Where Angels Prey (13 page)

Bob displays a more cautious enthusiasm.

“I guess we could be onto something here, but prima facie, all we know is that a certain Pradeep Vangal is the son-in-law of a senior Indian politician, who is also the uncle of one of India’s microfinance messiahs.”

“Are you serious, Bob? Do you actually believe this is nothing more than a coincidence? That this Pradeep Vangal has nothing to do with Tejasvi or Prasad, or that Prasad Kamineni is not in fact trading in the shares of his own company? Insider trading, damn it! That is what this is called.”

Bob looks at him calmly.

“Chan, I am not disputing all that you say. It could all well be true, but what physical proof do we have to nail this? We are only speculating here!”

Chandresh’s eyes flash in anger.

“Okay, so we don’t have hard proof yet. But I’m sure your gut—the famous journalist’s gut—says the same thing that mine does, which is that Prasad has his hand in the cookie jar. In fact, I’d say he’s in it right up to the elbow. As for evidence, we
will
find it. I am not letting this guy get away, Bob. The fraud and deceit lurking behind the veneer of sincerity and commitment...he will have no place to hide before I am done with him!”

Bob sighs.

“All of that sounds great, but how are we going to do this? Where do we begin?”

Chandresh’s phone rings. He looks surprised and then puzzled as he looks at the screen, then quickly takes the call.

Bob can sense the underlying excitement in his voice while Chandresh tries to sound calm and courteous. He ends the call after agreeing to meet the caller the next evening at the Kakatiya Sheraton hotel.

As he turns to face Bob, Chandresh’s expression is a mix of anticipation and pure glee.

“Would you believe it? There we were, breaking our heads over evidence, and here the evidence practically knocks at our door!”

Bob looks at him quizzically.

“That call was from Venkatmurthy, erstwhile CEO of SAMMAAN. He wants to share confidential information with us, on the various misdeeds of Prasad Kamineni!”

Bob looks startled.

“Venkatmurthy is no longer CEO?”

“Apparently not, although the news is not public yet. Clearly he must have locked horns with Prasad...and now he is determined to get his pound of flesh!”

Chandresh smiles broadly.

“We have just had a massive stroke of luck, Mr Westwood. Let me take you to Paradise for a treat!”

Seeing Bob’s puzzled expression, Chandresh starts laughing.

“The shop that serves the best biryani in Hyderabad if not the world!”

Lost in thought, Renuka almost bumps into the teenager running towards her.

“Pinni! Please run and hide...the police are after you!”

The boy, Ramu, is her neighbour, Champa’s son. He has a reputation for being a prankster.

“Go away, Ramu, I have no time for your pranks today. I need to get home before it starts pouring!”

Ramu shakes his head vigorously.

“Pinni, it is not a prank. There is a police jeep and a red beacon car. The cops are looking for you, I swear!”

Renuka is genuinely afraid. Why were the cops looking for her? What had she done? Where could she run and hide? How long could she hide anyway?

Just then, she spots her husband, Krishnaiah cycling towards her.
What was going on?

“Renuka...run quick! They are waiting for you; go as fast as you can!”

He grabs the load of firewood from her head and gives her a gentle push.

“What is happening? Who is waiting?”

“DM Amma is waiting, you idiot. She is sitting inside our house and she wants to meet you. Run along! I will go to the kirana shop on the main road and get some cold drinks.”

Krishnaiah hands over the firewood to Ramu and cycles off.

Renuka runs down the path leading to the village.
Surely
they would not arrest her if DM Amma was their guest?

A bevy of cops stand at the entrance to the lane leading to Renuka’s house. Two jeeps and a car are parked nearby.

Seeing her approach, one of the cops calls out to her.

“Hey, are you Renuka?”

She nods fearfully, her mouth dry from all the running and the fear that the uniform and baton automatically evokes

“Go in quickly, DM Amma and SP Ayya are waiting for you.”

She quickly nods, mops the sweat off her face with the end of her sari, and enters the house. She is astounded by the sight that greets her.

DM Veena Mehra sits on the best (and only) chair in the house, with SP Vishal Singh standing beside her. But that isn’t what has Renuka taken aback. What astounds her is what the DM is doing—reciting a nursery rhyme along with Renuka’s youngest daughter, four-year-old Subbulakshmi, who goes to kindergarten.

The girl spots Renuka and promptly rushes to her side, hugging her legs. Renuka’s older daughters, Gajalakshmi and Varalakshmi, remain seated where they are, by the side of the DM, with their books spread around them.

“Your daughters are very bright, Renuka. I’m impressed!” Renuka beams shyly before looking fearfully at the SP.

“Don’t worry, Renuka, this is just a casual visit. You have nothing to worry about. And SP Vishal Singh is not an ogre; he won’t eat you up!”

Renuka is embarrassed and remains silent.

“I know your name. Do you know mine?”

Before Renuka can answer, one of her daughters pipes up.

“DM Amma!”

Veena laughs and pats the child on the head.

“That is not my name, silly. My name is Veena...Veena Mehra.”

Renuka’s lips try to form the name silently.

