Thakkar looked like the typical Indian-American on Wall Street. Well educated, groomed, and urbane. Indian residents deridingly called them ABCDs—“American-Born Confused Desis,” the word “desi” implying Indian descent. Thakkar’s parents had moved from Delhi to America in the seventies but there were enough family ties in Delhi for him to call it home.
“So, coming back to my question,” said Santosh, “I was wondering whether American clients come to India simply on account of lower prices for procedures or because they are able to obtain vital transplant organs that they would be unable to procure back home.”
Thakkar’s face fell. He recovered quickly, though. He was used to dealing with difficult questions from the press and the regulators. “India has become a preferred destination because of the excellent doctors, modern infrastructure, plentiful and qualified nursing staff, and lower prices. Recent technology upgrades and modernization of facilities have made India’s hospitals very attractive to foreign clients.”
Thakkar’s cell phone began to ring. He looked at the number flashing on the screen. “Excuse me for a minute,” he said, getting up from his chair. “This one is urgent.” He gestured for Santosh to remain seated while he took the call in the adjoining conference room.
Santosh got up as soon as Thakkar left and walked over to the desk phone. Looked at the last call, memorized the number, and then texted Neel to run a trace on it. Then he went back to his chair, sat down, and waited for Thakkar.
“I have just one more question to ask,” he said when Thakkar returned.
“Fire away,” smiled Thakkar.
“Why have you beefed up security in the building? Not frightened, by any chance, are you, Mr. Thakkar?”
The smile slid from Thakkar’s face for good. Shortly afterward, Santosh was shown from the office.
Chapter 58
GALI PARANTHE WALI was a narrow street in the Chandni Chowk area of Delhi that was famous for the multitude of shops selling parathas—or stuffed bread, a culinary favorite of North India.
Nisha found herself in a shop no bigger than a closet, along with one of her college friends, Abha, now a senior columnist for a tabloid. She wrote the lifestyle column.
Abha, a strikingly beautiful Punjabi woman, ordered parathas for both of them without bothering to consult Nisha. They quickly sat down on two of the empty chairs in the shop and waited for their lunch.
Nisha would have preferred to meet at the newspaper’s editorial office but Abha was researching an article on the street food of Delhi and had requested Nisha tag along. Nisha had obliged. Not because she particularly savored the food but because Abha always knew the latest gossip in Delhi. Which businessman was down on his luck, which man or woman was having an extramarital affair, which politician had indulged in an outrageously corrupt deal…there was nothing she wasn’t up to date on.
Their food arrived. Stuffed with potato, peas, and cauliflower, the piping-hot breads were served along with sweet tamarind and mint chutney. Abha tucked in. How does she manage to look so good with all that junk going into her? wondered Nisha.
“What’s the matter?” asked Abha, stuffing another delectable morsel in her mouth with her glossy-pink-nail-polished fingers. “Why aren’t you eating?” Nisha reluctantly took a bite.
Nisha continued nibbling as they chatted. First about themselves, then their kids, and then the entire world. The conversation veered to politics. “What’s happening in Delhi these days?” asked Nisha.
“The Lieutenant Governor is pissed off.”
“Why?” asked Nisha.
“It seems that Chopra’s daughter was engaged to Jai Thakkar, the CEO of that insurance company ResQ. The creep broke off the engagement after a few romps in bed with her.”
“Big deal,” said Nisha, licking tamarind chutney off her fingers. “It’s quite common these days to have terminated affairs and broken engagements.”
“True,” said Abha. “But Chopra is old school. You know, ‘family honor’ and all that. He’s vowed to set Thakkar right. You watch—that Thakkar will get into trouble one of these days. He’s been going around town bad-mouthing Chopra and his daughter. News is that Chopra sent him a chopped-off tongue as warning. I did a little snippet for the paper without mentioning names the other day.”
“Thakkar is quite powerful himself, right?” asked Nisha. “I’m told that ResQ is among the most profitable insurance companies in the States. He was on Guha’s Carrot and Stick the other night.”
“True, but you can’t live in Delhi and piss off the Lieutenant Governor. For the life of me, I can’t understand people these days. And that Ajoy Guha is another thing—he’s like a leech. Once he latches on he doesn’t let go of the story until he’s sucked every drop out.”
“Committed, eh?” offered Nisha.
“He lives for it. I don’t think he has much else. Tragic marriage,” said her friend. “The show is the perfect outlet for him to vent all his frustrations. There are also some pretty unsavory rumors about that new Health Secretary, Amit Roy. So high and mighty, yet the word is that he likes them young…”
Chapter 59
AMIT ROY STOOD in the wings of the school assembly hall, tired after what had been one of the best nights of his life. Images of the terrified girl still vividly played on a loop inside his head and he felt, not just euphoric, but exalted somehow, sensing a change within himself, as though his disconnection from a society that despised his kind was at last complete. What happened to him now was an irrelevance. He was at one with himself.
Oh, but first, there was this rather boring duty to attend to. Prizegiving at the Vasant Valley School. Yawn.
On stage, the principal made his announcement. “We have a special guest with us today. Mr. Amit Roy is the Principal Secretary in Delhi’s Health Department, and he is here to tell you about how each one of you can contribute toward making Delhi a healthier city. Please welcome him with a round of applause.”
Roy walked on, adjusted the microphone to his height, and spoke, his Adam’s apple bouncing. “I am delighted to be here today in order to award the prize for the best essay on the topic ‘Delhi’s Health: Is It Only the Government’s Problem?’ We received over five thousand submissions from across schools in Delhi but the winning one was from Vasant Valley, so you should be very proud of your school.”
He waited for the applause to die down and then spoke briefly about air pollution, availability of clean water, sanitation, and all the other difficulties the country’s capital was still grappling with, and what ordinary folks could possibly do to play a positive role.
“And that brings me to the end of my talk,” he said, eyes scanning the room. “I shall now announce the winner of the state essay competition.”
The children waited with bated breath. After all, the winner was one among them.
“And the winner, for her essay entitled ‘Health Care, Fair and Square?’, is Maya,” said Roy. “Maya Gandhe.”
He stood back as the auditorium erupted in applause, and from the crowd stood Maya Gandhe.
And the moment he saw her, Amit Roy decided this event wasn’t such a drag after all.
Chapter 60