported equipment.’

‘What will be
the faculty ratio?’ Raghav said, taking frantic notes.

‘We are
targeting no more than one teacher per fifteen students,’ I
said, ‘which is better than the AICTE norms. One day we want to
be better than BHU.’

He looked at me.

‘Just as a
goal. Who else is there to compare with?’ I said.

He shrugged his
shoulders in support.

The tea arrived. I
had instructed the peon to serve at least five snacks. He brought
nuts, biscuits, samosas, potato chips and cut fruits.

‘That’s
not tea. That’s a meal,’ Raghav said.

‘Please have.
We can continue the interview later,’ I said as the peon served
us.

We ate in silence. I
didn’t want to discuss anything other than the college with
him. He picked up his notepad as he ate.

‘What kind of
investment went into this college?’ he said.

‘Lots.
Engineering colleges aren’t cheap,’ I said and laughed,
avoiding any real figures.

‘How much
exactly?’ he said.

‘Hard to say.
I had the land, but if you had to buy it, you can imagine the
prices,’ I said.

‘Isn’t
this agricultural land?’ he said.

‘Yes, you know
that, Raghav. Remember Baba’s court case?’

‘You managed
to get it from your relatives?’ he said.

‘Yes, but
that’s not going into the interview, right?’ I said.

‘No. But tell
me, how did this agricultural land get re-zoned?’

‘We applied,
the VNN approved,’ I said.

He continued to take
notes.

‘Everything is
approved,’ I repeated, perhaps too defensively.

‘Because of
Shukla?’ he asked.

‘No,’ I
said, somewhat irritated. ‘Because we followed procedures’

‘Fine. How
much did the college cost apart from the land?’ he said.

‘I am not sure
if I can reveal that. It is, after all, competitive information. But
anyone who visits our campus can see it is state of the art,’ I
said.

‘More than
five crores?’ he persisted. I shouldn’t have entered his
guessing game.

‘Yes,’ I
said.

‘More than
ten?’ he said.

‘How is the
actual number relevant?’ I said.

‘Where did the
money come from?’ he said.

‘From the
trustees and their associates.’

‘Whose
associates? Yours or Shukla’s?’ he said.

‘I gave the
land. Shukla-ji arranged for the funds, for the benefit of this town.
We are a non-profit trust,’ I said.

‘Do you know
where the MLA arranged the funds from?’ Raghav asked, without
looking up from his diary.

‘No. And I
don’t see why I should know. It is his and his friends’
private wealth.’

‘Are you aware
of Shukla’s involvement in the Ganga Action Plan scam?’
he said.

‘No, Raghav. I
don’t want to comment on anything other than GangaTech. If you
have all the information, we can end the interview.’

Raghav put away his
pen. ‘I’m sorry. Yes, I am done. Don’t worry, I
will do a balanced piece.’

‘Thanks, I
will see you out.’

We walked together
to the campus gate. He had come on an old scooter that belonged to
his dad.

‘I could have
sent my car to pick you up,’ I said. ‘It is too hot.’

‘It’s
fine. I have to go to many places,’ he said and put his helmet
on.

‘Do you miss
engineering?’ I said, my first general question to him. ‘Not
really. Never became one, I guess,’ he said.

I felt the time was
right to deliver my final punch. ‘You are from BHU. You’d
look great on our faculty list. Want to join?’ I said. Yes, I
could hire him. BHU may not have taken me, but I could take their
graduates.

‘Me? Faculty?
No way. Besides, I have a job,’ he said and sat on the scooter.

‘You don’t
have to come much. Help me with the inspections, and maybe come once
a week,’ I said.

He was about to
start his scooter, but stopped midway. He mulled over my words.

‘We pay well.
Maybe more than your newspaper,’ I added.

He smiled and shook
his head.

‘Why not?’
I said, irked by his easy rejection.

‘I can’t
be part of a corrupt enterprise,’ he said.

‘
What?

‘It is
Shukla’s college.’

‘It is mine,’
I protested.

‘I know you
will run it, but he is behind it, right?’

‘So? How can
you call us corrupt? We haven’t even opened yet.’

‘It’s
built with money made by corrupt practices’

‘I have worked
my ass off for three years, Raghav. Three years, Sundays included.
How can you make a statement like that?’

