Monica found it hard to contain her enthusiasm. So much so, she found herself smiling uncontrollably throughout the bus ride. She has been travelling for almost a week. Jumping from one city to another where much of her time was spent either in hotel rooms or a mode of transport. So far, much of her journey was in a bus but she anxiously waited for a chance to jump onto a train or even a plane. She had never really travelled in either of those before.

Speaking of work itself, she had visited three offices and spent about three hours in each. Her duties consisted of checking and making sure the numbers they were putting in the file hadn’t any, to put it in simple words, miscalculations. Far too often, the company found that its offices messed with their numbers, pocketing much of the money they receive and several unrecorded deals to fill their coffers. With the advent of the digital era, record keeping is no more a ‘on the foot’ job. It is a painfully slow process, with many of the companies thirty or so offices are resisting change. Yet overtime, almost all offices are up to date with technology say for the three offices that Monica had to visit.

The management was worried about sending a woman to such tasks. One can never be too sure how the other person might react under pressure. Yet, her boss showed a lot of confidence in her. The same confidence that had put her in a precarious situation in the first place. However, Monica was more than happy to oblige. She was strictly instructed to note down any suspicious activities or fudged records and return without engaging with anyone in the office. This was a difficult thing for her to do. She had plenty of experience dealing with bad apples. Yet, when she found evidence of mishandling records, she decided to make a note of them quietly and as promised, didn’t engage with the teams.

Today, however, was different. The company holds goods in small warehouse in several rural locations. One such warehouse is running at deficit. Her job was to find out why and resolve the matter, if possible. Monica had no idea what to expect for this was her first time she is dealing with something other than numbers. That is one of the many reasons why she loved maths. Numbers never lied.

***

The small town of Karnole was about an hour ride from the closest city. Is sat at the heart of a Ryoti of villages. It acted as the mini hub of trade to these villages. Monica’s bus ride consisted of an hour-long journey through the lush green countryside. It was a sight to behold. She remembered seeing large swathes of land covered in farms at the edge of the town she lived in. having spent over a year in the city, it felt good returning back to the simpler life. She had a big, awkward smile on her face as she quietly admired the scenery outside the window of the bus.

The never-ending greenery lined the road. Old, gargantuan trees to small young saplings. Large farmlands of paddy and corn to small patches of grape farms. The smell of earth and manure, most of which was coming from inside the bus, gave Monica a pleasant experience. The bus, however, was crowded with people. Had she not boarded before it left the deport, she would have never found herself a seat. An elderly lady sat next to her with a big basket of edible leaves. Her skin looked sun baked while her body appeared thin and dry. She constantly chewed onto something, the sound of which irritated Monica, but having heard it for the past hour, she had gotten used to it.

***

The bus slowly entered the town, weaving its way through traffic. When the conductor called out the name of the town she was supposed to disembark at, she quickly got up on her feet and began to tiptoe her way through the packed the bus. The bus came to screeching halt just as she reached the door where she saw a sizable crowd of people waiting to board the bus. The people at the door seemingly moved as one big group. Monica felt herself being lifted and tossed out the bus along with the people who just disembarked. Seconds later she found herself outside on the roadside where a crowd just moments ago. She looked back to see that most of them had already boarded the bus with a few squeezing themselves in. Though she herself lived in a town, crammed country buses were still a new experience for her. She immediately pulled up her hand back and began to go through the content to make sure she did lose any. She hadn’t.

She sighed in relief and began to look around the place. She stood a juncture where the road split into two. The bus took the road to its left and sailed on. The roadside was littered with small shops with trees cutting between them every now and then. Small groups of crowds could be seen travelling along the side of the road, which was mostly covered in sand and stone. The roads were clear of traffic and noise, the air was clean and breezy. It felt refreshing.

The directions to the office were clear, on reaching a crossroads, choose the path to your right and continue along the road. Just as you see the road open up into a bustling square, stop and turn your right. A narrow path tucked between two building will be visible. At the end of this path sits a small godown and you will reach your destination. Monica did as instructed, crossing the two lane road, she turn to her left and began to walk along the specified road. It was a pretty long walk, for by the time she reached the bustling square, the crossroads where she had started was out of sight.