“So, Renuka, I belive you are a very famous lady!”

Renuka looks at her in confusion.

“I mean, didn’t you have your picture come out in the newspapers? Along with your—what’s his name—Prasad Kamineni?”

Renuka shakes her head and corrects her.

“Annaiyya!”

“Yes of course, Annaiyya. So how did you like the trip to Mumbai?”

Renuka answers her shyly.

“It was nice, so much bigger than our village! But I missed my family…and my cows.”

Veena and the SP exchange smiles.

“Yes, of course, nothing like home. Tell me, Renuka, why exactly did you go to Mumbai?”

“Bomakka took us. She said there was some meeting. We go sometimes when there are meetings and some big officers come.”

Veena nods. Vishal shoots a question at her in a stern voice.

“It was not just a meeting, was it? Did you know that the company that you hold shares of is a listed company that is worth hundreds of crores?”

Renuka looks at him blankly. Veena gives her a reassuring look.

“I don’t know about all that. Bomakka just told us that it was some meeting…”

“That is fine, Renuka. So tell me, have you been paid any money since the Mumbai meeting?”

Renuka shakes her head in vehement denial.

“I have three more instalments to repay on my current loan. Maybe I will get another loan after that.”

“What about the others? Have you taken loans from the others? DevEx, Aashray…?”

“I repaid another loan six months ago. That was DevEx—it was for building a cow shed. The SAMMAAN loan was to buy a cow.”

Just then, a cop enters the house with Bommakka in tow.

Bommakka, terrified to see the DM and the stern looking SP, dives straight to the DM ’s feet and prostrates herself in supplication.

“Amma, I have not done anything wrong, please don’t send me to jail!”

Veena asks her to get up and assures her that she is not going to be arrested.

“Bommakka, Renuka was just telling us about the Mumbai meeting. What do you remember of it?”

Bommakka gulps before answering in a small voice.

“Amma, I was just asked to identify three or four members from our district to be taken to the meeting. The elders and the men of the village were not happy, but the office people, Nagalakshmi Akka, said everyone will be safe. She also said something about how we were all owners of the new company...how all of us would benefit…”

“But Renuka says she has not got any money after that meeting. So what is this about being owners of the company?”

Vishal adopts the same stern tone that he had used with Renuka and asks about the company and the shares they hold in it. The otherwise bold Bommakka is petrified and answers him between sobs.

“Ayya...I don’t know...even I haven’t got any money. When my niece got married, I desperately needed more money, so I went to Hyderabad to meet Nagalakshmi Akka, but she said I already had two running loans and that she wouldn’t give me any more. I asked her why she had told us we owned the company. She got very angry and shouted at me. I had no choice but to go to a private moneylender. But he shouted at me too, saying that I had ruined his business by taking all the women to SAMMAAN. It was a very difficult time.”

Veena tries to comfort her.

“Okay, Bommakka, stop crying now. Tell me, what about all these instances of suicide? Eight people have committed suicide so far in our district, including that fellow, Ramaiyya of Parichemam village. Are you aware of these things?”

Bommakka nods her head as she responds in a small voice.

“Amma, one of them is my son-in-law’s aunt. We have all been very upset. But we have accepted it as our fate. Nagalakshmi Akka told me that it is all because of our greed. We took too many loans and now we are killing ourselves because we cannot repay them.”

Veena’s eyes flash in anger.

“So why did all of them issue concurrent loans in the first place? Did you not tell them you had already taken loans from others?”

Bommakka shakes her head.

“No, Amma. In our village, we have a weekly schedule. SAMMAAN agents come on Monday, DevEx on Wednesday, and Aashray on Thursday. They decided on this in consultation with each other. Often they even use the same collection agents.”

Vishal turns to her.

“And have they ever threatened you, or anyone else? Coerced or forced you in any way to repay your debts?”

Renuka’s eyes instantly fill up with tears.

“Sir, once I could not pay my instalment on time. I had to pay my children’s school fees. The agents…three men... they came and sat in front of my house and refused to leave. They’d say horrible things to me each time I left the house. My neighbour got very angry with me because a boy’s family was coming to see her daughter the next day and she said it would look very bad if they saw men sitting around like that. So I borrowed the pending amount from my aunt who lives in the next village and repaid them the next day. Only then did the men leave. I felt so ashamed...”

Tears roll down her cheeks as she recalls the humiliation.

At this, Bommakka pipes in.

“Ayya…my relative...she had a daughter…the girl was to be married soon. But she didn’t repay two successive instalments and the agents went to her house and started abusing her publicly. They spoke ill of her family and her character, and because of that, the marriage was cancelled. The girl was heartbroken, and my relative could not bear the shame, so she committed suicide…because she blamed herself for what had happened.”

Bommakka sighs before continuing.

“They had also taken loans for the wedding….and had already spent a lot of that money. She knew she was going to default on the loans, so she thought she would kill herself and maybe that way her family would be spared.”

There is a long silence, before Bommakka speaks again, this time in a low voice.

“I was the one who got her into SAMMAAN. Sometimes I feel like I killed her myself.”

