The Hope Factory A Novel - By Lavanya Sankaran Page 0,96

himself against the far wall, along with a row of men similarly engaged.

AND THEN THE SHADOW of the Landbroker appeared at the car window and Anand knew, immediately, that something had gone wrong.

“There is a problem,” the Landbroker said. “One of them is suddenly refusing to sign.”

“Why?”

Little, hot gusts of wind tugged at the Landbroker’s red shirt, which puffed ineffectively in the breeze before sinking back, dispiritedly, plastered against the skin. “I don’t know, sir.”

“Is it a question of more money?”

“I asked, sir. He is not saying yes or no. He is just suddenly saying he will not sign. Perhaps it is more money. I have to find out.”

“Which one is it? Which plot of land?” asked Anand. If it was a side plot, perhaps they could go ahead and complete the purchase without it; it would mean a couple of acres less, but they could manage. The Landbroker shook his head as if he had anticipated Anand’s question.

“It is that one right in the center, saar,” he said, “that eucalyptus grove. Right in the center. We cannot proceed without it. You would get a piece of land like a vada—with a round hole in the center. It belongs to an old man. He is willing to sign, but his son is suddenly saying no …”

“Why?” Anand asked again.

“I don’t know, saar. But, not to worry. Let me talk to them and I will solve it. He is being very stupid.” The Landbroker leaned a hand against the hood of Anand’s car. He seemed to have great difficulty with his next words. “Saar, this will take a day or two for me to sort out. I am so sorry, saar.”

There was nothing to say. Anand could feel the Landbroker’s tension, a physical, palpable thing that coursed through Anand as well. They were finished here for the day. There was no point in completing the purchase of the other pieces of land without the central eucalyptus grove.

The remaining farmers waited—watchful, turned wary by the flood of speculative rumor; the Landbroker walked back to them with a desperately manufactured confidence that insisted nothing was wrong, nothing that could not be easily handled, a small matter, easily resolved, and surely the balance of the registration would proceed apace at the very earliest.

ANAND DROVE STRAIGHT TO the factory in the late afternoon. He had told no one he was coming, but nevertheless it seemed that he was expected.

“I knew,” said Mrs. Padmavati when he walked in. “I knew you would come here first and tell us the good news. I was saying so to Mr. Ananthamurthy, and he also agreed. Is it not so, sir? Just to be prepared, we have kept ready a box of sweets to celebrate. Where is that box, Mr. Kamath? Oh, sir, what?” she said. “What has happened?”

Anand attempted to make sense of things even as he described the events of the day: the registrations that first went smoothly—and then the sudden appearance of the Lok Ayukta, followed by the previously eager farmer who mysteriously refused to sell.

“But why should he rethink? Can it be for more money?”

“I don’t know,” said Anand.

The Lok Ayukta appearance could have been just a coincidence—an unfortunate matter of timing. But the farmer? Was this just a last-minute ploy orchestrated by the Landbroker to get more money? Anand had felt sure that he was trustworthy; had he been mistaken? He recalled the Landbroker’s shame at the end … was he just incompetent?

Cauvery Auto was now the proud possessor of an additional five acres, expensive and utterly insufficient for their needs. Anand handed over the property documents to Mrs. Padmavati to lock away and went to his car. There was work waiting for him at his desk, but he had not the heart for it after the disappointments of the day. He could hear Harry Chinappa’s laughter. I told you so, his father-in-law said. What else did you expect to happen?

AT HOME, HE SEARCHED blindly for his children and found them with his father. “Appa! You’re home early,” said Valmika.

His father chose this day of all days to inquire about his son’s work. “Your land registration went well?”

Anand hesitated, taken aback. “There was some complication.”

His father nodded with a certain sorrowful satisfaction. “Matters of real estate should be left to those who understand such businesses, is it not? They are not for us.”

Anand swallowed the words in his throat and turned to his children. “Do either of you want to come swimming with me?” He