I ran into a masked MLA, Gupta, the other day. You might say, so what, everyone’s wearing a mask. But there was something special about him.
Gupta was wearing a mask to avoid being recognised. He belonged to a party that had a wafer-thin majority in Ulta Pradesh, somewhere in the depths of India.
It was July, which coincided with the monsoon and the season for horse-trading.
Villagers all over this beautiful state would come out and sing and dance to the accompaniment of dhols to greet the possibility that several MLAs would suddenly shift allegiance.
As the seasons change, so do governments in Ulta Pradesh. Each villager prayed to the gods that their MLA would get the largest bribe and thus salvage the honour of their ancient village.
It was a beautiful and charming tradition and had once been captured in a documentary by National Geographic.
Gupta, therefore, was in demand, and he didn’t know what to do. WhatsApp messages were flooding his phone asking him to shift loyalties and think about his political future.
Some even suggested he might be named minister for micro-irrigation, mask manufacturing and sanitiser production, which seemed a lucrative offer. But Gupta was worried. He had heard that his sworn enemy, Uniyal, had received an offer of Rs 2 crore to switch over. Gupta had only been offered Rs 25 lakh.
He felt humiliated. Was that all he was worth? What would the people in his village say? To think matters over, Gupta ran away to a resort in a neighbouring state with Sharma and Agarwal, two more disgruntled MLAs.
They were followed in hot pursuit by Shetty and Tomar, a couple of professional MLA-catchers (a skill that requires extensive training) with nets and dart guns.
But they somehow made it across the border to the resort by changing masks several time en route.
I caught up with him at the lounge, ironically named Trading Post. “Gupta, my good man!” I exclaimed. “What are you doing here?” I knew him because we had both attended an online Masterclass on Fundamentals of Bribery some years ago.
He was startled. “Murthy! How did you recognise me with my mask on?” he asked in a quavering voice. “Come on! Who visits resorts these days? Only runaway MLAs! In any case, your photo was being flashed on TV as someone who was missing, having claimed that your conscience was speaking to you before the no-confidence motion.”
He suddenly wept. “I’m only being offered Rs 25 lakh. Am I that inconsequential? How can I get a better offer?”
He cried. I patted his heaving back. “My suggestion, Gupta, is to ask for Rs 50 lakh and a ministerial berth and also demand a shaving kit, plus a monogrammed face mask with a powerful embroidered message.”
His face brightened and he straightened his back. “Yes, I’m worth at least Rs 50 lakh. But what message should be embroidered on the mask?” “Not for sale,” I said.