‘Shouldn't the ABNS get into a pre-poll alliance with the ruling party in New Delhi?’ asked Chandini.
‘Of course not!’ exclaimed Gangasagar.
‘Why not? Doesn't the defence minister want it?’
‘Of course he does. But we'll decide later.’
‘Why? Haven't we decided which side we're on?’
‘Of course we have.’
‘And which side is that?’
‘The winning side, my girl, the winning side.’
‘He must have a victory, something that enables him to become the centre of attention,’ said Gangasagar.
‘You mean the defence minister? He's been saying that he has no ambitions to become the prime minister,’ said Chandini.
‘That's not the same as saying he won't allow his name to go forward if he's persuaded by his well-wishers!’
‘The prime minister, the finance minister, the minister for external affairs, the home minister and the defence minister—they are all members of the same ruling party in New Delhi. Why should it matter to us which one eventually wins?’
‘There is one significant reason, Chandini.’
‘And what's that?’
‘Our young tycoon, Somany, has an excellent equation with the defence minister. Remember Majestic Munitions? It's in our interest that our man gets the job.’
‘So you think you can swing the prime minister's job towards the defence minister?’
‘Yes, but he's not seen as a serious contender for the top job. If he's to emerge as an alternative he must do something dramatic, something that gives him instant credibility and recognition.’
‘Like what?’
‘We could ask him to win a war.’
‘Where?’
‘NJ9842.’
‘Never heard of it.’
‘Precisely why it's the perfect location.’
Coordinate NJ9842 was the point from where the boundary dispute between India and Pakistan stretched into the highest battlefield in the world. Both countries’ troops were stationed eyeball to eyeball at a height of over twenty thousand feet above sea level at sub-zero temperatures. The Siachen Glacier—located in the Karakoram mountain range containing some of the highest peaks in the world—was one of the world's most inhospitable regions. Temperatures hovered at around minus forty degrees centigrade and if one's exposed skin touched metal, it would instantly bind as though with crazy glue. The glacier received ten metres of snow annually and blizzards reached one hundred and fifty knots.
Despite having been fitted with five layers of clothing, the defence minister shivered as he stepped off the special AN-32A military aircraft from Leh. A military advanced light helicopter was waiting to fly him to Point Sonam, the world's highest helipad, built by the Indian army. The chopper pilot remained quiet. He didn't wish to scare the minister by telling him that landing a chopper at Point Sonam was a hair-raising experience.
As the shuddering metal beast began its descent on the microscopic helipad perched atop a needle of ice, the rotor blades struggled to extract even minimal lift from the rarefied air. The decision to lower the minister via rope ladder when there was no need to do so was foolish, thought the pilot. But who was he to argue with the intellectual might of the bureaucracy at Sena Bhavan—defence ministry headquarters.
He turned around to look behind. He saw the nervous and bundled-up defence minister shivering, his teeth chattering. The pilot didn't know that the defence minister was cursing his friend—Somany—under his breath as he got ready to descend the rope ladder. The minister didn't know that the idea wasn't Somany's but Gangasagar's.
‘There's no war to be won,’ said Chandini.
‘There's always a war if you look closely enough,’ said Gangasagar.
‘And where are you searching for it?’
‘In the newspapers,’ said Gangasagar.
‘Huh?’
‘The war to be won is on paper—a war of words! Not soldiers fighting! We don't need anything that messy.’
‘I'm still confused.’
‘We'll leak the story that Indian and Pakistani troops stationed in Siachen have exchanged fire.’
‘Have they?’ asked Chandini.
‘They might have,’ answered Gangasagar. ‘We can't be sure that they didn't. Exchange of random fire happens almost every day in Siachen.’
‘You could say that almost anything might be possible, using that particular theory!’
‘Precisely. They might have. They might not have. Who's to say what's the truth?’
‘And then?’
