Shape of the Sun

Schemes against the motley crew

He couldn't believe what he was reading. Vicky flipped through the newspaper pages, more rigorously this time, as if that would make the headline that he wanted to see miraculously appear out front. And it wasn't the lone ranger, because scattered all over his desk were today's copies of other newspapers and even tabloids. He'd even bought the tabloids that he hated so much because they reminded him of his ex-wife.

So why was not even one reporting Manmeet's name as the architect helming the prime ministry's renovation project? A friend from the inside had told him that she was definitely the recommended one, and all he had to do was to sit and watch Manmeet take Arora to the skies. It was smooth sailing, he had been assured. So where the hell did this Rishi Gupta come from?

Shit. He felt all kinds of shit.

However, that didn't push him to call Manmeet. She was pregnant and didn't need such stress. Even though he knew that she might have already been aware since the TV stations had aired the announcement earlier in the day, Vicky, similar to his instruction to everyone else, had a tacit understanding not to disturb her during this delicate period of her life.

But he'd be sorry for his friend and partner for so many years if he took this lying down. Vicky wasn't keen on anything that stood in Arora's way, and he knew that Manmeet was well aware of this. He'd be an idiot not to suspect they had been outed.

"Shiv, get in here quickly!" he yelled for his assistant, a frail-looking man, who hurried upon hearing his boss' voice. When standing in front of Vicky, his eyes were downcast, fingers being fiddled with like he could do no wrong. But that wasn't fooling anyone, let alone Vicky. This Shiv was a perpetual troublemaker, assisting Mishra to cause chaos all over the office.

And now he needed him to do what he knew best, to create some trouble. He wanted him to go big and go home.

"Boss, do you need anything?"

"Yes. Call all the newspapers that we know. Tell them we have explosive news about some corruption concerning the renovation project." he quickly added, "Have them leave out any names."

Even with all his supposedly high mental fortitude, Shiv was shocked at this instruction, his eyes going wide like saucers.

"Boss?" Wouldn't this be too overkill?

Vicky sneered at his reaction. This was nothing to him, afterall, he knew for a fact that Manmeet was the most qualified out of all the submitted candidates, so something or someone else had to be at play here.

That reminded him. Arora had a backer, perhaps the greatest of them all.

"Call Mr. Reddy's secretary. Inform him of our plans, and don't leave anything out."

************************************************************************

When one had no legs, he'd wish that he had them so that he could walk. But when one had them, he'd be pissed that he had no shoes. And for those that had shoes, they would complain that it was, for instance, made of cloth. They would prefer leather, real ones, not faux pas. Most absurdly, those that could afford those expensive animal leather shoes had the ability to complain. They were killing the animals and endangering the earth. They wanted to throw them away to show their stance and might revert to fancy, printed cloth since they were more environmentally conscious.

It was a vivid example of how priorities changed with position. And even Bhairav Singh Reddy, exempt as he made himself be from a lot of things, wasn't immune to this. Just like he had taught himself to read when he first got to the city, he hired a golf instructor for himself when he had enough money to spend and enough leisure to learn.