The market square wasn’t all that busy. There were rows of shops, mostly made of a table, to keeps goods on, under tent made of rags. Much of the shops sold vegetables of various kinds, from fruits to flowers, whatever that could be grown on a farm. The road cut into the square between two tents. She stopped a few feet away from the square and looked to her right to see a row of small building lining the street. Retracing her steps, her eyes scanned for the narrow alleyway which she eventually found. It was guarded by a giant steel gate that was open at the moment. A truck rolled out from inside the alley before turning right and driving towards the crossroads. She spotted a few workers going about their work as one of them seemed to be carrying a sack of goods on his shoulders as he disappeared behind the gate.

She crossed the road and made her way into the alley, at the end of which stood a decent sized warehouse. It stood only two stories tall and didn’t stretch far. The workers, covered in dusty rags, went about their business while a man, dressed in a clean, ironed, checkered shirt and khakee pant stood before the warehouse instructing them.

He looked at Monica with his yellowed eyes and asked, “who are you?”

“My name is Monica. Dinesh has sent me.”

“Ah!” he said in response, “sent you to check the last days of business as he?”

“No,” she said as walked to him, “I am here to see what the problem is and resolve it.”

“Then he should have sent someone else.”

“Why is that?” she questioned, she eyes locked on to him with her lips twisted at the ends to make a slight frown. He looked at her serious face and broke a smile.

“Had breakfast?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Come on. Let’s talk as we eat.”

***

He put the cigarette between his lips and was about to light it when he was rudely interrupted.

“No, no. None of that in front of me,” Monica said.

He rolled his eyes before tucking away the cigarette back into his chest pocket. He had bought himself a plate of two idlys, each the size of a coaster, while Monica decided to indulge in a plate of poha.

The hotel was quite small. There were only three tables, one of which was occupied by the two of them while the rest remained empty. It wasn’t a busy day.

“Shekar, is it?” Monica asked.

“Yeah.”

“So, what is the issue?”

“You ever watch movies?”

Monica was visibly confused. “Yes…”

“You have seen those where each village has a zamindar who is a pain to every villager? Well, we have a nutcase sitting on our heads too.”

Monica didn’t reply, she instead quietly munched on a spoonful of poha as she listened to his story.

“He and his father have ruled this town and entire ryoti for ages. And right now, he is the reason for your company’s losses.”

“How exactly is he doing that?”

“He controls what comes into and goes out of this place. Back in the day his father drained the people of their blood but his son realized more money can be made from commerce. He was right and now is looting the merchants here blind.”

Monica felt a sneaking suspicion that he was simply narrating a movie’s story to her. “How the hell does he have the power to that?”

“When you know people in the capital, you can do things that are outright illegal.”

She quietly nodded. “And what exactly is it doing to our business?”

“Nobody will buy your goods because it is simply too expensive. See, this man has realized that there is more money to be made in commerce…”

She knew what he was about to say but that didn’t mean she found it believable. “Don’t tell me he is taxing them.”

He smiled cockily and replied, “you are a sharp one.”

She had heard stories but assumed such practices died out with time, she couldn’t have been more wrong. “How is he taxing people?”

“Bribe a person here, make an under the table deal there… it is very simple actually.”

She simply sighed rolling her eyes.

“Influence is everything,” he concluded.

“Yeah… I get it. How much is he taxing?” she asked.

“Just a few Rupai per item.” In this country, an average working man earns around a hundred Rupai a day. Monica, however, earns a thousand Rupai a day. She is considered a middle-class employee. “And for these people, every Rupai counts.”

She nodded silently, wondering what was going to be thrown her way next.

***

“That is pretty much the situation,” Monica said to the person on the other end of the line as she concluded her report. She heard a dull sigh on the other side and that pretty much summed up her feelings.

“Did he say anything else?” Dinesh asked.

“He gave us two ways out, one we pay tax on the goods rather than passing it down, or...” she paused for a moment, praying he wouldn’t pick this option, “cut a deal with the… zamindar.”

There was a pause on the other end. Her heart began to race. She knew what the best option was, but she didn’t want to do the job of talking to the zamindar herself.

“Well,” Dinesh started, “we don’t have much of an option. You go back to your room. I will send someone over.”

She suddenly felt her chest lighten up, as though a heavy burden was lifted off her shoulders, but just as quickly it grew cold. “No. I will do it,” she replied.

“Seriously?” Dinesh asked.

“Yeah. That is a part of my job, right?”

“No Monica. We have no idea who or how this man is. It is too dangerous.”

