Where Angels Prey (6 page)
From experience, Chandresh knows that anything he says will sound trite under the circumstances. The old man seems to have exhausted his quota of words too. They remain seated in companionable silence for a while, both drawing on their
beedis
almost in tandem.
Chandresh knows the man will be deeply insulted if he offers him money. He was not out to barter his grief for gain. And yet, he feels it would be churlish to walk away with nothing more than a handshake.
“Can I buy you another cup of tea?”
The old man’s eyes twinkle.
“No more tea but maybe I could bum a cigarette off you in return?”
Chandresh’s jaw drops. The sly old fox had known all along!
He sheepishly hands over the pack of cigarettes that he fishes out of his pocket.
The old man smiles at him benignly.
“Please do continue with your efforts. No matter if you don’t always get results.”
As Chandresh offers to shake hands in a final goodbye, the old man shakes his head. He places his hand on his forehead and offers the traditional greeting.
“Lal Salaam!”
ANGA REDDY DISTRICT, ANDHRA PRADESH,
29 SEPTEMBER 2010
More than half a century after India achieved its independence, the practice of bonded labour as a form of modern slavery continues to exist. The economically
backward Ranga Reddy district has always found itself in the eye of this controversy. When news of Veena Mehra assuming office as DM broke, those who knew of her tough stance against all forms of exploitation found reason to celebrate. On her part, immediately upon taking over, she promised to act on an ILO-sponsored report containing 30 bonded labour case studies in the district.
Rajayya’s father had been a bonded labourer too; it was a family tradition. With no fixed or movable assets, the only thing of value he had to pledge at the time of a financial crisis, was the family’s physical labour. Rajayya was first pledged to the landlord at the age of seven for a sum of Rs 25,000 and was given the responsibility of grazing the landlord’s cattle. He was paid a nominal salary of Rs 50 per year. While it took ten years to repay the original loan, the family had taken more loans to pay for weddings, funerals, illnesses and the like, in the interim. As a result, Rajayya was never a free man. Not until the government, in the form of Veena Mehra, intervened, that is!
Watching Rajayya leave her office with his family after repeatedly expressing his gratitude, Veena feels a quite a sense of satisfaction. This feeling is one of the perks of her job, to be revisited every time circumstances or forces beyond her control challenge or frustrate her. The challenges and frustrations definitely outnumber the scattered moments of contentment. Yet, it is the latter that make her efforts seem worthwhile. Despite belonging to what can be described as a privileged, high-caste background, she has always been a firm believer in the universal right to human dignity. After a degree in electronics engineering from the prestigious Indian Institute of Technology (IIT), Bombay, she chose to enter the Indian Administrative Service (IAS), when most of her colleagues were jetting off to foreign shores in pursuit of higher education or other opportunities.
While securing a man’s freedom is a worthy task in itself, it does not completely resolve the problem at hand. The government can exert its authority in releasing those who are in bondage and even punish those who have been oppressing them, but the larger issue of lack of access to resources and the resultant indebtedness remains. With no other resource but their own physical labour from which to eke out a living, the poor are forced to turn to their employers at the time of financial need. The employers, be they landlords, brick kiln or factory owners, make good use of the opportunity to extract cheap labour and keep them bound to them for years at length.
While the government and other agencies have tried to tackle this very need for livelihood opportunities, a steady income source and access to finance in emergencies through a variety of schemes, each of them has had its own share of attendant problems.
Veena’s mind goes back to the call that she had received from the Principal Secretary (Rural Development, GoAP), MR, just a couple of days ago.
“Your favourite bête noire is causing havoc yet again!”
While Veena had an inkling of what he was referring to,
she had wanted to make sure just in case.
“Sir, there are so many of them that I have lost count. Which one are you referring to?”
“You are among the few sincere and straightforward officers we have, Veena. So yes, the bête noires are many. But this one is surely special. This one had you winning a Presidential medal when your opponents were hoping you would be suspended in disgrace!”
Veena could not resist a dry smile, though she knew MR would have no way of seeing her expression.
MR had been referring to the Krishna Crisis
Veena’s grandfather had always teased her saying that she had a penchant for drama. Or, maybe, drama had a penchant for her. She had made her entry into the world on a stormy night, complete with lightning flashes and thunder bolts. Ever since then, things were always happening around her or she was where things were happening. Her first assignment as DM was quite a dramatic one too. Located between the Krishna and the Godavari delta, the Kolleru Lake is the second largest fresh water lake in the state of Andhra Pradesh. Almost 15,000 acres of the lake had been encroached upon by the land mafia. Veena had headed the Kolleru operation, which took on the might of the local heavyweight politicians who were part of the land mafia.
