Stuart Temple (Deloitte) and Megan Ritchie (World Bank), held a hurried conference. Shrimaanth Deadly and Get A Sen(se) were meeting with Main Taxing. Of course Main Taxing was their local pimp but one really could not be absolutely sure. He tended to get his head clouded with a whole lot of stuff from a whole lot of people. He was particularly vulnerable to ‘upper caste’ women who gave him ‘gyan’ about poverty and stuff. He did so hate making them sad in anyway. Of course his decisions often didn’t help any of the people these women represented, but still the women themselves left with a warm glow in their hearts and a guilt free beauty sleep.

Get A Sen(se) was  kind of a difficult cookie to deal with. While she enjoyed all the adulation she received, she had a heart string that could be tweaked on rare occasions. Civil society in India was giving her so much adulation now that she could feel comfortable enough to allow a tweak or two of her cardiac infrastructure. “Getting all mushy and emotional at this point in time would be a death knell for all our plans’ said Megan, glaring angrily at Stuart as though he was to blame for all the ill-will brewing against the Bank.

Stuart shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Megan being angry was not a good sign. She was just the smallest persons in the Bank right now. If she alerted her bosses, then things would turn nasty indeed. A bunch of them would descend (with him in tow), on the government in question. The government would arrange everything for these bosses – flights, cultural nights, high end local transportation, accommodation, food, entertainment, all at government cost and also literally beg them to walk all over them and the country.

These bosses would then call for meetings and make phone calls. They would even get the president of the United state of Avarica to call the government and yell at them. “Your government is making our Avaricans life miserable’  the president would then accuse the local government ‘ I am sure you are aware that all of you must serve us whether you starve or live or die or rot or burn or disappear’.  All this would make things very unpleasant indeed.

The World Bank bosses would then make a big statement of releasing several incriminating reports about the government, getting all their local stooges to make similar noises all over the country. The government would then get frantic and issue some stupid circular that would take a couple of years to undo. This was heading for anarchy. This  government could fall, and the next government had only one agenda – to kill off certain religious minorities and to make the country pure bred. They also wanted to change the constitution and bring in a new set of laws called the Man’s Smithy – which literally meant that men could tweak the country, its women and lower castes in their own personal workshops. This was the only basic rule of the Man’s smithy. The rest was open to interpretation.

“Lets wait and see’ said Stuart timidly.

Megan reached across virtually and slapped him right across his face. Stuart’s ego was bruised more than his face. A small part of him realized that Megan had no right to slap him. He could himself slap back a legal suit on her. Then a thought dawned on him that made his heart skip a beat. No one could file a legal suit against the bank. The Bank could do whatever they wanted, whenever and however they wanted, and nobody could do a damn thing. They had no rules and they certainly had no BODY that they owed any explanations to.

A frisson of fear passed through Stuart.  Slaps or no slaps, he had to stick very close to the Bank indeed….. after all, it was a question of his own survival.

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