Monica, however, was least worried about the danger for she knew she can handle anyone with malicious intent. It was the formalities, however, that worried her the most. Cooperate speak and trade dealings weren’t her cup of tea. She liked to keep things simple in her life. But now it seemed to have become a part of this job and trying to avoid it felt wrong. “I doubt he can man-handle a woman in broad daylight.”

“I am still not convinced.”

“Just hold on a second,” she said and put the phone down. turned to Shekar. “Think we can cut a deal with him?” she asked him.

“We can give a try,” he replied.

She returned to the call, “Shekar will accompany me.”

He paused for a moment and replied, “fine. But try not to go overboard. You know the numbers; I hope you find the sweet spot.”

“I am going to do my best. I will let you know how it goes.”

“Sure… and Monica. If things go south, tuck tail and get out of there,” he said as his final piece of advice.

“I will,” she replied and cut the call.

Shekar, who had been patiently listening to her all this while, approached her as she cut the call and asked, “what deal are you planning on proposing?”

“Firstly, I want to know what kind of a person we are dealing with,” she replied.

“To be honest, even I am not sure. From what I have heard, there is one thing that might help us. He is an incredibly gullible person. He has a habit of believing whatever the other person says. But then again, it is a rumour I heard.”

“Honestly, I do not know how to use that information,” she replied.

***

The three wheeled auto huffed and puffed as it rode along the thin metalled road that twisted and turned through acres of green paddy fields. Monica watched the endless miles of greener with a smile. She could spot farmers scattered across the field like tiny puppets as they go about their daily chores.

“Never seen the village side before?” Shekar asked, having noticed Monica constantly gazing outside.

“I did but from afar. I grew up in a town and then moved to a big city, so farms are something I rarely see.”

“It is just like how we from the village look at their buildings, these kids from the city look at our fields,” the nosy driver commented.

Monica joyfully snickered at his comment and said, “that is true. We don’t get to see such green in our big grey cities.”

She heard squabbling. Her sharp senses let her heard things even with though much of it was drowned out by the rumbling of the auto engine. Just then, they drove past a hut, made of bricks and mud that sunk deep into the crops around it. Three men stood the door and seemed to be arguing about something. They could hear them, just not make out what they were arguing about.

“What is happening there?” Monica asked.

“That is Jagan. His father had left him and his wife this land, but he also had it mortgaged to a loan lender years ago. They paid the loans over time, but the loan lender cheated them by selling the documents for the land to Devraj (zamindar). his father passed away recently, and Devraj is taking advantage of it and is trying to snatch the land away,” the driver said. He pretty much knew everyone here in this village and all other eleven villages in the Ryoti.

“Oh god. It is pretty much game over for him,” Shekar replied.

“Yeah. He can squabble. But eventually he will have to give up the land or his life,” the driver replied.

Monica remained silent. She knew what was happening was illegal, but knew she could do nothing about it, so even commenting on it felt as if it was a waste of her breath.

She looked ahead and saw the road open up. Up ahead, she noticed a small tan coloured house sitting at the side of the road. The closer they got to it, the bigger and bigger it grew. As they closed in, its size grew to a point where it was big enough to stretch a football field. It wasn’t a hut or a house, but a mansion, painted in tan. It was two stories tall and was surround by large empty land where men where shuffling about as they went about their work.

The auto slowed down as it approached their building before taking a right onto a gravel road that lined the entrance to the mansion. It came to a stop a few feet away from the gate.

“This is it,” Shekar said as he got down. Monica followed him out He turned to the driver and said, “stay here. It won’t be long.”

They walked up to the gate which stood almost twelve feet tall and wide enough for two trucks to pass though side by side. One of the gates opened slightly as a few workers exited the building. Along with them, a man dressed in neat white shirt and pant followed and stopped before the two visitors.

“What do you want?” he asked. He looked old. His hair was grey while much of it lining his forehead had faded away. His wore thick and round spectacles and he seemed to be missing a few teeth.

“We wanted to meet with sir,” Shekar asked.

“For what business?” he asked.

“This… woman here is from the city and wanted to do business in the town.”

He silently looked at Monica through his thick glasses, glancing at her strong stance. She was about as tall as he was. “Who is she?” he asked as he turned back to Shekar.

“Her name in Monica. She has come from the city. Her company sells goods here and she has a good deal for sir.”

