Krish · The Cartographer's Daughter · Pulse Beat
He came to the drawing office himself, in a hired car, alone. She heard the engine in the street and knew. She was alone: Bhaskar had gone to the harbour, Commander Iyer was in Dehradun. She stood up…
He came to the drawing office himself, in a hired car, alone.
She heard the engine in the street and knew. She was alone: Bhaskar had gone to the harbour, Commander Iyer was in Dehradun. She stood up from the table, put her hands flat on the oak, and watched him come through the door in a grey suit with his silver watch.
"Miss Varma," said Rajiv Krish. He looked, for the first time, tired. "You've been busy."
"I've been drawing."
"You've cost my company four hundred crore." He said it without heat. "The investors are asking questions. The bank is asking questions." He looked round the room, at the plan chests and the long north windows. "I used to like your father. We worked together once. Before."
"Before he refused to lie for you."
"Before he refused to understand how the world works." Krish sat down uninvited on a stool. "A port is jobs. A port is a road, a school, a clinic. One rock in the sea. You'd stop four thousand jobs for a rock?"
"My father would have asked how many ships," said Isha. "And how many sailors."
For a long time he did not answer.