Veena further initiated “Palle Nidra”, an innovative programme that involved making a night halt at villages along with officials and public representatives. It was during one such halt that Veena had come to know certain unsavoury truths regarding the MFIs operating in the area. Truths that led to the ballooning of what has been described as the Krishna crisis. It was a curious case of protectors turning predators. There were three major complaints against the MFIs operating there: one, that they were charging exorbitantly high rates of interest, ranging from 40 to 60 per cent per annum; the second was that they were abusing human rights by detaining relatives of defaulters or suggesting to them that the borrower commit suicide so they could claim the insurance money; and three, that they were creating large-scale rural indebtedness.
Yet another key reason that triggered off the Krishna crisis was the rivalry between the public sector bank-supported SHG Bank linkage programme, funded by an international donor and the Andhra Pradesh government, and the private sector MFIs, funded by robust private sector and foreign banks. Keen to show better results, the MFIs had adopted a variety of underhand and anti-client measures to boost their profits. The spate of suicides was the reason why their unsavoury and illegal activities were exposed, leading to their suspension. Interestingly the suicides, as a consequence of indebtedness, started increasing from 2006, when the state government started encouraging the growth of MFIs as an alternative to public sector banks. MFIs had shown scant regard for the laws of the state while lending to the poor and they often flaunted their certificates of registration with the Federal Banking Regulator to prevent any action by the state government.
During one of her visits to the villages, Veena had met the family of Victoria, who had pledged her ration card and then the
mangalsutra
of her newly married daughter with an MFI in order to meet emergency expenses. This was in gross violation of the FBR norms which prohibited MFIs from taking collateral for the loans provided under the microcredit category. Subsequently, the MFI recovery agents had applied severe pressure on Victoria to make repayments and, finding herself unable to meet their demands, she had committed suicide.
An infuriated Veena had raided the offices of many MFIs in the region, including Aashray, DevEx and Sowmya, among others, and had charged them with collection of higher interest rates, almost to the tune of 40 per cent, and for harassing borrowers. In the process of the raids, they had also unearthed signed blank demand promissory notes at many of their premises.
There was also evidence of Aashray and DevEx, two competing MFIs, indulging in sleazy and underhand tactics in order to undercut each other. Aashray had tried to disrupt the operations of DevEx by plying the husbands of their field staff with liquor. This way, they hoped, the husbands would not allow their wives to perform their roles effectively. When DevEx officers learned of this, they retaliated by supplying the male field staff of Aashray with sex workers. Veena had been left disgusted by the happenings and, more so, by the blatant disregard most of these MFIs had for the welfare of the very clients they were mandated to serve. Following this, she had ordered shut more than fifty branches of the MFIs in the district.
Refusing to be cowed down, the MFIs had launched a counter-offensive against Veena by lodging a complaint against her with the Chief Minister. They alleged that she had behaved in a high-handed manner and had not complied with proper procedures before shutting down their branches. They had also insinuated that she was colluding with the banks to cut them out of the supply chain.
The fight between the MFIs on the one hand and the people and administration of the Krishna district on the other, was of particular consequence because of its possible impact on the course of microfinance elsewhere in the country. For one, just four districts of Andhra (Krishna, West Godavari, Guntur and Prakasam) accounted for about 15 per cent of all micro-loans in the country. The success of the Andhra Pradesh model was what had sold microfinance as an idea to the rest of the country. Many of the MFIs were slowly branching out to other states like Tamil Nadu, Maharashtra and the northern “BIMARU” states—Bihar, Madhya Pradesh, Rajasthan and Uttar Pradesh.
As a consequence of the Krishna crisis, which saw caps on interest rates, loan write-offs and stringent regulations being imposed, the microfinance sector in Andhra experienced a slowdown. Banks, too, were increasingly unwilling to lend to the MFIs as a result. It was around the same time that many private equity and venture capital funds started evincing an interest in investing in microfinance. Wall Street’s entry was undoubtedly seen as a game changer.
Veena was given a clean chit by the enquiry committee set up to investigate the allegations made against her by the MFIs, and was subsequently awarded the President’s Gold Medal for exemplary service. Wherever she was transferred after that, she always kept an ear to the ground for news on the activities of MFIs in the region. It saddened her to see the sector once again possessed by the ghost of suicides as MFIs returned to their old ways of coercion and oversupply of credit. Similar news was pouring in from other districts too, as she found out during her interaction with her peers.
The knock on the door brings Veena to the present.
“Yes, come in!”
Her PA, Nilanjan, enters with a file in hand.
“Madam, we have a detailed report of all the incidents in our district.”
“Five of them, right?”
