Chapter 1:
He stifled a groan when the words blaring from the speakers five feet away from him, made him lose a dozen brain cells per syllable. The speech he had written till late in the morning lay ignored as the darling heir of the party spoke random sentences as much as his half-booze, half-stoned mind allowed him to.
"Arnav, this isn't going too well," Bharadwaj said loudly in Arnav's ears. Arnav rolled his eyes behind Aviators but the snarl he sent in his deputy's direction was well understood.
"We need to prepare for the fallback," Arnav shouted after running through various questions that media would be waiting to bombard their party in few minutes. Thankfully it was a controlled crowd and there was no live coverage. Arnav had decided early on that if Dhananjay was going in front of camera alone, it was best with a smaller crowd as the guy had been unexposed in media till date.
"The panel is already set and are talking to news channels as we speak," Bharadwaj said.
"They are going to get creamed. Run an intervention and get him off the podium. If he resists, tell him his father said so. If he resists further, get the bodyguards to haul his ass over here," Arnav barked the order.
"His bodyguards don't take orders from me," Bharadwaj said.
"That's alright. They only listen to me," Arnav said and walked away from the cheering crowd who had no idea where the country was really at.
Bharadwaj didn't know if he was talking about the bodyguards or the crowd.
*****
The name was akin to a brand. Vikramaditya Rathore was a veteran in politics and founder of the party. A key figure of emerging India, his radical notions brought frowns to industrial sector when he rallied against them during the rapid industrial growth of the seventies. Halfway through his career, he was powerful enough for people not to question the fact that, farmers in his constituency never rose above the poverty line.
Post financial reforms of the early 90s, he supported the government which relaxed foreign trade thus boosting his personal wealth whereas his constituency remained such. Called as one of the strongest political party in the country, he had enough power to swing the government if at all a coalition had to be done.
However the said man was now, livid. He had thrown the glass of tea on television yet the contraption was showing his son's asinine speech through cracked glass. He was glad when Dhananjay stepped off podium almost dragged by his bodyguards. The party secretary took the mike and started badmouthing opposition thus successfully distracting the crowd.
"Get me Arnav. Right now," he barked. His personal aide, Imran, placed a call immediately.
"Sir, the phone is ringing," he said politely handing cellphone to Rathore.
"Who got this idiot drunk and stoned this early in the morning Arnav?" Rathore's voice was calm. He wasn't the one to raise his voice unnecessarily. His demeanor was always calm and poised. But when he did lose his temper, he had the potential to kill a person with his bare hands. And people knew that.
"He was at a party last night, sir." Arnav said. Rathore saw Arnav streaming live on television standing twenty feet away from the party secretary.
"Media is already branding him," the senior politician said softly.
"He will be unbranded by prime time," the response was equally poised.
"See to it that's done," the final order was as expected. Rathore handed the phone back to his secretary when his eldest son, Bhanu Pratap, entered the family room.
"You should have let me go." The voice was gruff. A sweet smell of perfume arrived along with him, making his nocturnal activities quite evident.
"Be home tonight," Rathore said without taking eyes off from television.
"I have places to go to." The rebellious tone was back as soon as the order hit home.
"I will see you at eight," Rathore said and motioned him to leave. Bhanu Pratap left the room wordlessly.
Rathore leaned back on sofa and flipped national news channels. They were all running the same news - Dhananjay and his cockamamie speech.
*****
"How bad is it?" Khushi asked her friend who was watching the news.
The office, the law firm, to be specific was in a spiral. They were premium law practicing house in town with clientele ranging from movie celebrities to snobby and corrupt politicians. A rumor about a scandal about to be made public was keeping everyone on toes. A war room was already being set up and a team of apprentice lawyers, interns, and senior staffs already positioned. The scandal was rumored to shake the country again.
"Dhananjay's speech made him look like an idiot. Look at what this news anchor is saying," her friend replied and winked. Khushi rolled her eyes and removed the blazer. She waved a hasty goodbye to her friend and she sat on the desk and watched the news.
Vikramaditya Rathore was the most premium client of the firm all thanks to the firm partner who was once an activist himself. Saini was well known criminal lawyer whose cases garnered nothing less than national news channels attention. So with that, Dhananjay came for free.
Khushi's father was a well-known corporate lawyer himself before he started his own hedge fund company. These three men travelled in similar circles and though her father never really openly supported the party, she had swallowed hard when a two and half crore cheque was issued in the name of party from her father's company. She wondered if her father would have told her voluntarily as her source of information had come from the bank where the cheque was issued.
"Keerti!" She yelled, not taking her eyes off the television. Keerti, a woman in her mid-thirties, walked in with spunk in her heels. She had been Khushi's secretary since the time Khushi was eligible for one.
"When Arnav is back in town, I should be the first one he meets." Khushi said watching Arnav on screen.
"He looks good," Keerti gushed looking at him dressed in white kurta and blue jeans. A sense of sophistication hung around him and the way he moved made him look like candidate and not just an adviser.
"In the meantime, get me Imran."
"Is it because of the scandal?"
"Just get me a meeting with him, will you?" Khushi said. She jumped from her desk and hesitated.
"Is there something else?" Keerti asked.
"No, nothing. Thank you." She said and ignored the other woman as she scurried outside.
She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing down so that the nerve edges relaxed. Once the heat in her face and neck reduced, she opened her eyes.
She slid open her briefcase and took out a thick file. Bile rose up her throat when the position she was in hit her.
She was defending Dhananjay against three charges of rape and assault. The women had picked themselves up and filed an FIR at a police station which happened to be in a different ward - the one that wasn't friendly with the Rathores.
To be continued.
Edited by RockBarbie - 12 years ago
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