Free The Bankster (Ravi Subramanian) by Ravi Subramanian

something. Nikhil walked up to them a few times and then went back to talk to his team members, who had assembled there. This happened a couple of times, but Anand ignored it. He thought he was just imagining things.
    Nikhil and Anand returned to their jobs the next day and took turns to meet the parents. A week later, Pranesh’s parents left for Vizag, vowing never to return to the city which had snatched their son away from them. In a month, Pranesh was forgotten and it was business as usual for the Bandra branch. Vikram, who liked to project himself as a messiah, a true leader of people, didn’t bother to meet Pranesh’s parents even once.

7
    Devikulam
    June 2011
    When Krishna Menon walked onto the makeshift wooden dais, in front of him were six thousand people. People from all walks of life had braved the pouring rain to participate in the agitation. There were even a few people from Singur, in West Bengal— people who had successfully taken part in the battle against the acquisition of their land by the state government of Bengal— who had also come to participate in this protest against what they called a unilateral decision by the government. It had taken Menon a lot of courage to organize such a large protest, albeit with the support of three large non government organizations (NGOs).
    Krishna had been working for years to mobilize public support against the project. But for a long time, nothing moved. Despite being the face of the protest, he had struggled to achieve anything of significance. And this had a lot to do with his lack of political acumen. Despite having the desire, not having the requisite financial muscle had been a big deterrent in his ability to take his protest to the next level. Whatever he did with his limited resources had not been successful thus far.
    All that changed the day he met Jayakumar at a congregation of Rotarians. That day, Krishna was standing in a group of five people enjoying his single malt when Jaya walked in. Diminutive and of frail build, clad in a kurta-pyjama, he wandered straight to the other end of the hall and mingled with a few locals. Krishna’s gaze followed him as Jaya went from one person to the other, laughing and joking, at times holding serious conversations. There was something different about him. Something intriguing. His face conveyed an intensity Krishna had never seen before.
    For over ten minutes Krishna tailed this intriguing gentleman, wondering who he was, and that was when he saw Ramadurai, the local political satrap walking towards him. Ramadurai’s right hand was on Jaya’s shoulder and he was dragging him towards Krishna.
    ‘Meet Jayakumar,’ said Ramadurai, as he came within a few feet of Krishna, ‘A person of impeccable values and great commitment to the society at large.’ Krishna smiled out of courtesy. A politician talking of impeccable values was a bit odd. Ignorant of Krishna’s thoughts, Ramadurai continued, ‘Jaya is the founder of CNRI.’ Seeing the blank look on Krishna’s face he turned to his right, looked at Jaya and asked, ‘What’s the full form?’
    ‘Conservation of Natural Resources through Innovative use of Technology. We are an NGO based in Satara. It’s about hundred kilometres from Pune.’ He extended his right hand towards Krishna. His handshake was firm; to Krishna it communicated firmness in purpose.
    ‘Oh, welcome to Devikulam.’ Anyone with a little bit of knowledge of geography would know Satara was a semi-rural place in south-west Maharashtra and to Krishna, Jayakumar hardly looked like someone from that background.
    ‘Jaya, this is Krishna Menon, one of the oldest members of the Devikulam Rotary club. He has a plantation on the outskirts and runs a very popular resort. Lots of foreigners come there. He is a very popular man.’ And he looked at Jaya and added, ‘Not just popular, he is also a very good human being.’
    Krishna was embarrassed. He patted Ramadurai on his back and just