The ‘two rupees’ minister

Reporter’s Diary

Years ago, when I had just transited from active journalism to a corporate role, I was invited to dinner with a Karnataka minister at a prominent club in Bengaluru, ostensibly to discuss a project. But as the evening progressed, it started to become obvious that dinner, or my company’s project, was the last thing on his mind.

As we were digging into our food, the minister said rather matter-of-factly, “I need a small favour from you. Can you give me two rupees?” Two rupees? Being new to the corporate world, I was a little bewildered, only to be educated by the minister that in politico-business parlance, ‘two rupees’ meant Rs 2 crore! I almost fell off my chair. “I have suffered losses in business and am in huge debt. Please convince your management to give me the money,” he said, promising to clear all hurdles in the way of the project my company was undertaking in the state.

My gentle admonition that the media company which I represented also owned a prominent news channel and that making such outlandish demands could land him in trouble had no impact.

Though steeped in debt, he was quite reckless in his spending and often doled out 500-rupee notes as tips to police constables, doormen, drivers, security guards and hangers-on. By now, lenders had grown restive and were hounding the minister. So much so that there were times when he had to be locked up in his chambers in Vidhana Soudha to save him from their wrath.

Given this situation, the minister became even more persistent and made at least 50 calls to me daily from different numbers demanding his ‘two rupees’. Though I would rebuke him each time, it would neither deter nor embarrass him. Ultimately, we did not pay the bribe and I took the easy way out to avoid his calls — I changed my phone number.

On another occasion, enthused by the right noises that Karnataka was making about creating an investor-friendly climate, one of our group CEOs landed in Bengaluru, armed with several proposals. The minister concerned patiently sat through the presentations as the CEO explained how the projects would help the state augment revenue and employment. He expected the government to roll out the red carpet, but what the minister said left him speechless, “What is there in it for me?” That was the first and the last meeting.

However, not all experiences are unpleasant. Bengaluru was a late entrant to the mall culture due to a provision in the Karnataka Cinematography Act that movie theatres cannot be set up on higher floors. A major policy change was required and that usually requires that the minster be ‘taken care of’.

One of our companies was in the multiplex cinema business and I had approached the then Home Minister Mallikarjun Kharge with the problem and had sought a meeting for our CEO. On the appointed day, I excused myself from the meeting after the usual introductions, as I do not involve myself in ‘deals.’

To my surprise, the CEO walked out in less than a minute, and I wondered what had gone wrong. My apprehension was unfounded. “You have saved us crores of rupees,” he beamed. Apparently, in the interim, Kharge had visited other cities to study the mall concept and was convinced that our demand was genuine. He called for the file and approved the amendment to the rules right there, with absolutely no demands. The entire process took no more than five minutes. That is how multiplexes came to Bengaluru.

During my career, I have met politicians of all hues, but none like the ‘two rupees’ minister. Politics is a mixed bag of the good, the bad and the ugly, but some are in a class of their own.