“Mr. Rajesh Patil,” said the Branch Manager over the phone, “we would like you to come over to the branch today for some discussions.”

The man at the other end twirled his moustache and replied, “Okay.  3 pm then.”

Rajesh turned up exactly at 3 pm.

“Tell me, Soham, why did you call me?” he asked the Branch Manager.

Soham put his pen aside and looked up.

“Rajeshji, you had taken a loan of Rs.10 crores from us to set up a brewery that never came up.  We were to take legal action against you for defrauding the bank, but you managed a stay order against it. 

“As you are aware, the order expired last week and wasn’t extended.  We have now decided to recover our dues by selling the 20 acres of land you had mortgaged to us.”

Rajesh gave a calm smile.  “Go ahead;  you won’t get anything....is that all?”

“Yes.  Here’s the notice.  Please acknowledge on the office copy and receive it.”

Rajesh scrawled an impatient signature on the office copy and left, carrying the letter with him.  He knew the bank wouldn’t get anything.  Soham would realise it soon.

Soham did realise very soon that the bank wouldn’t get anything, but for a different reason.

***

Krish was overjoyed.  He had finally landed a job.  And exactly what he wanted.

Krish was the only child of his parents and it was obvious that they wanted him to make it big in life.  However, he was an average student who just about managed to scrape through to the next grade every year.

Over the years, his parents had accepted that he was not made to be a doctor or an engineer.

But Krish always had it in his mind that he had to prove his worth to his parents.  The rote system of education was not for him.  He wanted quick money.  He wanted to move his parents from their dilapidated suburban Mumbai chawl to their own house in South Mumbai, from using a common toilet to having their own private bath. 

His graduation was a day of celebration for his parents, who arranged a small get together of close friends for the occasion.  It was here that their father’s close friend referred to the common entrance test for bankers.

“My son just got into a public sector bank as a Scale I officer,” he said.   “Works only seven hours a day.  But the pay and perks are good.  Your son can start here and then move towards better prospects after some years.”

As expected, Krish scraped through the test, managed to clear the interview and got appointed as a Scale I officer in National Bank, which was the lowest ranked bank in the public sector.

Krish was posted at a local branch and handled the routine operations, which meant passing receipts and payments, managing a perennially huge crowd and resolving endless complaints of service delays.

Over the years, he was posted at several branches in the city in the same line of work.  Every now and then, he kept trying to get into bigger banks with better pay scales, but couldn’t make it.

He achieved one thing, though.  He finally shifted his family out of the chawl, into a matchbox-sized 1 BHK in the distant suburbs.  But obviously, he wanted more.  He wanted that sprawling 2000 square feet apartment on the top floor of the upcoming 20-storey high-rise at the swanky New Cuffe Parade in South Mumbai, which came with its own garden and swimming pool.

In the meantime, his parents arranged his marriage with Malti, a barely-educated girl from their community, who was brought up to follow her husband in everything he did.  Krish was disappointed;  he had wanted a working girl to add to the family income, but his parents found that independent women were all smart and outgoing and didn’t want to spend their lives with an average man like Krish.

And then came the next change in Krish’ life.

***

One of the first steps to selling off the borrower’s property was to visit the place.  Soham reached the area where the 20-acre plot was located.

The land was demarcated by a fence.  It was bordered on one side by a vast tract of land divided into small, but equal sections.  Some of these sections had bungalows coming up on them, in various stages of construction.  On the other side was another large plot of land, partly barren and partly covered by trees and bushes.

“These are bungalow plots,” explained a local.  “Builders are chasing Rajesh Patil to sell his land to create some more bungalow plots.  He’s playing hard-to-get, to increase the price.”

They reached the plot of land.  In the middle of the wild grass was a board that announced:

“This is the property of AK Builders.”

“He’s already sold this property.”  Soham was surprised.  But the original papers were with the bank!  How could this happen?”

***

In the next few years, banking expanded from the traditional accepting-deposits-and-giving-loans to other sectors such as insurance.

Banks now had the freedom to decide their own interest rates for deposits and loans.  This resulted in cut-throat competition among them.

National Bank itself was in the doldrums and resorted to stopping recruitment and expanding their branch network with existing staff.  Krish was transferred to Solapur and posted as Branch Manager.

Krish moved alone, thanks to his father’s ongoing medical treatment.

He was not happy, though.  His perks reduced as he was now out of the metropolitan area.  He knew nothing about lending and his seniors weren’t inclined to train him.  He was given targets to achieve, which he found to be sky-high and impossible.

And then came Rajesh Patil into his life, and changed it forever.

***

Soham called up Rajesh Patil from the site itself.

“Rajesh, how could you sell a plot that is mortgaged to us, that too when the original land documents are in our custody?”

