They found it mighty difficult to make out what the don was saying. We have won, he said, to a round of instant applause. We have won hands down, he added, to shouts of down, down. So when do we take over the new franchises, everyone wanted to ask. But this is where the hangover played tricks with the mafiosi. Instead of doling out the goodies which they would have accepted without question or murmur, the don paused for effect and uttered the quizzical line: We will form a coordination committee.
But what on earth was a coordination committee? The don first explained the philosophy behind the coordination committee and then equally painstakingly how the coordination committee came before the standing committee in the order of precedence. Not satisfied with even that, the don spent what looked like another light year explaining how the real untouchable at the bottom of the heap was the cabinet.
Even after the third round of black coffee the mafiosi could not make out how all this elevated their station in life. They understood the cabinet all right. It was right there in the corner of the room, picked up from the zamindar's house during the famous riots. It was so big that the entire standing committee could stand on it and thus be above it, particularly because it consisted of half-fed trade unionists and teachers who wore glasses and spoke funnily.
But even though they agreed that the coordination committee was above the standing committee, where was the space to make it sit on top of those half-fed rickety creatures? Then the don, who was not a don for nothing, revealed the great secret: only the new SHO and he would form the coordination committee. Okay they said, the hangover clearing a little, you could make the two sit on the others provided you got a big enough gaddi, but when would the two decide to dole out the new franchises?
The don hardly needed reminding that business was not what it used to be. The cinema ticket black-marketing franchise was gone, as nobody went to the cinema. Similarly, gone was the mela franchise as in the heat, nobody went to the mela and got his pocket picked. You could still pick up cars in the posh areas but man cannot live by cars alone.
Then when the mood was getting truly restless, the don let out another great confidence: we will be meeting once a month. To do what, silently wailed the array of unmoving lips. Sensing the mood, the don could not hold his patience any longer and almost barked out: to fix the next meeting to tell the SHO that he survives only on our courtesy.
That delivered, the don glowed, waiting for the applause that his every utterance was greeted with. The mafiosi applauded but there was no vim in it. The don thought they were terribly hungover but then a don is the last to know that his time is up.
