9. Second blow: The Bankruptcy
IN THE BANK
“Sir your account is temporally locked, I am sorry,” replied the bank employee on my request of cash withdrawal.
“What? But how’s that possible. You please check again,” I asked out of surprise. He rechecked my account but the result was same.
“Sorry sir, it has been deactivated temporally. You can talk to the manager if you wish to,” suggested the bank employee.
When we went to the manager no new result came out. I felt completely devastated. ‘From where would I manage money now?’ ‘What would I tell to Aarti who was eagerly waiting for my call?’ ‘What would she say to that man whom she had promised to arrange money?’ Various questions revolved around my head but I couldn’t answer single of ‘em.
“Faiz do not worry yar. We will find out some solution. Why do you look so worried?” asked Zeeshan to me looking at my worried face.
“You do not understand. I must send money today to Aarti anyhow. She must be waiting for my call,” I replied agitatedly.
“I understand… By the way how much money you need?” he asked me.
“A lot of…” I replied sniggering at him.
“Tell me how much. Maybe I can help,” he said.
“20 lakhs,” I replied as instantly his mouth opened wide.
“Whoa! It’s really ‘a lot of’ money. I can manage some though,” he said.
“How much?” I asked him anxiously.
“Well I will have to see, may be around Rs50, 000 or little more,” he replied apprehensively.
“It’s not sufficient. It’s not sufficient. Damn!” I reiterated hitting hard on the table in frustration.
“Maybe I can arrange more from friends but I cannot assure you man. I am sorry,” he said expressing his limitations.
“O.K you manage the utmost you can. And don’t worry your money will be returned. I assure,” I said to assure him.
“Shut up! Man and lets go,” he said and we left to arrange some more money. Time was passing so quickly and I was feeling helpless. I had never even in dreams imagined that I would run short of money someday and that too when I’ve promised to lend it to somebody. Damn! It was so disgraceful.
Zeeshan was doing the best he could. We moved from friends to relatives and anyone who could help. But it was all proving to be worthless. In the mean time I thought to inform Aarti so I rang her.
“Hello…” she said picking up the phone.
“Hello Aarti. It’s me Faizan,” I said to her.
“Faizan where are you? I was so worried about you,” she said surprisingly.
“I am sorry I didn’t phone you earlier. I got so busy in here. Listen it’s about the money…,” I replied to her.
“What about it? Have you arranged the money? Is everything fine? The man is still waiting for you to return with the money. Please make it quick. The girl does not have enough time. You understand na…” she asked so many questions and was so hopeful that I could not tell her the truth.
“Yes, everything is fine. Do not worry. I have the money. It will just take some more time to finish few legal works before I get the money. So do not worry, okay!” I said trying to convince her.
“What legal procedure? Is everything okay? Tell me please,” she asked worryingly.
“Everything is fine. Believe me. You just take care of yourself. I will be back soon. I promise,” I told her.
“Okay. Come soon I am waiting,” see said sweetly.
“Okay listen I have to go somewhere. I will call you later. I miss you. Bye!” I said to her.
“Bye!” she replied.
All her hopes were relied upon me. How could I break her hopes? I had to look for alternatives, arrange money from wherever it was possible at any cost. Zeeshan was trying his best but it was just not enough. And time? It was dropping like sand from my hand.
In the process we met an another friend of us. Someone who was going to be a ‘real friend’ for a long time in the run. Rameshwar Dayal Saxena, we called him ‘Duple’ generally because he always was a second choice in every field, every matter. Long hairs, and high power spectacles and old fashioned outfits. A fatty with heavy voice and a muffler round his neck. Unique of his own kind he was a nightmare for the girls of our college. Perhaps any college. But still a friend to rely upon and lovable in the gang. This was the short description of our dear ‘Duple’, friend of the friends and enemy of the enemies.
It already had been dusk. Duple was the last man we could hope something from. So we moved to his apartment and Zeeshan told him the entire story.
“Duple now you are the last hope. Don’t deny,” said Zeeshan.
“I am not denying man and come on friends are always meant to help each other but I have only Rs20000 in my account. That is what I am trying to say,” said Duple rubbing his hands.
“That is not enough. Just not enough,” I reiterated to express my frustration to situation.
“Don’t worry champ. We will find some another way and Duple that is great amount. It will help,” said Zeeshan.
“The ATM is nearby. I am going to take out the money. Don’t go anywhere,” said Duple and went out to take out the money.
“Damn. It’s already dusk and what we have collected is equal to a penny before that big amount,” I said to Zeeshan.
It was actually Zeeshan who gave impetus to the funding and it was me who was acting like a kid and making things tougher. Duple came with the money few minutes later. We counted the total money collected. It summed to be about 1.2lakhs i.e. very less. We all sat down and were disappointed with the ongoing.
“Why don’t you ask help from the MLAs? I mean the party members of your father’s political party? Won’t they help you?” asked Duple.
His question was correct but I was a very shy kind of guy and very often showed up before Abbu’s friends. When I had left for Saharabad the idea had already came in my mind but somewhere I myself did felt it uncomfortable to ask any such help from them. Moreover I never liked them because they were very unfriendly and political kind of guy.
“I don’t think they will help. Moreover I have no information about them after the riots. So I do not think it’s a good idea,” I said to keep my view and hide my stupid excuse to them. Both of them looked at each other and then looked at me. Their eyes wanted me to act rather than making excuses at such time.
“Faizan, you are not trying to understand. We are just students and have little money to help but they, they are big politician, and so such amount is very small for them,” said Duple pushing me to go forward for it.
“And also, you have a kind of relationship to them. I mean you are no stranger to them. They know you since your birth. I think you should try once. What you say?” said Zeeshan trying to speak same thing Duple did.
I knew that they were right but it was not easy for me. I had to ask for millions of rupees from those people whom I had never liked to talk. I always ignored them and the worst thing was that they knew it. I was of no use to them. I could not speak in public nor could I bluff. In short, I could not continue the legacy of my father in politics. Moreover, I knew when they would come to know what purpose I am asking money for then they would simply disagree to recognize me. You know politicians never donate, they invest. But then, huh! It was a matter of a small child. And so I somehow dealt with my personal weaknesses and decided to meet them.
Duple told me that an MLA of my father’s party lived nearby and still sometime comes to the town maybe once or twice in a week. His name was Saddam ul Haque. I knew him. Quite well too. Now you can calculate the generosity of the cruel destiny it had been showering upon me by the fact that he was the most niggard kind of person known in the whole party. And his impish behavior? Oh! It used to be so embarrassing to tolerate it. And look; now I had to ask that scrooge an aid of 20 lakhs. Huh!
Nevertheless, we moved to his house and luckily he was available there. After a little argument with the watchman we settled him for 1000 rupees. Yeah bribe, of course, as we were dealing with a watchman of a politician it was like a meeting fees, like any doctor charges for his appointments. It is so absurd that during elections it is these politicians who visit door to door of common people houses where as post elections meeting the same person become as tough as to meet a film superstar. And the poster of a ‘humble’ man with hands joined together suddenly changes to a poster of a ‘proud’ man posing as if he has won a great war and now he is the emperor of the city.
Somehow when we met him nothing surprising happened as I had expected. When he saw me he behaved as if he doesn’t recognize me. And when I told him that we need some money this was his reaction-
“What? What do you mean by ‘I need some money’? Do I look like a bank khan Saab? (To Suber Khan, his P.A standing aside him) Say?” he asked to us impishly.
It was already known to us and in my view we were simply wasting our time. But before we could say something else Saddam ul Haque stood up from his place and said that he had to leave then and he really left. We kept sitting like stupid for a minute there feeling very disrespected.