“Good for him or you?” he asked politely. He left out a hearty laughter and said, “no matter what he makes, it is a profit. Try to bargain as much as you can.” He patted on Monica’s back and continued to walk past them and into the field. The two looked at each other’s face, one was confused, and the other was grinning slightly.

“Now you know what you are dealing with?” he asked her.

“I guess. Let’s get this done.”

They walked through, what at that moment felt like, gates of hell.

***

The front yard stretched the width of the mansion while there was a good thirty feet between the gate and the front door. A cement tiled pathway ran from the gate to door and an almond tree sat right in middle of it, blanketing the pathway. Behind it was a small but sacred Tulsi plant held in square pot that stood about four feet off the ground. On either side of the pathway, workers went about their day loading and unloading sacks of various size. Much of it was grain from Devraj’s own farm that stretched acres around his mansion. The doorway opened into a courtyard inside the mansion. Monica did not want to step anywhere inside the house.

They stopped before the door just as a man exited the mansion. He was massive in size, standing six feet tall, but also had an enormous belly to fit his personality. He was much fairer in complexion compared to his workers or even Shekar. His hair had already strands of grey hair with no signs of balding. It was complemented by a bushy moustache and beard. He wore a blue checked shirt and white lungi which he had folded up to his waist, exposing his knees.

“Namaste, Devraj Garu,” Shekar humbly greeted him. His frown did not disappear as his eyes shifted to Monica.

Her heart jumped to her throat, but her body remained calm. She clapped her hands together and gently bowed and said, “namaste.”

“Who is she?” he asked.

“This girl is from the city. She has a deal for you to look at,” Shekar replied.

He nodded gently, still frowning before walking off to his right. “Come,” he instructed them.

They followed him to a sofa set tucked away beside the door. It was protected from the harsh weather by a sloping roof above. He sat on the only single seat sofa while the two them sat down on the much large 3-seater before him.

“Tell me. Which company you work for?” he asked Monica.

She was about to answer him but was interrupted by Shekar, who appeared to be more nervous than her. “She works for R.K…”

He put his palm up in the air, instructing him to stop. “Let girl speak.”

“I work for R.K.” she replied in a soft voice.

He nodded before replying, “never heard of it.”

“We… still operate in cities. A small company,” she replied humbly, even though it wasn’t.

“So, what is it that you want to offer?” he asked.

This time Monica took the initiative and spoke. She took her sweet time explaining everything, what kind of goods they sell to how they could work out a deal benefiting both of them. The two men were very impressed by her knowledge while Monica was surprised not one comment was thrown at her being a woman. Eventually, the two reached an agreement with Devraj giving his approval with a slight nod. The two of them breathed easy with a soft smile.

Just as they seemed to be out of the fray, fate decided to push them into the fire. Loud squabbling suddenly appeared behind them at the gate. Looking back, they saw Jagan fighting with Devraj’s men. Devraj immediately got up from his seat and walked out, his eyes were furrowed and red with rage. He cursed Jagan loudly, his voice causing Monica’s heart to shiver.

“You asshole!” Jagan cursed. “Think you can cheat me out of my own land?”

“Cheat?” Devraj repeated before laughing out loud, “when you took back the documents, did you even have the brain to check if they were original. Shut your mouth and empty the land or my men will come in the evening and burn it all down.”

“Ask them to come, let me see how they will burn the place down. I know a friend in city. One case is all it takes you to drag to court!” Jagan warned.

“Get lost,” Devraj replied. He turned to his men and said, “if he doesn’t leave by five, burn his house and farm to the ground… and get those two out of here.”

Monica’s jaw dropped to the floor. She leaned forward to protest as Devraj made his way back into the mansion, but Shekar stopped her by grabbing onto her shoulder. She looked back to see him shaking his head. Her shoulder sank to the floor as she looked down at the floor, defeated.

They walked out the gate and towards the auto when they heard a familiar, yet annoying, voice call out to them. Looking up they saw the old man, who had so kindly greeted them on arriving, walking towards them.

“How did it go?” he asked.

“What can we say. We reached an agreement, but Jagan started a squabble and now we are returning home empty handed,” Shekar explained.

“I thought so. He is very fickle but don’t worry. Come back tomorrow, when he has calmed down,” the old man replied.

Monica’s face brightened up again on hearing that, but he quickly cut her celebration short. “That depends on how it goes down today evening. I suggest you say your prayers tonight,” he completed.