The Hope Factory A Novel - By Lavanya Sankaran Page 0,103
significant sums of money for. They called it the best of Indian art, she and her friends, but to Anand it was hardly Indian; the romantic rural images depicted had nothing to do with the life any of them lived or indeed would want to live; it was all fantasy, like one might see in a film.
Gowdaru-saar noticed the direction of his gaze. “That,” he said, “is a great man. Very great, very great.”
Anand said nothing.
“It is an honor,” said Gowdaru-saar, “to be a member of his party. Like you, I too have a duty, Anand-saar. Is it not our duty, Anand-saar, to elect the best? For years, we have suffered with bad leaders. Now, finally, we have someone who we can respect. Who we can trust. An educated man. A good man. If we do not, right now, do everything we can to see him elected, would we not have failed in our duty? What use is it for me to talk of my love of my people and my village, if I do not guide them properly …
“So, Anand-saar, I know you can help us. You are such an important man, so much wealth in your factory.”
“No, no,” said Anand. “There is no wealth. We are a small company. We are struggling. You have been misinformed.”
“No, saar. You are doing well. After all, you are buying this large piece of land and even more,” said Gowdaru-saar, smiling, “you are buying even more, is it not?”
“What do you mean?” said Anand, puzzled.
“I mean you are buying some land with our good Landbroker here,” said Gowdaru-saar, “and we have heard that you have also met with Mr. Sankleshwar to buy land from him. Such an important man you are.”
“No,” said Anand, “I am not.”
Who else had Harry Chinappa told? And why? Ah, yes, Anand puzzled it out. Not Harry Chinappa at all.
Mr. Sankleshwar.
Anand at last had a gasp of insight: could this be why things had started going wrong with the registration? Somebody had instigated the Lok Ayukta—and somebody had brought him to this political thug’s attention. Who else but Mr. Sankleshwar, who was powerful, ruthless, politically connected, and—thanks to Harry Chinappa—convinced that Anand had wasted his time and, in scheming duplicity, reneged on their agreement and signed this land deal with the Landbroker behind his back?
The realization made him catch his breath in dismay.
If he was being maliciously targeted, then he was possibly headed toward bigger trouble than he imagined. Fucking hell. He glanced at the Landbroker, who was also looking taken aback at Gowdaru-saar’s words; Anand had made no mention of buying land from Sankleshwar.
Anand tried to appear calm, saying firmly: “No, I am not dealing with Mr. Sankleshwar. I am only buying land from our Landbroker here. And really, we are a small company. You have misheard.” He could see the Landbroker trying to assess his truthfulness, nervous, unsure.
“Is that so?” Gowdaru-saar looked tranquil. “But we have heard otherwise from a close friend, saar. It does not matter. But you are not a small company, you are a great success. We have heard. From a very reliable source. We are sure you can help us.
“You see, Anand-saar, I am not asking for money for myself. Myself, I am content to live in a simple way, in the village where I was born, now part of this great city, with my family and my people. But I am asking for money for the party. Because without money, we cannot win the election. And this country needs people like that, is it not?”
Both their gazes shifted to the poster of Vijayan, smiling through the traffic at them in gentle benediction.
twenty-four
THE POSSIBILITY OF NARAYAN BEING influenced by Raghavan so troubled Kamala, it pushed her into making a plan. She would speak to Vidya-ma as soon as she could. No, not for money, for that was futile. Instead, she would ask for leave. For a day or two. That should be sufficient. Since she had not taken even a half day’s leave so far, not for sickness or festival, hopefully Vidya-ma would not think badly of the request.
Her sister-in-law’s letter went through her mind. It was cheerful; scribed by her sister-in-law’s neighbor and read aloud by Narayan, but the important part had stayed clear in Kamala’s memory: that the small store in which her brother had acquired a share seemed to be prospering.
Over the years, she had received numerous offers of help from her sister-in-law, and had been steadfast in refusing