Financial thriller: Mini Balachandran fights an aggressive takeover bid of her father’s company

Problems started raising their heads one by one. Vinayan had very little money to invest. A maximum of fifty thousand rupees. If only he had a project report and an idea related to the schemes aligned with a bank’s goals, he might get a loan. But the bank would demand a mortgage. The only asset that remained was the house inherited by his mother. Vinayan decided against it. No question of appealing to Amma again for a signature!

Another issue was that Vinayan was not an expert in any sector. For scions of traditional business families, there wasn’t any need to search for a particular business area. Unlike them, Vinayan had no legacy in any business field. He had certain firm beliefs about right and wrong, that was all. And a few khadi clothes.

In the beginning, quite unsure of the way ahead, Vinayan had discussions with many friends. Many of them gave great advice. However, for every suggestion, there was a non-negotiable requirement: Money. Cash for expenditure, until the business turned successful.

Vinayan got a transport contract with a semi-governmental organisation for three months. It involved procuring rice and pulses from Maharashtra and Andhra Pradesh. He was supposed to transport the merchandise to the warehouses of different towns in Kerala. It all seemed very simple.

Vinayan deposited twenty thousand at the firm. The concerned officer demanded an additional five thousand rupees. A “tradition”. Vinayan promised to give him the money after the assignment was over. He was reluctantly given the contract, but with a warning: “Don’t cheat us, please!”

Three loads of rice from Nellore district. The first had to be unloaded at Muvattupuzha, the second at Shoranur, the last at Alappuzha.

There were agents in all the places, ready to help. Lorries, drivers and exact quotes. But they all needed an advance payment. All the papers were intact, as per the law.

Just one problem. Vinayan would be solely responsible from the moment of loading the lorries at the Nellore rice mill until the acknowledgement receipt was handed over at the godown in Kerala. It was not the sender’s or the recipient’s responsibility.

Vinayan tried to ensure the lorry and the material. But it was disclosed that only an owner could insure the vehicle. The rates, even then, were abysmally high.

“It’s just a matter of four or five days. No accident is likely to happen. Nobody ever bothers to insure. Why reduce the profit margins? Unless one takes risks, money won’t come.” The Tamilian who arranged the lorries gave him this advice.

“Shouldn’t I accompany the vehicle?”

“But there are three vehicles! Even if you don’t go along, it will be fine. Nobody is going to cheat you. We are all businessmen. If we start defrauding one another, who shall entrust us with projects in future?”

Vinayan gave it some thought. “That is true,” he said.

After ensuring the lorries were loaded, Vinayan returned home by train.

Vinayan planned to make a profit of fifteen thousand rupees. In the next round, he aimed to employ six lorries. Afterwards ten, then twenty … Eventually, he aimed to buy his own lorries.

Vinayan’s drivers did not cheat him – God did.

One of the lorries ended up hitting a jeep. One man died and two were injured. The natives stopped the lorry. The driver and helper fled for their lives.

Vinayan got the news two days later.

When he reached the location, the villagers, cops, the owners of the lorry and the jeep, the relatives of the dead man and those of the injured, all pounced on him vengefully. They unanimously decided that Vinayan was the main culprit.

They mobbed him with demands for money. For the police. For the hospital. For helping the driver and the helper. For unloading the lorry. For loading it. For the dead man’s family.

The cops seized the lorry. It took Vinayan ten days to get the vehicle and material freed.

Every resource he had, and whatever he could borrow, was soon exhausted. By the time the material reached the warehouses, they found a major discrepancy in weight. Finally, every issue was settled. But Vinayan’s payments were not released. Apparently, an enquiry would take place first. The officer informed Vinayan that he could take up new contracts under a false name. No issues!

Vinayan became incensed. Even if he received the full dues from the firm, he would end up with a loss of ten thousand rupees! And now, as per their new terms, to even receive the justified payment would entail months of waiting.

Until then? Who should he blame? Every rupee was gone. To get the deposit amount back, he should fulfil all the obligations of the present contract.

The officer who had granted him the contract advised him: “Brother, don’t mistake me. If you’d given the five thousand that I’d asked for, everything would have gone smoothly.”

“How?”

“Our blessings would have been there, right? Now you’re all alone. Every sarkari file has certain traditions associated with it. Brother, we will give you fresh work contracts. Just bring in the five thousand for the first project and whatever is due for the second assignment. You can soon rake in profits, forgetting about the temporary loss.”

“But I don’t have any money left.”

“That’s an issue. What is the point of venturing into a business without enough money?”

Vinayan returned home, rather embittered.

His first business venture. A single throw of the dice, and all the money had been wiped out! What had gone wrong?

Nothing actually.

But nothing had turned out right either.

Three days later, Vinayan bumped into a friend unexpectedly near the west entrance of a temple in Ernakulam. The sun had just set. Suddenly the devotional firecracker offerings inside the temple went off.

Vinayan’s friend said, “It is the hour for worshipping the deity with lighted lamps. You won’t be coming, will you?”

Vinayan did not respond. He used to visit temples as a child. Nowadays, he did not feel like it.

Suddenly, he thought, why not?

What had caused the accident in Palakkad was beyond human comprehension. What if that disaster, which had shaken his very bearings, was the wrath of God?

One cannot inveigle God with occasional prayers. He is no fool!

Vinayan stood afar from the sanctum sanctorum. Catching a glimpse of the scintillating lights near the deity, he reverently folded his hands. He stood praying for a while. An inexplicable peace filled him. Moments ticked away.

Excerpted with permission from Ohari, KL Mohana Varma, translated from the Malayalam by Ministhy S, HarperCollins India.