Crucial Intelligence

Madan stood by the door, wringing his hands helplessly, shame written across his face.

He asked Aditya to sit down, then sat on the edge of the bed himself.

"Aditya, I heard you accidentally fell into the Ganges. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

"That's good. As your uncle, I really don't have the face to go back. You don't have to persuade me, Aditya," Madan said, lowering his head.

Aditya went straight to the point. "Grandfather has put me in charge of the family business."

Madan froze for a moment, then looked up and studied his nephew.

"Time flies! You've grown up too, Aditya. I believe in you. Give it your best. You'll definitely restore the Mishra Family's fortunes."

"I need your help. We Mishras are Brahmins, and Brahmins cannot lose their honor. You can't waste your time here. Come back with me," Aditya said earnestly, staring into his uncle Madan's eyes.

Madan lowered his head, not daring to meet his nephew's gaze.

Only after a long while did he look up, his eyes red.

"I'm useless. I've disgraced the Mishra Family. If you need me, Aditya, I'll go back with you. There's nothing left here for me to cling to."

Aditya placed both hands on his uncle's shoulders and said firmly:

"My uncle isn't useless. You know bookkeepers and people in the fertilizer business. You've spent half a year running around the county. You must know a few people."

"What good does that do?" Madan gave a bitter laugh, not understanding what his nephew meant.

"Those people won't lend me money or sell me goods on credit. In their eyes, I'm already finished."

"I don't need you to borrow money or buy goods on credit."

Aditya gripped his uncle's shoulders hard.

"I want you to tell me who has fertilizer, who's waiting to sell, and who urgently needs cash flow. Bookkeepers know these things even better than the bosses themselves."

Madan looked up at him in bewilderment, searching his eyes as though trying to find something in them.

"Aditya, what do you want to know all this for?"

Aditya smiled. "Your nephew has a clever plan of his own. Just do as I say, Uncle."

"All right, then!"

Seeing his nephew's confident expression, Madan could not help being convinced. He had once seen that same confidence on his eldest brother's face.

It was too late, so Aditya stayed overnight at his uncle Madan's place as planned. Raju would sleep at the hotel on his own.

The two lay back-to-back in the same bed. The bed boards were hard and creaked whenever they turned over.

Madan could not fall asleep for a long time. After turning over several times, he finally called softly, "Aditya."

"Mm."

"Do you really think there's a way?"

"Mm."

"In my six months in Gorakhpur, I've kept so many ledgers, and I've seen only one thing. There's no hope for Brahmins like us in farming. The more land we farm, the poorer we get, and the debts keep snowballing. Without money, even being Brahmins doesn't make us quite so sacred anymore."

Madan's voice was muffled by his pillow.

"When I was going through the ledgers, I came across other people's accounts and finally understood something."

"What?" Aditya asked.

"The people making money aren't the ones with the most land. They're the ones with the best information."

Aditya opened his eyes in the darkness and asked:

"What information?"

"Fertilizer, grain, what policies the government plans to change. Whoever finds out first can prepare ahead of time and make rupees. Farmers don't listen for these things, but businessmen do."

"Aditya, is that what you want to do too?"

Madan's voice drifted softly over.

Aditya did not answer, but inwardly he was stunned. He realized that his uncle was actually a clever man too.

The next morning, Madan took Aditya to meet someone.

The man's name was Chaudhary, and he was the bookkeeper at a fertilizer wholesale depot beside Gorakhpur's old market.

Chaudhary was in his forties and wore iron-rimmed glasses. He sat in a small prefab room behind the depot, a stack of ledgers before him and a calculator in his hand.

Madan knocked first. Chaudhary looked up, saw him, then noticed Aditya behind him and stopped working. He asked:

"Madan, you've brought someone?"

"My nephew, Aditya Mishra," Madan replied.

Chaudhary looked Aditya up and down, his gaze lingering briefly on the sacred thread around his neck, then said:

"So it's Young Master Aditya."

Aditya walked over, pulled up a chair himself, and sat facing Chaudhary across the desk.

"Have you heard? They're going to lift the restrictions on phosphate fertilizer."

Chaudhary glanced up at Aditya, then went back to writing figures in his ledger. Only after a long while did he say:

"I have. What are you planning to do, Young Master Aditya?"

"When?"

"You sound as though you know someone in the Ministry of Finance, Young Master."

"Who I know and where is none of your concern." Aditya braced his hands on the desk and leaned forward a little.

"I only have one question. Who in this county is sitting on unsold stocks of phosphate fertilizer?"

Chaudhary looked up, his eyes narrowing behind his iron-rimmed glasses. He closed the ledger, leaned back in his chair, folded his hands over his stomach, and looked Aditya up and down.

Madan suddenly spoke from beside them. "Brother Chaudhary, stop keeping us guessing."

"Do you have money, young master?" Chaudhary ignored Madan and addressed Aditya.

"No." Aditya shook his head.

"Then why are you asking?"

"I'll get the money."

"How?"

"That's my concern. Just tell me who has the goods."

"Ha! Hahaha! Is even the Mishra Family struggling to hold on now?"

Chaudhary watched Aditya for a few seconds, then laughed toward Madan, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes twitching along.

Madan fell silent for a moment, then said, "I support Aditya. This is our own choice."

Chaudhary finally stopped smiling. He stood, walked to the wall behind him, pulled a sheet from a pile of old papers, brought it back, and slapped it onto the desk.

There were a few rough diagrams on the paper: three names, followed by figures and dates.

"Your uncle worked here for half a year," Chaudhary said. "Brahmins can't set their pride aside. He was too honest, unwilling to bend. He couldn't carry on and simply left."

As he spoke, Chaudhary stared at Aditya. "But you're different. You're nothing like a Brahmin."

Chaudhary's words were half curious, half puzzled. He pointed to the first name.

"This one has thirty tonnes of Jordanian goods stockpiled in the county. He doesn't dare move them and is afraid he'll be stuck with them. His purchase price was five thousand eight hundred. He bought them before the New Year. The second has fifty tonnes. He's also heard that the policy is going to ease, but he's not sure and wants to sell them on. The third is a middleman who specializes in flipping goods. Offer him a reasonable price, and he'll take on anything."

Aditya listened carefully, writing everything down as he listened: names, tonnages, prices, and storage locations.

He wrote quickly, the tip of his pencil rustling across the paper. When he finished, he folded the sheet and tucked it inside his clothes.

"Thank you." He stood.

Chaudhary leaned back in his chair without offering any polite response. He looked at Aditya and added, "You asked me when earlier. I didn't tell you."

Aditya stopped.

Chaudhary held up one finger. "I don't know the exact date. But there's one thing I've heard whispers of: the government will definitely issue a document before the end of August."

"The end of August. Are you sure?"

"No."

Chaudhary opened his ledger again and began making marks with his pen.

"But the big bosses of two wholesale depots in the county are both clearing their inventories, faster than in previous years. They're afraid. Afraid prices will change once the policy comes out. People who are afraid aren't waiting for news. They're making preparations."

Aditya understood.

"Thank you," he said again, then headed outside.

Chaudhary watched the two leave, muttering under his breath, "Good luck to you both. Whatever you do, don't end up like me."