Bankerupt (Ravi Subramanian) (10 page)

There was silence at the other end. Cirisha could hear the silent hum of the air conditioner. ‘What about Nalin’s farewell?’

‘Could you please manage it without me? In any case he is moving to Boston. I will throw a welcome party for him when he settles down here. I really need to finish my pending work, Adi.’

‘Everything except your husband needs and gets your attention. Right, Cirisha?’ Aditya had never been so cold.

‘The cops screwed up our day yesterday. Today also seems like a washout. I have my work to finish. It has dependencies. There are other people who work together with me on a project. I can’t just dump everything and come. You know that.’

‘If only you show the same commitment towards home and me … Life will be so much better. But what can I say?’ Cirisha didn’t know how to respond. She kept quiet. After a long pause, Aditya spoke again, this time just murmuring, ‘I gave you the dates three months in advance so that you could plan to be here. Nalin has done so much for me. But, it clearly was not to be.’

‘I am sorry, my love. I wanted to be there. But …’ She had not even finished her sentence when Aditya interrupted her. ‘Forget it. Come whenever you want to. I’m feeling sleepy. Let’s talk later.’ And he hung up on her. Cirisha was surprised. A bit shocked too. Aditya had of late started getting worked up at her prolonged absence from India. She called him back. Aditya didn’t pick up her call. After trying thrice she decided to let it cool down before calling him again.

Three days later, Aditya was at the airport to pick her up as usual. The drive from the airport back home was deafening in its silence. Cirisha had never seen Aditya like this. She tried her best to get him to talk. But he didn’t go beyond monosyllabic responses. After parking the car in the basement, he quietly followed Cirisha up to their apartment. Cirisha had a spare key with which she opened the door. The moment she opened the door she was in for a shock. The living room was full of bouquets. Dry wilting flowers that were beginning to rot. She looked at Aditya. He had crossed the living room and stepped out into the balcony.

‘What’s all this, Aditya?’ She found the rotting bouquets a bit strange. The place was beginning to stink. Her emotions were a strange cocktail of anger, frustration and curiosity. She turned to Aditya. ‘Flowers? So many of them? And why are they here?’

No response.

She walked up to the closest bouquet and picked out the card attached to it. ‘Dear Aditya, congratulations! May this be the beginning of a long and successful journey.’ What did that mean? Not able to fathom what that message meant, she walked up to the next bouquet. ‘Hey Adi. Congrats on your promotion to the head of investment banking.’ It was Nalin.

‘Adi!’ she yelled. ‘When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?’

Adi was in the balcony staring vacantly into the darkness. ‘Adi!’ screamed Cirisha. She ran towards the balcony, knocking over a few of the bouquets in the process. Hugging him from behind, she stood in silence for a minute. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Had you been here, I would have told you.’

‘When did you know?’

‘A week back. More than the farewell, I wanted you to be here when they announced it at Nalin’s farewell.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me? I would have made sure I was here.’

‘Let it be.’ And he turned.

‘Adi!’ Cirisha exclaimed. His eyes were red. They had fought often since their courtship days, but this was the first time she had seen him like this. She hugged him tightly in an attempt to calm him down.

‘It’s not about you not being here on this big day, when I received the most important promotion of my life.’

‘Then what is this about, Adi? This was one of the few trips where I have been away for three weeks. Else I always come back in a week, maximum two.’

‘What kind of life are we leading, Cirisha? Either you are getting over your jet lag, or you are preparing to leave. Even when you are here, you are travelling to interior Andhra Pradesh or some other godforsaken place. Is this the life we signed up for when we got married? We have been married for close to five years now and we live like nomads. I have been to the airport to pick you up more times than we have been to a movie together. We have not even thought about when we are going to start a family. We are not getting any younger. We are just living our lives independently, Cirisha. And somewhere our paths overlap, so we end up being together. This worries me.’

The party for Nalin’s farewell and Aditya’s promotion was just a manifestation of a deep-rooted problem that had crept into their relationship. In such situations, Cirisha knew, it was best to keep quiet. And let Aditya vent his frustrations. There was no point rationalizing. She tightened her hug. Aditya hugged her back. ‘I am sorry, my baby. Really sorry,’ Cirisha mumbled, her voice barely audible through the folds of his Tommy Hilfiger shirt.

15

August 2005

Boston

Law enforcement on campus was the responsibility of MIT Police. The chief of MIT Police and his team took care of routine issues. Even though they functioned largely independently, at the highest level they reported to the Boston Police Department.

A homicide team from the Boston Police Department working with the chief of MIT for well over sixty days had checked out all potential suspects. They met with the president of MIT, the dean, members of Siddiqui’s team, the various departments and people whom Siddiqui interacted with on a regular basis, like Deahl and Cardoza. Outside the university, they investigated Siddiqui’s girlfriend, her immediate family, his ex-wife and every conceivable suspect. Everyone had a foolproof alibi.

The cops finally put it down to an isolated incident of robbery on a lonely stretch of road, which had gone horribly wrong.