Her mumbled words pierce through the thick silence in the room.

“Bommakka, trust me when I say this—if they say you were greedy for taking multiple loans, they are far greedier. They issued loans to you without giving any thought to your capacity to repay. And then resorting to coercion to get you to pay money that you simply don’t have! For all their talk of altruism, they have behaved worse than loan sharks. They exploited your weakness and, in the process, made far more money than you can even dream of. ...We have to do something about this, and you need to stand with us—all of you. Without your voice, we will be helpless!”

A short silence ensues although the weight of Veena’s impassioned plea hangs heavy in the air. The ringing of Vishal’s phone breaks the silence. He seeks Veena’s permission to take the call.

His conversation ends in just a few seconds, after which he turns to Veena and says in an undertone.

“Ramaiyya’s post-mortem report has come in. The cause of death has been established as asphyxiation...but it also says that the bruises on his body indicate extreme physical torture.”

It was not often that “icons” get taken into custody. Named among the most influential minds in the country, féted by the international and national media alike…yet no one is above the law of the land.

She hands over the arrest warrant to a beaming Vishal.

“All the best, Vishal!”

“Thank you, madam, but for your initiative this would not have happened.”

“We owe it to them—to each of those fifty plus people who have been robbed of their lives, and to the hundreds of thousands of others whose trust has been violated.”

Vishal nods before taking her outstretched hand in a firm grip.

“I will take your leave now. We want to be in Hyderabad before noon.”

He salutes her smartly and strides out of the room.

Veena wonders how Prasad Kamineni will react when he is served with an arrest warrant. She recalls her first meeting with him almost a decade earlier, when both of them had been honoured for their achievements by a citizen’s forum. He had come across as a smooth and charming man, keen to impress her with his vision for financial and social inclusion of the poor. Yet she had been left with a vague feeling of disquiet. After the Krishna crisis, she had begun to question some of the microfinance models that were in place. While their avowed aim was to release the poor from the clutches of usurious money-lenders, many MFIs themselves charged interest rates that were no less exploitative. Moreover, their coercive tactics and blatant flouting of established norms, coupled with the absence of any proper monitoring mechanism had made them even more dangerous than informal moneylenders. The blatant commercialization of the microfinance sector over the last five or six years had only aggravated the existing lacunae in the models.

Subba Rao had also secured an arrest warrant for Kumudini and a police team was on its way from Warangal to apprehend her. Veena hopes the double strike will have a significant impact on the working of the sector. The case of Mylaram Kavala had received state-wide attention; even a national television channel interviewed her hapless daughters as part of a news report on debt-related suicides in the state.

Veena cannot but help feel grateful to Vijaya as well. Despite her personal tragedy, she had worked hard to convince the family of the girl abducted from the village to testify against SAMMAAN. Although they did not yet have enough evidence to act against her husband’s killers, she had kept her side of the bargain. And despite the fact that her husband had been one of the abductors, his death erased any hatred or ill will the family bore towards him. Strangely, they even sympathised with him, possibly because of the goodwill Vijaya herself enjoyed. Whatever their reasoning, they had helped strengthen the case against SAMMAAN. Their testimony, along with those of Bommakka, Renuka and a few others, had meant that a strong case of financial fraud, criminal intimidation and kidnapping could be built against SAMMAAN and Prasad Kamineni, its founder-promoter.

While the police had managed to interrogate Bhava Reddy’s nephew, Chiranjeevi, on the Ramaiyya murder case, they had no strong evidence to proceed against him and his cohorts. They were yet to establish Bhava Reddy’s support to the debt-recovery operations of SAMMAAN and other MFIs. While a few underlings had been rounded up for questioning, there was no breakthrough yet. Veena hopes that they will be able to persuade at least one of the men to testify to the politician’s association with SAMMAAN, and Ramaiyya’s murder in particular.

Feeling satisfied, even if momentarily, Veena goes back to her desk, where a large pile of files awaits her attention. She has hardly begun work when her mobile phone rings. Veena’s face brightens as she sees that the call is from MR.

“Good morning, sir, are you back? I called your office the day before since your phone wasn’t reachable. They told me you were in Delhi. I needed to talk to you about something important...”

“I wish you had, Veena. Then maybe both of us could have been spared this embarrassing conversation.”

Veena feels deflated.

“I’m sorry sir, is there an issue?”

She hears a heavy sigh at the other end.

“What is this joint operation with Subba Rao?”

“Sir, I already mentioned to you that we are collaborating on the issue, since our districts are the worst affected.”

“You told me you were working together to build a strong case, not that you were sending men out to arrest Prasad and Kumudini!”

“Sir, isn’t that the logical conclusion? Given the rising death count and charges of financial fraud and coercion, the move against the head honchos of the MFIs was but inevitable!”

“I wish you had consulted me before issuing the warrant, Veena. I would have saved you the trouble.”

“Sir, I am confused...”

“I have just spoken to Subba Rao and given him the same instructions—call your men back, Veena. Prasad and Kumudini are above the law and cannot be touched.”