Dead folks tell no tales,” the seeker told the Hermit looking at the Times. “Ask Shivani Bhatnagar who signed her off, and you’ll get no answer. Ask Dewang Mehta why he signed off so early, and you’ll never get to know. Ask Pramod Mahajan...”
“Shubh-shubh bolo,” interrupted the Hermit, “Is Pramod Mahajan dead?”
“And therein lies a story...” said the seeker.
“Now, isn’t that very obvious,” asked the Hermit catching up with the Times. “A jealous brother denied the riches, pumps in three bullets walks down to the cops and confesses his crime. What’s new in that? What’s the news indeed?”
“It’s the twist in the tale,” replied the seeker. “First, somebody pumps in the lead. Next, somebody leads to pump him up... It’s the sign of the Times.”
“Who was Pramod Mahajan?” asked the Hermit.
“Why he was the party’s principal fund-raiser,” said the seeker.
“Oh, I thought he was a national icon,” said the Hermit, raising a brow. “Isn’t that why his tri-colour draped coffin was led into the crematorium for a state funeral with guns full blast? Isn’t that why the nation was witness to 24x7 television opera? Isn’t that why ET had a blank in a picture frame lamenting how difficult it was to fill the ‘void’? Soon there should be a national memorial ... After Raj Ghat, Shanti Van, Vijay Ghat, Shakti Sthal, Vir Bhoomi, Kisan Ghat and Samata Sthal, the Donation Box ...!”
“Icon? He certainly was the face of India Shining,” said the seeker.
“Oh! I see,” said the Hermit, “Is that why his brother lamented to the cops that everyone around him, including his PAs, became rich?”
“Shubh-shubh bolo!” returned the seeker.
“Looks like the party needed him more than he needed the party. That looks good reason why Advani made a grand dash in front of the cameras,” said the Hermit. “Looks like Pramod Mahajan was a very, very rich and powerful man.”
“Media buzz has his net worth at anywhere between Rs 2,000 crore and 10 times that figure. Poor old Om Prakash Chautala looks a poor shadow by comparison,” said the seeker.
“What more do you know?” asked the Hermit.
“Well, he started early in a one-horse town as a schoolmaster and went on to build the party as its CFO,” said the seeker.
“I indeed have a future,” smiled the Hermit.
“He also built himself and his family rather well,” said the seeker. “It’s just that the poor brother got left out.”
“Well, is that so,” asked the Hermit.
“Looks like,” said the seeker, “except that one paper has it that he even got his brother a Rs 75,000 per month job at Infocomm.”
“Infocomm? That name sounds familiar,” said the Hermit. “What else do you know?”
“Oh yes, there’s more to Infocomm than his brother,” said the seeker. “When the Infocomm brothers themselves got fighting a year ago, one of them shot paper bullets to newspapers pointing to Mahajan’s frontman being gifted one crore Infocomm stocks, at a discounted rate of Re 1 a share. That revelation made headlines... When Infocomm was launched three years ago, Mahajan, then a minister, even danced on stage, holding aloft a replica stamp of the Infocomm founder.”
“Looks like Mahajan was not only powerful, he had good connections,” said the Hermit.
“Oh! that he always had,” said the seeker.
“How do you know?” asked the Hermit.
“Once upon a time, when the world hadn’t got to see Mahajan fly, he became a high-flier in the parliamentary committee on civil aviation. That’s when a little bird flew into to tell that Mahajan’s son had flown off to Atlanta to train as a pilot.”
“So, he was a high-flier indeed,” agreed the Hermit.
“Yes, very much a high-flier,” said the seeker. “And in more ways than one.”
“Which other way did he fly?” asked the Hermit.
“Why, when a long grounded private airline changed colours to fly again after changing hands in a Rs 30 crore deal, buzz flew around that the man on the pilot’s seat was none other than ...,” whispered the seeker.
“Shubh-shubh bolo,” said the Hermit biting his tongue.
“So, what do your read of the Times,” the seeker asked the Hermit.
“I see, the Times indeed, they are a-changin’. It’s good to be the centre of attention but be careful not to become an icon.”
“The Times, they are a-changin’ indeed. Where do you come from, where are you headed?” asked the seeker.
The Hermit lifted his loin cloth.
“Bare-bottomed I came to this world, and bare-bottom shall I depart. Neither did I bring anything along when I came into this world, nor will I carry anything back with me.”
Get it?
Got it!
Shubh-shubh bolo!
Back to Essays