‘We tell Somany to ask the defence minister to visit the Indian troops in Siachen. Wonderful publicity with the minister of defence clambering down a rope ladder from a chopper. The ultimate protector of India's sovereignty and integrity! Superman and Spiderman morphed into one!’
‘And then?’
‘Another leak that the situation was rapidly brought under control as a result of the defence minister's personal initiative to visit the troops and the consequent lifting of their morale.’
‘The newspapers won't fall for it—they'll see it as a publicity stunt.’
‘They'll believe it if a leaked secret report of an American defence think-tank says so.’
‘How will you get an American defence think-tank to say what you want it to?’
‘Majestic Munitions has a stake in Strategic Asia Research Defence—SARD—an American think-tank on Asian military matters. Somany has promised me a SARD report as and when I ask for it.’
‘And the report would be true?’
‘It might be. Who's to say that the Pakistani troops didn't withdraw!’
‘But they never attacked in the first place!’
‘Really? I didn't know that. They might have.’
‘So it's all one big lie?’
‘It might be. But then again, it might not!’
‘So what does Somany want in return for having swung the prime minister's job the defence minister's way?’ asked Chandini.
‘Nothing. He's gained by having his own friend inside South Block. He will now use his newly acquired status to teach his senior partner—Rungta—a lesson,’ replied Gangasagar.
‘And we're fine with that?’
‘In politics there are no permanent friends or enemies.’
‘Uncle Ganga, you shall definitely go to hell when you die!’
‘I'm entirely prepared for that eventuality, dear girl. I shall be delighted to go meet my maker. Luckily for me, my maker doesn't seem to be in a hurry to meet me!’
Chandini was seated at her desk in her spacious office at Lal Bahadur Shastri Bhavan. Gangasagar was sitting on the sofa in the informal corner of her suite. They were watching the news. The anchor was saying:
‘The President of India on Wednesday dissolved the Lok Sabha with immediate effect, paving the way for constitution of the new House, which is expected later this month. The president signed an order to this effect following a recommendation from the new prime minister, the erstwhile minister of defence. Soon after a meeting of the Union Cabinet the prime minister drove to Rashtrapati Bhavan to submit the resignation of his council of ministers to the president in person. The president asked him to continue until a new ministry was formed. The meeting between the president and the prime minister lasted for thirty min—’
Gangasagar switched off the television, cutting the anchor in mid-sentence. ‘The bastard has called for early elections thinking that his newly-won national fame in Siachen will help him personally,’ said Gangasagar.
‘We're ready for the ballot,’ said Chandini. ‘It does not matter that the date has been advanced by six months. We've spent the last two years doing nothing but preparing for this.’
‘Even so, it's now crucial that the early opinion polls put us in the lead in Uttar Pradesh,’ said Gangasagar.
‘We don't control public opinion,’ said Chandini.
‘There's no such thing as public opinion. There's only published opinion and we
must ensure that it's in our favour.’
‘How can we ensure that?’ asked Chandini, ‘Polls are carried out by newspapers and magazines. We don't own them!’
‘Get your own private agency to carry out a poll. Newspapers that are starved for content shall be quite happy to publish the results as long as they can claim that they commissioned the study themselves.’
‘Even so, we can't control the outcome!’
‘Use the conjurer's fourth card.’
‘Huh? What's that?’
‘When a conjurer shuffles the cards and asks you to pick a card, he already knows which card he wants you to pick—and you do, in fact, end up picking the card that he wants you to. Opinion polls are like that. You structure them such that the respondent answers exactly the way you want him to.’
‘But what's the fourth card?’
‘Surveys should be conducted as four-question polls specifically tailored to the subject being interviewed. Never publish the preceding three questions—only the results of the fourth. They're the only answers that are relevant!’
The woman pollster stopped the shopper just as she was exiting the grocery store.
‘Question One: As a woman, do you think our gender has been exploited and discriminated against by men?’
‘Yes.’
‘Question Two: Do you think men have monopolised power to the detriment of women?’
‘Yes.’