Three months later, Siddiqui’s death was forgotten. No one was interested in holding the baby. The institute was happy pushing it away and laying the blame on an external party, the ex-wife and girlfriend were not pursuing it as they were worried they’d get embroiled in a legal tangle. Ahmed Siddiqui, a man who fought the battle for many individuals and organizations, died a very lonely death.

16

October 2005

Mumbai–Coimbatore

‘Dad, can you please check if you have received a credit of roughly two crore rupees in your GB2 account? An amount of four hundred thousand dollars was supposed to have come in today.’

Narayanan called Aditya back in fifteen minutes. ‘Yes, Aditya. Credited. They’ve deducted fifty-two dollars as service charge. Remitted by Snuggles Inc.’

‘Great. Thanks, Dad. We’ll figure out what to do with the money later. I just wanted to know if the money has come. We are signing tomorrow.’

On a pleasant Friday afternoon, Snuggles Inc., a global footwear giant, announced that it was buying Step Up Shoes. Aditya was the one who had convinced Snuggles about the relevance of Step Up Shoes to their plan to set up a shoe manufacturing and retailing base in India. Apart from the fees that GB2 made in seeing this transaction through, Aditya negotiated a four-hundred-thousand-dollar payout from Snuggles as lobbying fees for helping them jumpstart their business. Nalin’s moving to Boston had definitely helped close the deal with the Boston-headquartered Snuggles.

As per the terms of negotiation, control of Step Up Shoes was to pass to Snuggles Inc. Anyone who had spent more than two years in the company would not be laid off at least for a period of three years. Shivinder would be retained as CEO with a 5 per cent stake in the company, provided he stayed with the company for the next five years. There was an obvious performance clause linked to it.

It was a win–win deal for everyone. Snuggles had spent thirty crores less than what they had budgeted for. Jigar Shah had got twenty crores more than what he had mentally settled for. Aditya got his payment. Shivinder got to keep his job as well as his equity in the new company. And the employees were secure. Overall, everyone was happy.

Until the first audit committee meeting six months later.

17

March 2006

Tennessee

Gary Barnard listened on. Horror mixed with anger was evident on his face when Christina Friggs told him what she had just seen. Friggs was the section-in-charge of seventh-grade students at the County High School in Jacksboro, Tennessee. Barnard, the principal, was a strict disciplinarian and had set very high standards for his school.

Walking to the side door of his huge, imperialistic principal’s room, he called out to his assistant. ‘Ask Ken Bruce and Jim Lander to come to my room. NOW!’ he yelled. In no time, the two gentlemen were in his room. Both were promptly dispatched to fetch Nicholas Klingman, a seventh-grader from Ms Friggs’s class.

Displaying arrogance unbecoming of someone his age, a supremely confident Nicholas strode into Barnard’s room. The two assistant principals followed.

‘Nicholas Klingman,’ Barnard began, ‘I need to inspect your bag. Is there anything there that you should not be in possession of?’

‘No,’ Nicholas replied smugly.

Barnard looked at Lander and instructed, ‘Can you please take the bag into your custody and do a thorough check?’

‘Is there anything in particular that you are looking for, sir?’ Nicholas was suddenly cagey.

‘Well, yes. Let Mr Lander search your bag and see if what we suspect is true.’

‘Do you mean something like this?’ Nicholas pulled out a small .22 handgun from the bag. From a distance it looked like a toy.

‘Nicholas, please hand over the toy to Mr Lander.’

‘It’s not a toy. It’s real,’ Nicholas growled.

‘OK, Nicholas. Hand over the gun to Mr Lander,’ said Barnard, taking a step towards Nicholas.

‘Wait!’ yelled Nicholas. He pointed the gun towards Barnard and said in a menacing tone, ‘I never liked you anyway.’ He ordered everyone present in the room to line up with their backs against the principal’s table. Then, taking aim at Barnard’s head, he fired the gun. The bullet missed, but the carnage had begun.

By the time it ended and Nicholas was overpowered, Barnard had been hit twice, on his groin and thigh; Bruce was hit below the armpit, the bullet piercing both his lungs and heart. Lander was shot in the back as he tried to wrestle the gun away from Nicholas—the bullet grazed Nicholas’s hand before penetrating Lander’s lung.

The gunshots had by then sparked off chaos in the school. Nobody knew what was going on. Was it a terrorist attack? Was it the security guard’s gun going off? Moments later, an intercom announcement confirmed everyone’s fears. A badly wounded Barnard stumbled up to the intercom, blood dripping from his wounds on the freshly laid carpet. ‘Attention students and teachers! We are now on lockdown.’

Someone called 911, while someone else made a call to the Junior Reserve Officers’ Training Corps (JROTC) instructors. All four wounded, including Nicholas, were taken by helicopter to the Tennessee medical and research centre, where Bruce succumbed to his injuries.

This incident brought alive the debate on America’s gun control, the Second Amendment and its relevance in the current state.