“That can’t be,” Mehra said curtly. “If you have ever read Freud you will understand that the Id drives everyone towards basic raw desires – food, sex, leisure – and money is the source of all these.”

“There are some people money can’t buy,” said Mangu Yadav, a Member of Parliament.

“Everyone has a price,” said Jay Mehra, an executive at a top business firm. “What’s yours?”

“I never said I am not for sale,” said Yadav not piqued by Mehra’s remarks. “But there are people. Anyway, I take a standard pay for asking questions in the parliament. You know that.”

“Good. But I can’t come around to agree with you that there are people who can’t be bought.”

“You don’t find many these days, but there sure are…”

“That can’t be,” Mehra said curtly. “If you have ever read Freud you will understand that the Id drives everyone towards basic raw desires – food, sex, leisure – and money is the source of all these.”

“I believe Freud had mentioned something about the superego,” Yadav smiled, knowing that Mehra had thought he knew nothing about Freud.

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There was a brief pause, while Mehra pretended to take longer than usual to sip from his tea mug. He sure hadn’t expected this from a rustic, unsophisticated looking lawmaker who had become a member of parliament by playing sheer dirty politics. Mehra, in his neatly ironed suit, was highly educated and had risen to the level he was in by sheer merit. Hence, his cynicism towards the political class seemed natural.

“That can be audited,” Mehra replied. “Superego is the conscience one develops by interacting with people around us. Changing perception isn’t hard for business executives like me.”

“But I sure can do that better than you, can’t I, Mr. Mehra? Think about the numerous people I have to convince to get votes,” Yadav replied plainly.

“And you take pride in that?” asked Mehra.

“I am not a hypocrite,” said Yadav without even a tinge of guilt in his voice, “except of course when I am in my constituency trying to save my job.”

“So?”

“So I tell you, I know people who aren’t up for sale.”

“If you are ready to prove your point by a singular case, I can bet my ass on it.”

The dhaba was getting hotter with the approach of noon. Mehra wasn’t here to argue with the illiterate fool that he considered Yadav to be, but to broker a deal. But he couldn’t stand the man’s arrogance and know-all attitude any longer.

“I have no need for your ass. How much?”

“A crore…”

“Not much for the effort…”

“You understand that if you lose you got to pay me as much…”

“Of course I do!”

“Five crores. Done.”

“Done!”

“Then show me this man!”

“Here he is, the owner of this dhaba,” Yadav said pointing towards a pot-bellied bald man in his fifties, who was sitting behind a cash counter at one end of the dhaba. “As you can see, this dhaba is located in a very posh locality, a locality where you don’t usually find such dhabas. Last year, a businessman was ready to pay him a quarter crore to buy it out and start a coffee retail outlet here. He didn’t budge.”

“I have heard this dhaba is a favourite hangout for many parliamentarians and bureaucrats and that he has a good business.”

“He claims he is satisfied with his work. The amount offered to him was enough to live a luxurious life.”

“I see. So I have to buy this dhaba from him,” Mehra said, his lips forming a thin smile.

“Yes. But there are conditions – you won’t use force on him. You won’t try to kidnap his family or…”

“You can rest assured. I am not a gunda or a politician to do that!”

“Right,” said Yadav, his face not showing any sign of insult. “And there is another condition. You won’t offer him more than five crore rupees.”

“Why is that so? Why should it be your concern if I buy him out for six crores?”

“I know he won’t budge for ten crores, but rules are rules. This rule is to ensure that you don’t increase your pay beyond the bet amount. Because if that is so, it will indicate that you are desperate to win the bet not for the money but to satiate your ego. This isn’t good business sense – to lose money to win a bet.”

“You’re preaching business sense to me? I know how much I have to offer him. I am sure I can seal the deal in half a crore. This land isn’t worth more than that.”

“Great! Then let us meet next week – same day, same time at this dhaba whoever it belongs to –this man or you.”

A WEEK LATER…

Mangu Yadav and Jay Mehra sit sipping tea at the same dhaba. Both are silent, Mehra looking somewhat disturbed while Yadav is his usual self.

“So where do I deposit the money?” Mehra broke the silence.

“I prefer cash,” Yadav said. “I will send my man to your office tomorrow to collect it.”

“Five crores in cash is a big amount. It will take some time…”

“No worries. I can wait till you are comfortable.”

There was again silence.

“So what really happened?” asked Yadav.

“That man is a fool,” Mehra said. “I tried real hard but he wasn’t ready to part with his dhaba… kept speaking nonsense about his ancestors and how they had served the people here from the dhaba.”

“Yes, I have heard the story. He says his ancestors still roam around the dhaba and…”

“Yes, all that crap. Anyway, he will rot here all his life. I haven’t done any work this last week and have been pursuing him with offers. I went up to two crores but he didn’t budge…”

“You could have tried to offer more…”

“Of no use. I knew it from his attitude,” Mehra replied. “You know why India is progressing at such a slow rate? Because of people like him – who don’t understand material reality, and dwell in their fanciful family pride and ethics and values and all that…”

“Hmm…” Yadav nodded his head in sympathy.

“Anyway, I have to leave; have been coming here everyday since this day last week. I have lots of work pending to do.”

Mehra, the smart savvy up-market corporate honcho, left the dhaba poorer by five crores. Yadav, the lawmaker of modest beginnings and poor education, finished his tea, rose and went to the dhaba owner’s counter to pay the bill. That wasn’t usual, for one waiter always stood by to attend to any whim of the power-man.

“Sir! I see the gentleman with you is gone,” the dhaba owner said.

“Yes, he is. He was pretty irritated with you,” Yadav said casually. “Anyway, he gave up. How much did he offer you last?”

“Ooh… eh… three crores, sir…”

“But he said he had offered you two,” Yadav said, a sharp stern look in his eyes that everyone around him dreaded.

“Yes… but then he was…”

“My man will deliver you two and half crores as promised in due time. Done?”

“Done, sir.”

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