‘Question Three: Do you think it's high time a strong woman was at the helm of affairs, not just in the state, but also at the Centre?’
‘Yes.’
‘Question Four: Do I take it that you would be willing to support a bid by Chandini Gupta to give greater representation to women?’
‘Yes.’
The Brahmin interviewer was asking a Brahmin teacher:
‘Question One: As a Brahmin, do you think upper castes have been left uncared for by politicians?’
‘Yes.’
‘Question Two: Do you think reservations in education and employment have resulted in Brahmins being left out from remunerative opportunities?’
‘Yes.’
‘Question Three: Do you believe it's time for someone to speak up for the rights of Brahmins?’
‘Yes.’
‘Question Four: Do I take it that you would be willing to support a bid by Chandini Gupta to give greater voice to Brahmins?’
‘Yes.’
The Dalit survey agent was in the slum. He asked his Dalit subject:
‘Question One: As a Dalit, do you think years of discrimination and untouchability have resulted in Dalits continuing to be inadequately protected?’
‘Yes.’
‘Question Two: Do you think reservations in education and employment need to be increased for scheduled castes and tribes?’
‘Yes.’
‘Question Three: Do you believe it's time for someone to demand greater representation for the Dalits?’
‘Yes.’
‘Question Four: Do I take it you would be willing to support a bid by Chandini Gupta to give greater impetus to Dalit progress?’
‘Yes.’
The young polling executive approached the university student.
‘Question One: As a youngster, do you think the youth of our country have been denied sufficient voice in the future of our nation?’
‘Yes.’
‘Question Two: Do you think the financial security of your generation is being mortgaged by older politicians running up massive deficits?’
‘Yes.’
‘Question Three: Do you believe it's time for the next generation to be in the driver's seat?’
‘Yes.’
‘Question Four: Do I take it you would be willing to support a bid by Chandini Gupta to put the youth of this country in control?’
‘Yes.’
The Muslim interviewer was outside the mosque. Friday prayers had just concluded.
‘Question One: As a Muslim, are you worried about the fact that you're a minority in a Hindu-majority nation?’
‘Yes.’
‘Question Two: Do you believe that successive governments have ignored Muslim progress?’
‘Yes.’
‘Question Three: Do you think it's time for Muslims to elect someone who speaks for them?’
‘Yes.’
‘Question Four: Do I take it you would be willing to support a bid by Chandini Gupta to put Muslim issues on the table?
‘Yes.’
Chandini smiled as she watched the evening news. ‘Earlier this week, the Observer published the results of a CFC opinion poll it commissioned regarding the general mood of Uttar Pradesh voters on the eve of Lok Sabha polls. The survey found that a majority were dissatisfied by government apathy in New Delhi and believed that the ABNS and Chandini Gupta's bid to play a role at the Centre must be supported. This is the first time ever that identical results have been obtained across castes, communities, genders and ages. “An overwhelming majority of the electorate seems to think the ABNS under Chandini Gupta can deliver better results by having a voice at the Centre,” said the CFC spokesman releasing the opinion poll results yesterday.’
‘What kind of agency is CFC?’ Chandini asked her secretary.
‘I have no idea. Shall I check with Menon?’
‘Yes. He would know. Gangasagarji had spearheaded the effort,’ said Chandini.
A few minutes later the secretary entered Chandini's office smiling.
‘I found out the full name of CFC for you. Menon had it.’
‘What is it?’
‘Conjurer's Fourth Card.’
‘I need astrologers like you to predict a massive win for our party,’ explained Gangasagar to the startled man. He had been pulled off the pavement where he sat conning poor suckers into believing that incredible riches, unbelievable good luck, fame and fortune were on the way.
‘I am not famous, sir. No one will believe me,’ pleaded the astrologer.
‘Leave that to me. I have arranged an interview for you today with a prominent newspaper in Lucknow. You need to predict that a cabinet reshuffle is on the way in Uttar Pradesh.’
‘But I don't know that!’
