December 22, 2011
Another day out. Not technically much out since I spent close to two and a half hours in a cab. Alberto Rosario was the driver.
That is not his real name,but it is along those lines.
We might as well call him Mario Miranda. I'll call him Alberto Rosario after the title character of a recently read Kakkanadan short story. But this Alberto was no pimp like majority of Kakkanadan's characters. He dabbled only in real estate besides driving. And had clear opinions about almost any topic I threw at him.
He picked me up at 7:45 in the morning. He had some difficult finding our home. Possibly because he is from the other end of the district, closer to the rocket launching center at Thumba. The other two passengers in this shared cab for the morning had to be picked up from Kazhakoottam, 20 km away.
As we sped through the bypass, Alberto motor-mouthed. He was excited about the politician representing his constituency though he himself was a card carrying member of the opposition party. "I voted for him, Saare! Look at all the development he brought," he gestured towards the multiple cranes and earth moving equiment kicking up dust already, next to the ship-shaped Infosys building. Hundreds of soldiers of India's young IT army were marching the footpath outside the Technopark. Folks who never left their school backpacks behind.
Apartment complexes aiming for the sky on either side of the smooth highway. "He never says no to any development project. We will keep on to electing him," Alberto continued eulogizing the politician. To add to the glorifying, he presented the contrast with the pathetic state of Thiruvananthapuram city compared to its flourishing outskirts:"See, no more garbage removal in the city from today! Who is to be blamed?! Look at the number of stray dogs one has to dodge while driving!"
Thiruvananthapuram city corporation no longer had garbage removal system working. People at Vilapilshala nearby where the landfill and disposal system was inefficiently working put at end to it. The city will literally stink till alternatives are in place, god knows when that will be!
As if reading my thoughts, Alberto pointed out the irony that the world's largest temple treasure is bleeding the state government's coffers. "How difficult is it for them to make it a museum?! Tourists will come from all over the world to see the antique jewels. Now it is nothing but a job opportunity for hundreds of policemen!"
Half way through the journey, I shifted to the back seat to engage in some technological discussions. Looking at a laptop screen balanced on a lap in the backseat of a car provides real time feedback of the bumpiness of the road. Once in a while, I glance out of the window. We were passing through the lush, green, rural belt that surrounds the glorified village called Thiruvananthapuram.
Jackfruit, mango, teak trees aplenty wherever they can find space between the coconut trees.
Little India crowding outside the village high school sharpening their skills to be recruited to the IT army soon.
As if to illustrate the modular nature of the CFD code that was being discussed, a truck carrying miserable goats squeezed into small wire cages traveled side by side the car for a while.
Alberto was engaging the shotgun passenger in conversation. She was multitasking with a calculator and some account books balanced on her lap.
Meetings all morning. Productive ones for a change.
At 1pm, Alberto Rosario promptly reported to drop me back home. This trip was just going to be us. He let me in on the secrets of his real estate business.
The rise and fall of land prices in different parts of this city of seven hills.
Stories of clients who walk around with big dreams that don't matched their wallets. "People think this is Tamil Nadu and you can get 10 cents of land for a Rupee." Mindful of the dam row, I remained silent.
"Since the new port is coming up, that region is hot in the market now, Saare. Lot of overseas buyers looking to set up resorts. I have landed a 1.5 acre property there facing the ocean. It is 1 lakh per cent." Ah, so Rs 150 crore total, I made the easy calculation.
"I am waiting for the owners to come from London and sign the documents so that I can give them the advance. I am buying it for that guy, Saar, -----" He mentioned a name I wasn't familiar with. Sunglasses couldn't hide my blank stare." You don't know him?! He is the villain in some movies, Saare"
"Villains have that kind of money?" I wondered
"Yes, Saare, it is only villains who have money." Alberto winked while we were waiting for the signal at Peroorkada junction.
"I used work in the Gulf for a body shopping company. At that time, I was approached by some people to convert some black money. The amount itself scared the shit out of me, Saare, so I refused. Rs 2500 crore! That is the kind of money that is regularly flowing out of this country. Why do you think film actors go abroad regularly to conduct shows?"
"Really?" I edged him on.
"Saare, not just film actors! You know that-----" he mentioned a famous spiritual leader, "each trip abroad, hundreds of crores are moved! You know when the government cracked down on all the ashrams and charity trusts couple of years ago...who all came out of the wood work! How can people become devotees of someone named "Gun Swami" or "Bullet Swami"?! Charity trusts are invariably to white wash black money! How will this country progress when the top of the line administrators who zip around in cars with lights and flags contribute the largest to the black money fund abroad?" He summed up as we drove past the Income Tax office of the city expressing his righteous indignation using the horn.
"Once that politician came to our church," he named a politician who had disappeared from the local political scene years ago. "Of course, he had left politics by then. He smiled widely at the congregation and said, 'you all think I am smiling but I am faking it. We politicians have two smiles, when we deliver the fake one, we are thinking to ourselves how easy it is to trick you people'. Now that was a confession, Saare!"
We had reached the Vellayambalam round-about by then. Almost home. "Look how people drive in this roundabout. This kind of chaos won't be seen in any other country. I drove around in the Gulf. Cars would enter one by one and follow the right of way strictly. Here, only might is right!"
I wished him a merry Christmas as we parted. "See you in January, Saare!".
Sure, Alberto, I am sure you will have new juicy information by then about villainous resorts and resourceful villains.
No comments:
Post a Comment