‘He is accused
of stealing twenty crores from the Ganga Action Plan. Government
money meant to clean our river.’

‘It is an
accusation. Not proven,’ I said.

‘Right after
that he made many property investments, including this college. Can’t
believe you didn’t see through it. How can a politician have so
much money? He comes from a humble background.’

‘Can you prove
wrongdoing?’ I said.

‘Not yet. But
are you sure he didn’t do anything?’ he queried.

I couldn’t
control myself anymore. ‘You are jealous,’ I said.

‘What?’

‘You are
jealous that I am doing well. I am not supposed to do well, right?
After all, my AIEEE rank was lower than yours. Isn’t it, Mr
JEE?’

‘Easy, buddy.
This is not personal,’ he said and kick-started his scooter.

‘Then what is
it, Mr Reporter?’

‘It’s my
job to figure out the truth, that’s all.’

Before I could
respond, he zoomed off. He left behind a cloud of dust that stung my
eyes more than anything ever had in the past year.

                                                          ♦

The day of the AICTE
inspection felt like an exam day. Our faculty of twenty reached the
campus at 8:00 a.m. Sweepers scrubbed the floors till the last
minute. The IT specialist ensured that the desktops in the computer
room worked. We had arranged a dinner at Taj Ganga for the inspection
committee. Shukla-ji had promised me he’d come, but backed out
at the last
min
ute due to an urgent rural visit. Sweat beads
formed on my forehead. I made the fifth trip to the campus gate to
check if the inspectors had arrived yet.

‘Stand
straight,’ I hollered at the security guard, ‘and salute
all guests.’

‘Relax,
Director Gopal,’ Dean Shrivastava said, ‘I will handle
them.’ They arrived only at eleven. Ashok Sharma, our
junior-most faculty member, waited with bouquets at the main building
entrance.

The head of the
inspection committee shook my hand. ‘I am Jhule Yadav,
ex-professor from NIT Delhi.’

‘I am Gopal
Mishra, promoter and director of the college. Meet Dean Shrivastava,
ex-director of NIT Allahabad,’ I said.

Yadav and
Shrivastava exchanged glances, sizing each other up like boxers in a
ring. We walked to my office and sat down on the new sofas that smelt
of varnish.

‘NIT
Allahabad?’ Yadav asked. ‘You had a Barua in Electrical?
He went to Stanford later.’

‘Yes’
Shrivastava said, ‘I hired him.’

‘Barua was my
student’ Yadav said and slapped his thigh.

Suddenly the lights
went out. Everyone sighed as darkness engulfed us. We had power
supply issues in the nearby villages. We had no electricity for six
hours every afternoon.

‘We have a
generator,’ I said, and went to tell the peon to switch it

on.

The office was
turning stuffy.

‘Should we go
outside?’ said one middle-aged member of the inspection team.

‘Any minute
now, sir,’ I said. The tube-light in my office blinked as power
came back on.

‘How many
lathe machines are there in your machining lab?’ asked an
inspector.

‘Eight,’
Shrivastava said. ‘We will take a round later.’

‘Shrivastava
sir, why walk around in the heat?’ Yadav said.

‘Your team
member asked a question, sir,’ Shrivastava said.

Everyone turned to
the inspector who had asked the lathe machine question. ‘You
are?’ Shrivastava said.

‘Mr Bhansali,’
said the inspector.

‘Mr Bhansali,
why don’t we all move to my office for course-related
questions? Unless you need the promoter.’

‘You look
young,’ Bhansali said to me.

‘I
am
young,’ I said.

‘What are your
qualifications?’ he said.

‘I have built
this college,’ I said, ‘and I have hired the best
faculty.’

‘But...’
Bhansali said as Shrivastava cut him.

‘Let’s
go, sir. I will answer everything,’ Shrivastava said and
escorted them out.

When everyone was
out, Shrivastava came back into my office. ‘Bhansali is new.
The other six won’t say a word. Lunch is coming, right?’

‘Yes, the
caterer is already here,’ I said.

‘Good. And the
packets?’

‘Packets?’

‘Gopal, do I
have to explain it? This is AICTE.’

‘Oh,’ I
said. ‘You mean the envelopes. Of course, I have them ready.’

‘Good. Give it
to them after dessert. How much?’

‘Two for
Yadav, and twenty-five each for the rest?’ I said.