‘Now you do. I'm speaking to the chief minister today and she will ensure that a minor reshuffle happens tomorrow. Unlike your kind, I always avoid prophesying too soon beforehand. It's much better to prophesy after the event has already been ensured. Now, once the reshuffle happens, you shall give another interview.’
‘And what shall I say?’ asked the bewildered man.
‘You shall predict a bumper harvest this year.’
‘But I don't know that!’
‘Now you do. I have a confidential report of the agriculture ministry. The report shall be made public the day after your interview. That's when you shall give your third interview.’
‘And what shall I say then?’ he asked predictably.
‘You shall predict unexpected rains in Allahabad.’
‘But I don't know that!’
‘Yes you do. I have arranged for a small aircraft to seed the clouds over the Ganges with silver iodide. There shall be unexpected showers on the day after your prediction. The press and public shall believe anything and everything you say by then. That's when you shall offer your fourth interview.’
‘And what shall I say during this fourth interview?’
‘You shall predict an overwhelming victory for the ABNS and Chandini.’
‘But I don't know that!’
‘Neither do I, but I hope that your prediction comes true.’
Allahabad, situated at the confluence of the Ganges and Yamuna rivers, was tense. Inside the Old City, revelling Hindu youngsters had thrown alcohol on Muslims. In anger, some ill-advised Muslim boys had left cuts of beef on the steps of the Ganges riverbank. The spark ignited, Allahbad had roared into a frenzy of violence.
The chief minister of Uttar Pradesh—Chandini Gupta—had summoned the new police chief. Chandini wanted to
know what action was being taken by the police to prevent further rioting. Gangasagar sat on one of the visitors’ chairs while the chief occupied the other.
‘The situation is in control, ma'am,’ said the police chief. ‘Three battalions of riot police wearing riot gear marched into the city and used teargas to disperse unruly mobs. They were attacked by stones and bricks but were quickly able to gain control over key areas of the city. Most of the area is in control except for the Old City, where it may take us another few days to restore normalcy.’
‘Deaths or casualties?’ asked Chandini.
‘No deaths, a few casualties though. The toll would have been higher if an anonymous tip-off had not resulted in us sending the battalions into the Old City in advance.’
‘Fear,’ said Gangasagar suddenly changing the direction of the conversation.
‘What was that, sir?’ asked the chief.
‘Fear! We need order to be restored today—not tomorrow or the day after. Create fear. Fear of the law,’ said Gangasagar emphatically.
‘But sir, curfew has been declared and we await your orders for lifting restrictions. We can achieve results without resorting to drastic measures.’
‘Do what I say. I need the chief minister to address a public meeting in Allahabad by tomorrow.’
‘But sir—’
‘I think that the new police chief has done a commendable job, chief minister,’ said Gangasagar smoothly, ‘but sometimes situations like these require an emotional appeal rather than batons and teargas.’
‘Sir, it would not be advisable to visit Allahabad at this moment. It is a powder keg that can explode,’ spluttered the chief.
‘You're there to protect the chief minister, aren't you, chief? Or do we need to search for a new man who can adequately ensure the safety and security of the chief minister when she wishes to meet her beloved citizens?’ asked Gangasagar in almost a whisper.
‘We shall protect her, sir,’ said the police chief as he realised that the decision had been already taken.
‘O beloved people of Prayag—the great city where Brahma offered a sacrifice after creating the world. O favoured citizens of Allahabad—the city renamed by Akbar after his own great new religion, Din-i-Ilahi. O great men and women of Kosambi—the greatest centre of Buddhism. I am honoured to be here among all of you today,’ she said, cleverly addressing the Hindu, Muslim and Buddhist elements of the city. ‘I stand before you today as a shining secular example of a daughter of a Hindu biological father and a Muslim adoptive father. I represent the two great faiths of this land and it is my honest pledge to you that I shall die before allowing anyone to ever split this great nation along religious lines!’ Chandini thundered.