“What?  I didn’t sell it.  What are you talking about?”

“Come and see for yourself.”

Rajesh reached the site an hour later.  He was as shocked as Soham was.

Finally, he found his voice.  “I didn’t do this.  I will look into the matter.”

The next day, Rajesh turned up at the branch with a suited-booted, middle-aged, pot-bellied man.

“He’s Mr. Anil Kumar, proprietor of AK Builders.”

Anil Kumar opened the folder he was carrying and extracted two sale agreements from it.

“This, Sohamjee, is the agreement by which I’d purchased the land.”

Soham observed that the agreement was executed between Anil Kumar and one Anita Dongre.  Anil Kumar opened the second agreement.

“Sale deed by which Anita Dongre purchased the land.  From Rajesh Patil.”

Soham was dumbstruck.  He took the agreements in his hand and examined them closely.  He couldn’t find anything amiss.

“They’re fake,” said Rajesh.  We checked Aadhar and PAN cards.”

Soham looked closely at the photograph of Anita Dongre.  The photo was grainy on the identification documents and also on the sale agreements.  She had the appearance of a traditional village woman, with a serious face, sindoor on her forehead, mangalsutra on her neck and the saree pallu over her head.  Her signature was a semi-literate scrawl in Devnagari.  She could be anyone out of millions.

Soham asked Anil.  “You must have met her.  What else do you know about her?”

“Sir, she looks exactly like in the photographs, as ordinary as a million others.  It was a broker who dealt with me.  A heavily bearded man with long hair which might have been fake.  The woman appeared only for the registration and didn’t speak a word.”

“The broker is indeed fake,” interrupted Rajesh.  “Anilbhai had been to the address mentioned in the visiting card and the office was open.  We went over there today and found it locked.  Neighbouring shopowners said it had been sporadically kept open, just for a couple of weeks.”

“We even met the shop owner who had rented it out,” added Anil.  “The broker had taken it as an informal arrangment for a month.  The owner badly needed the money, so there were no lease documents.”

“You’ve checked everything,” muttered Soham.

“Of course, yes.  I want to be re-elected as corporator,” retorted Rajesh.

***

Rajesh Patil approached Krish for a loan of Rs.10 crores to set up a brewery on the outskirts of Solapur City.  He offered the mortgage of 20 acres of agricultural land located near the branch, as security.

“This land is located 10 kilometres from here,” said Rajesh to Krish, “and in an area where builders are buying land, converting them to non-agricultural land and selling them as plots for constructing bungalows.  Because of the demand, the value is high – around rupees thirty to forty thousand an acre.”

Krish verified it and found it to be true.  He felt relieved – this big loan would mean that he met at least one target.

But when he referred to the loan scheme circular, he encountered a hitch.

“Mr. Patil, as per our policy guidelines, agricultural land cannot be mortgaged for a non-agricultural venture.”

The ex-corporator lost his cool.  “What do you mean?  If you do not give me the money, I’ll get you suspended!”

The notoriety of the man was well-known to Krish.  He replied politely, “I’m sorry, Sir, I can’t go against policy.”

“I will talk to your Regional Manager.”  Rajesh stormed out of the branch in  a huff.

Two hours later, Krish’ phone buzzed.  It was the Regional Manager.

“Krish, you must recommend the loan of Rajesh Patil for sanction.  The land he has offered is worth more than the loan amount.”

“But Sir, it violates policy guidelines that say agricultural land cannot be mortgaged for commercial loans.”

“Rajesh is a well-known man with influence.  Give him the money and we’ll ratify your action.  Remember, Krish, you have not achieved any of your targets this year.  If you give this loan, you will achieve one, otherwise you risk suspension for non-performance.”

Krish’ heart missed a beat.  He was now caught between the devil and the deep sea.  He chose the devil.

A day after Krish disbursed the loan, his Regional Manager was suddenly transferred, overnight.  His successor refused to ratify the loan.

That was when Krish realised that he was in deeper trouble than he had expected.

***

Soham decided to notify his Regional Manager.

The RM had only one thing to say, “Call your predecessor.”

***

As the days passed by, every fear of Krish came true.

The brewery didn’t come up.  Rajesh kept saying that permissions were delayed, but there were rumours that he was using the money to provide freebies to the slum dwellers in the area and building up his vote bank.

The loan payments turned overdue and the account was finally classified as a non performing asset as per Reserve Bank of India norms.

Things moved quickly thereafter.  Officials from the Vigilance Department of his bank descended upon his branch and conducted a staff accountability exercise.

A week later, Krish received a chargesheet, which alleged that he had exceeded his powers and mortgaged agricultural land for a non-agricultural loan.

