The Hapless Schoolboy
His troubles really began when on one of his numerous trips abroad, in between meetings and lectures on the Indian environment, he barely found time to do a wee bit of shopping. Nothing philistine, only some crystalware, Blue Label and a bit of that irresistible perfume. Heaven knew his position forced him to entertain and his reputation dictated a certain class. And here was this obstreperous customs official, who didnt know a silver spoon from a plastic one, raising an unholy stink. What hurt him most was the lack of civility. As if a few rupees more of customs revenue would have made any difference to the fiscal deficit. What was worse, her friends made him responsible for her routine transfer, as if she had the god given right to get at every ministers incoming baggage.
But the storm passed and all went well until this hawala business blew up. Did an MPs or even a ministers pay take care of so much as his front office? He could have told them about half a dozen more elaborate diaries than those written by the Jains. The hypocrisy of those pinkos from Calcutta (he knew them well) was unbelievable. If they were so keen about bringing every expense to book, what had they done since June to change the election funding rules? Anyway, the ministry was gone but thanks to Rao garu the good missus could step in and keep Chindwara within the family.
Peace descended again but not for long. It was the turn for the PIL wallahs to get after him and the courts to play ball for what happened to Span Resorts in salubrious Manali. What are you supposed to do when a river changes course? Did no one ever string a bandh to tame a wayward river? What did they do to the Ganga at Har-ki-pauri? What else had happened at Manali? A bit of forest land was put in the care of the resort so that the villagers did not ruin the trees. Had any of those fellows ever seen Span Resorts? You couldnt blame them if they hadnt. They couldnt afford it. Its only sin has been to bring in loads of foreign exchange.
But God looks after his flock in mysterious ways. The new good shepherd Kesriji said Chindwara was his to reclaim and old Digs was his exquisite self. Ill do the bandobast, you just come in and keep the oppo at bay, I mean the blokes out to stab me in the back, he said. And what happened? If the plebs werent perverse, he didnt know who were. After all that he had done for Chindwara.
So that is how he spends these dying months of winter, asking, why me? Why did he have to get caught when the others got away. Why did God give him so much of class but a few grey cells less so that he always became the fall guy? Why did even those classy scribes turn against him? Remember Shobha De, how she met him and did this nasty piece miaoing about how he patted and passed his hand over his hair, preening at the non-existing mirror. She had been spending too much time with her inlaws in Calcutta, thats what, and saw images of the chokra boys in his every gesture. That was the unkindest cut of all, being caught in a diddle was one thing, but to have your class questioned!