“Six in all, Madam! There was a suicide reported last night. And there have been two kidnappings, where the daughters of the indebted women have been held captive as a means to coerce them into repaying their debts.”
“Have they been rescued since?”
“The girl from Parichemam village has been rescued, Madam. She was found locked up in an old warehouse about 5 km from the village. The warehouse is said to belong to a local politician whose relative works as a collection agent with SAMMAAN. The police are still trying to find the whereabouts of the other girl.”
Veena is infuriated by this news.
“Scratch the surface of most instances of such exploitation and you find some kind of political sanction! Four years have passed and the sector’s conscience continues to be in hibernation.”
Veena gets up with a start.
“Call the SP and inform him that I am headed to Parichemam. I want to speak to that girl myself. I am not stopping until we get to the bottom of this and gather enough evidence against SAMMAAN. There can be no better time to push for action.”
Veena’s phone rings as she rushes out of the room.
“Good morning, sir!”
“Are you on the job, Veena?”
“You will have a report on your desk in the next half an hour, Sir. I am personally headed to investigate a case of coercion by SAMMAAN. I will get you enough evidence to nail them, Sir. I only hope there is no interference from the higher-ups this time.”
“It might be a little tough to step back this time, Veena. This is no Krishna crisis but rather a crisis for the whole state, with consequences for the nation and beyond.”
It is only when Chandresh walks up to his table and shakes his hand rather vigorously that Bob is convinced that he is for real.
“Bob, I am truly glad to finally meet you in person.”
“Chan, you’ve risen from the dead at last! I have lost count of the number of times I’ve tried calling you.”
“You’ll have to forgive me for that, Bob. The thing is, I have had no network for almost two weeks now. I got back into town just last night and saw your detailed email and travel itinerary. I thought I’d come by and not spoil the surprise with a phone call.”
“Surprise? More like shock! I was wondering if my jetlagged, overwrought mind had conjured you up!”
Chandresh laughs before taking a seat across the table from Bob.
The waiter comes to check if he would like breakfast.
“Why don’t you, Chan? Their spread is pretty good.”
“Thanks Bob, but I’ll pass. No cooked food for me till
lunch. Wouldn’t mind some coffee, though.”
Chandresh orders his coffee. The waiter nods in acknowledgment before hurrying away.
“So, something exciting that you’ve been working on?”, asks Bob.
“Exciting? I am not sure I would use that word. But yes, it was a challenging opportunity.”
Chandresh seems hesitant about divulging details.
“I think I have embarked on a challenging mission too. To verify if all that glitters is indeed gold!”
Chandresh laughs.
“So, is Kamineni the only gold you are after?”
“Not really. Although this journey sort of began with him. I got to meet him at the CIRIG office in Boston last week. And I should be meeting him again in….
Bob looks at his wristwatch before adding,
“...about an hour from now.”
Chandresh raises his eyebrows.
“Of course, the big man will bend over backwards to please you, given the publication you represent. His biggest fans are from your part of the world, after all.”
Bob’s eyes gleam with amusement.
“Do I detect a sour note? I guess you both are not the best of pals?”
Chandresh grins broadly.
“Far from it! But be warned, you may become persona non grata by the time you are done. He used to be ultra polite with me too, in a different life.”
Bob shrugs.
“We’re not here to make friends anyway. So, does that mean you won’t go with me to the SAMMAAN office?”
“Poor Kamineni. Let us not put his diplomatic skills to such great test!”
Chandresh throws back his head and laughs. Just then, his phone rings and he excuses himself to take the call.
Bob drains the coffee from his cup before checking his watch again.
“Come on, let’s go!”
Bob looks up in surprise.
“You mean you’re going with me? I thought you…”
“Breaking news, there has been a fire at the SAMMAAN
office!”
Bob is shocked.
“What are you saying? How did it happen? Was it an accident or some kind of arson?”
“You came here for a soft news story. Looks like you’ll be reporting hard news instead.”
Bob is still befuddled as he follows Chandresh out of the café.
The steel and glass façade of the SAMMAAN office is covered in smoke and soot. The fire brigade has left but one can see the remnants of their efforts in the form of puddles all over the place. The police are having a hard time keeping the jostling media out of the way as experts try to investigate the cause of the tragedy.
For it is now a tragedy that has consumed three lives. Among the dead are a security guard, a junior accountant and Sridevi, executive assistant to Prasad Kamineni. While the accountant was already dead by the time the rescue team broke in, the other two died on the way to the hospital. The cause of death in all three cases appeared to be asphyxiation.
Even as the media try their best to enter the premises and get first-hand information on what has transpired, Prasad Kamineni is seen emerging from the building. The man is clearly distraught and is supported by two of his staff members. As he walks out, the media breaks through the police cordon and surges ahead with mikes and cameras in hand.