Then the hearings began.  Despite Krish’ pleas that he was let down by his Regional Office, he was held guilty, stripped of two increments and declared ineligible for promotion for the next five years.

Krish was devastated.  He simply couldn’t come to terms with the fact that he was horribly let down by those very people who were supposed to support him.

After a couple of months and a lot of counselling by his parents, Krish recovered enough to continue his search for another job.

And this time, he hit the jackpot.

He landed the job of senior officer at a prestigious foreign bank, with a fat pay and perks that one could only dream of.

Krish saw his dream of a New Cuffe Parade home coming closer to realisation.  To his delight, he found that he would be eligible for a housing loan to cover the astronomical cost of Rs.6 crores for the apartment, as soon as he joined.  He booked the flat by selling his wife’s jewellery and raising the Rs.50 lakhs required for down payment.

He then submitted his resignation to National Bank.

The next blow came quicker than anticipated.

His bank refused his resignation because the case of Rajesh Patil was not completely closed.  The money had to be recovered.

Krish had tried several times to make the borrower pay and knew it was futile.  He knew the man was capable of harming his family if pressurized to pay.  The builder refused to return his down payment.  His parents were unaware of his transactions and he couldn’t face them now.

Even as he was wondering how to come out of this predicament, he was suddenly transferred to a remote rural area. 

Krish realised that whatever little chance he had of recovering the loan amount, was now lost as he was moving far away.

He handed over his cash keys and rode his bike towards the highway.  He stopped at a bridge over a river.

There was no one around.  The river was swollen because of the rains and the current was strong.

Krish placed his bag and mobile phone on his bike, climbed over the fence to the edge and jumped.

His body’s survival instinct immediately kicked in and he thrashed around, swallowing water and gasping for breath.  The last thing he remembered was hearing another splash in the water before everything turned blank.

Krish woke up to find himself on a mat on the floor in a little hut.  Even as he wondered how he reached there, a kind looking middle aged man in rustic clothes hobbled in, with a limp on his left leg.

“Why did you jump in?”  He came straight to the point.

Krish found himself pouring out all his woes, even as the man listened patiently.  At the end of the narration, Krish felt light like never before.

The man spoke.  “Son, why should you end your life for this?  Think of your parents and wife.”  The man wiped a tear.  “My son jumped into the river last year.  I should know.”

Krish was taken aback.  No, he wouldn’t cause this kind of grief to his family. 

Krish thanked the man and left.  The man smiled.  He knew that Krish would be unable to find out that he did not have any son.

***

It took Soham a while to find Krish’ number and call him.

Krish was surprised to hear the news.  Nevertheless, he arrived at his old branch the next day, to be greeted by the Vigilance team, once again.

Krish was questioned for two long hours.  “I know nothing,” was his only response.

The bank filed a case against Rajesh Patil and sent a letter to the Registrar office.

The reply that came, shocked everyone.  The land was forest land and had to be surrendered to the Government.

The tables turned.  Rajesh Patil was arrested for fraud.

Krish completed his term and was moved back to Mumbai.

***

It was the Griha Pravesh ceremony of Krish’ new house at New Cuffe Parade.

Among the immediate family members and close friends, were two men.  One was middle-aged, with a slight limp on his left leg.  The other was tall and lean and completely bald and clean-shaven.

When Krish saw them arrive, his mind went over the events of that fateful day when he had been fished out of the river.

While taking leave of his rescuer, the man had whispered to him.  “Give it back to them, son.  Show them what you are.”

It had taken him three days to figure out how.

His next stop was in one of the shady lanes near Chor Bazar.  Someone there owed him a favour for saving his life.  It was time to encash it.

He knocked on the door of a tin shed, which served as a makeshift office.  It was opened by a tall man with a bald pate.

“I need your help.”  Krish looked around at the dozens of identity cards, passports and rubber stamps lying around.  The tiny room also had a copier, inks, brushes and a lamination facility, along with myriad items Krish could not identify.

“Yes, I owe you one.  Tell me.”

The bald man was all ears as Krish showed him an original sale agreement and gave him a photograph of his wife.

The bald man took a hard look at the picture of the serious-looking woman with a pallu over her head.

“Make it sufficiently grainy so that it looks like a million others.  And yes, I also need a broker, if I have to sell it to AK Builders.  They’ll pay anything, even the Rs.6 crores that I want, because they’ve purchased all the land around this plot and desperately need this one too.”

“Done.”

“I also need a broker,”, Krish looked at the collection of wigs and beards on.a nearby table.

“Done.”

Krish introduced the two men to his family as acquaintances who helped him achieve his goal of purchasing the apartment.  ‘A blessing in disguise’ was how he described them.  He didn’t elaborate.  He didn’t want to.  Because some things are best left unsaid.