By Hemanth Kumar
“Why have you shifted your place to the roadside? I had a
tough time finding you,” said Krishan Lal. If he sounded peevish, he thought it
was justified. He was a long-time customer of barber Gopal and as a journalist
he sometimes found the nonstop chattering of Gopal to be useful for his work
too.
For more than a year now he had cut his own hair clumsily as all trades and businesses shut shop because of COVID-19 scare.
Staying at home was a blessing on that score and on occasional forays to stock up on groceries, he had taken to wearing a baseball cap. “Now that the virus-related regulations are relaxed, I went to your old place on Coconut Avenue and imagine my surprise when I saw an eatery there. Now, tell me what’s happening with you.”Gopal had a lot to tell to bring things au courant.
“Naturally, people stopped going for shaves and haircuts and I could not
sustain. These two years have been really tough for poor people like me. As I
could not afford the rent for my shop, I set up here under this tree. Open air
saloon,” Gopal laughed and added, “Free shower provided when it rains!”
Krishan Lal could understand the hardships faced by people
like his favourite barber. Why, he himself was feeling shaky. The owner of the
small local newspaper, where Krishan Lal worked, had fired many employees and
shifted the newspaper’s office was from the rented place to one room in his
bungalow. The paper was making a loss, and it needed frequent scoops and
sensational exposures to boost circulation, he said. He wouldn’t hesitate to
close it down if things did not improve. He had several far more profitable
businesses and was adept at keeping local politicians on his side.
“Did you see the new business opposite my old place?” Gopal
was saying. “Tip top grooming center and spa. Unisex. Haircuts, shaves,
pedicure, manicure, massages, the works. All these served up by young girls
from north-east.” How can he compete there, even if he could afford rent for
the old place, Gopal said and winked, “lots of men need massages often in these
stressed times.”
What Gopal said gave Krishan Lal an idea. As soon as he went
home, he set the ball rolling. Luckily, the girl who’d helped him in the past
was free. Briefed on what was needed, she infiltrated the spa and delivered the
goods after some weeks. Photographic evidence of nefarious things going on.
Some politicians and VIPs appearing on many of those photos.
The girl singled out one man, “See this man with bushy beard? He is the owner,
but he travels on a humble moped!” “That’s a little strange, isn’t it?” asked
Krishan Lal and received the reply: “I heard he is the front man for a benami
business and every Friday evening he meets the real owner to handover the
week’s takings.”
“It’s a good thing you are showing initiative,” the
newspaper owner told Krishan Lal when he went to the bungalow. “However, this
particular scoop unfortunately won’t see the light of day. What? Are you asking
me why? I’m in a good mood and so I’ll answer you. Your expose has politicians
from the ruling party as well as from opposition parties. That won’t do. Go,
get back to work and focus on opposition parties.”
Just as Krishan Lal was thinking of voicing his protest
diplomatically, a servant entered the room to remind the owner that he had one
more person waiting to see him. Krishan Lal sighed and came out. And he saw a
man with a bushy beard, holding a briefcase, going into the room.
THE END