Chaos prevails for a few seconds before the police step in to restore order. The journalists, however, are not to be deterred.
“Mr Kamineni, how did the fire break out?”
“Do you suspect arson or foul play?”
“What do you have to say about the deaths?”
Kamineni raises his hand, requesting silence.
“It is my duty to answer all your questions. If I can take them one by one, please? Before that, I would like to say a few words myself.”
The journalists quieten down and wait for Kamineni to continue.
“I do not know what or who caused the fire. That is something that the police investigation will reveal. The culprits, if any, will certainly be brought to book soon. I have made a humble request to the Police Commissioner on the matter. However, whatever may be the cause, I accept complete responsibility for this tragedy on behalf of SAMMAAN. I have personally suffered the loss of three employees, one of whom was practically a sister to me. I am grieving like any other family member would. I want to announce an ex-gratia payment of one million rupees to the families of each of those we have lost. Money can never make up for this loss but I hope it will contribute to the futures of the children they have left behind.”
“Considering the killing he made by selling his shares just ahead of the IPO, he can afford to pay this and more!”
Bob overhears a senior journalist’s remark to one of his colleagues. He turns to look at Chandresh who merely shrugs. Clearly, Kamineni’s remorse, genuine or otherwise, is not cutting ice.
“Mr Kamineni, apparently the fire started around 6 am. What were your executive assistant and the office accountant doing here that early?”
Kamineni looks stricken.
“I am afraid I must take the blame for that. We have an AGM coming up in three days’ time. We were supposed to get a lot of paperwork ready for that. In fact, I was due to join them myself. I was on my way when my car broke down. I called for a cab and was waiting for it to arrive when I was informed about the fire. I rushed here in the first autorickshaw I could find. When I got here, there was nothing to be done.”
“A hollow excuse if ever I have heard one.”
The senior journalist mutters yet again before raising his hand.
“Mr Kamineni, do you think this fire has anything to do with the series of microfinance-related suicides the state has been witnessing? If my sources are right, at least seven of the reported cases were clients of SAMMAAN.”
Kamineni turns sharply towards the journalist. He sees Bob and Chandresh standing beside him. It is gone in the fraction of a second but Bob catches an expression of anger mixed with consternation on Kamineni’s face.
“Sir, both are terrible tragedies. I would not like to link one to the other. Certainly not before the police have had time to investigate. However, with regard to the suicides, I would like to reiterate that SAMMAAN does not resort to arm-twisting or any other illegal debt-recovery practices. If there have been suicides, they have not been the result of any coercive tactics on our part. As we all know, there are around two hundred thousand reported cases of suicide in India every year.”
The police indicate that the media wind up their interrogation. As Kamineni is escorted to his car, he stops to greet Bob and Chandresh.
“I am so sorry we are meeting again under such unfortunate circumstances, Bob.”
“I am really sorry too, Prasad, but accidents happen.”
“Yes Bob, they do.”
Kamineni greets Chandresh.
“Chandresh…”
“Unfortunate thing to have happened, Prasad…I can see how personally you’ve taken it.”
“Of course, I have lost three members of my family today.”
Chandresh nods as he places his hand on Prasad’s shoulder.
Kamineni turns back to Bob.
“Bob, you must excuse me for today. Give me a day or two to get a grip on myself. We can then meet and discuss things at length.”
“Of course, Prasad, you have a lot to attend to now. Please do not worry about me! I am planning to visit various MFIs in different districts of AP to gather a grassroots-level understanding of the state of the sector. We could certainly speak once I return. But, in the meantime, it would be great if your office can facilitate interactions with your staff and clientele across the branches.”
“Certainly, Bob. Just mail us a travel plan in terms of which districts you intend on visiting and when. My office will make sure that you get all the support you need. Have you made arrangements for transport and other things? We would be happy to spare you one of our vehicles, and one of our staff could accompany you too.”
“Very kind of you to offer, Prasad, particularly under the circumstances. But Chandresh is making all the arrangements. We will be travelling together.
Kamineni smiles faintly.
“You have the best possible guide, then. He probably knows more about the grassroots goings-on than any of us. But I am sure you will make your own assessment.”
“Of course, Prasad, we journalists have multiple sources but the ultimate assessment remains ours.”
“But of course.”
Kamineni nods at both men before walking towards his car.
“He does seem visibly disturbed.”
Chandresh shrugs.
“I am still wondering what they were really doing here at daybreak.”
“He did say something about an annual general body meeting.”
“He did. I can even understand the accountant, but why Kamineni’s executive assistant?”
Bob looks at Chandresh contemplatively.
“Yet another question that begs to be answered!”
