The Trust – Chapter 4

 The Visit

(Continued from Chapter 3)

The big day finally arrived. Vrinda had completed her preparations well in time and was ready. She had prepared two copies of a folder describing the four projects, which she would present to Mr. Mullick, the Director of the Trust.

On her personal side, she had packed a water bottle and a quick lunch to eat during the break, expecting the visiting Director to have his own lunch at the hotel itself.

Jayantiben arrived, as usual, on the dot. This time she had brought a Toyota Innova. Vrinda, properly dressed for the visit, looked quite impressive. The Tussar silk saree she had selected earlier was of a very light brownish shade, with delicate embroidery on the borders and pallu. She had chosen an ochre shade for the blouse, and a dark brown bead string looked lovely around her neck.

She and Jayantiben reached the hotel around 9:45 AM and, taking seats in the lobby, waited patiently for Mr. Mullick.

In a short while, they saw a man approaching. He was dressed more like a corporate executive — chinos, a full-sleeve shirt, polished black shoes, and a jacket.

Jayantiben recognised him and, through a gesture, told Vrinda that he was the man. They got up and walked over to him. Jayantiben introduced Vrinda as "Vrinda madam" and Mr. Mullick as "Sandip sir." Vrinda and Sandip sir greeted each other with folded hands, and Vrinda wished him a good morning.

Once the formalities were over, Jayantiben told them she would be leaving, and that she should be called if there was any difficulty. Then she left.

"So," said Sandip, "what have you planned for me?"

Vrinda handed him one of the folders and said she had planned to take him to four places — three because they had the greatest growth potential, and the fourth because it was her own project. She smiled as she said it. Sandip merely nodded in acknowledgement.

They walked to the waiting car. The driver opened the door, and Vrinda gestured for the Director to get in first. She hesitated, unsure where she herself should sit. Sandip sir noticed her hesitation and waved her in, asking her to sit beside him in the middle row.

At every project site, they were received with the utmost courtesy and shown around thoroughly. Sandip asked few questions — Vrinda's reports were so thorough and exhaustive that little needed clarifying. He also took great care to keep Vrinda in the loop at every step, so that every piece of information passed through her first. Vrinda realised this was a deliberate effort on his part — a quiet way of telling everyone that she was going to be the new boss.

At last, they reached Vrinda's own project. The moment the village women spotted Vrinda, they came rushing to meet her — but on seeing a stranger beside her, they stopped short and kept their distance. Vrinda explained how they had been working to help these women. Meanwhile, two girls who had had village attire specially stitched came forward, and Vrinda explained to Sandip how this small change was helping break down the barriers between the village women and the social workers.

Sandip suddenly turned to the two girls and asked, in chaste Marathi, whether they found the village attire comfortable.

"Yes," they replied.

Vrinda was stunned to discover that Sandip sir spoke such fluent Marathi, and she found herself staring at him. She caught what she thought was a trace of a mischievous smile on his face — but she said nothing and kept quiet.

After the tour, they returned to the hotel. Vrinda hesitated again, unsure about the lunch break or where the next meeting would be held. Sandip politely asked her for fifteen minutes to freshen up, and told her to relax in the lobby meanwhile. She found a washroom nearby, freshened up, and returned quietly to the lobby. Sandip came back as promised — he had shed his jacket and looked far more at ease. He waved to her and asked her to come along.

They walked to one of the hotel's restaurants, a cosy, comfortable-looking place. Sandip asked the steward for a table for two, and they were led to a small square table with two chairs facing each other. Sandip asked Vrinda to sit down, and the first question he put to her was whether she was vegetarian or non-vegetarian.

"You are Vrinda Patil, isn't it?" he added. "That means you must be eating meat. Do you like mutton curry?"

Vrinda wanted to say that anything would do for her, but somehow the words wouldn't come. She simply said, "Yes."

Sandip ordered mutton curry, rice, and curd for both of them, then asked Vrinda if that was all right, or whether she would prefer something else.

"It's okay," she murmured.

Sandip paused for a few seconds, as if collecting his thoughts, and then began. "To tell you the truth, this lunch break was not part of the original programme. I introduced it for reasons I'll explain later — but before anything else, I want to tell you that the Trust is offering you the post of CEO of the Pune Chapter. You'll be given an honorarium of seven lakh rupees a month. After tax, that comes to a little under five lakhs. In addition, the Pune Chapter will provide you a car with a driver, at your service. In a few months, a fully furnished accommodation may also be made available to you at subsidised rates. I'll need your acceptance before this evening, so we can move forward."

Vrinda was speechless. Everything was happening far too fast — faster than she could ever have imagined. She, a CEO? It seemed impossible. Somehow, she gathered her composure and told Sandip sir that she would let him know by evening.

Sandip added that before he continued, he had one request. "Please don't call me 'sir' — I'm not that much older than you. Just call me Sandip."

Vrinda simply nodded.

A waiter brought their food, and being hungry, both fell silent as they ate. For a few minutes, nothing more was said.

Then Sandip began again, his voice dropping slightly, as though the walls themselves might be listening. "This Trust was founded in Kolkata by a few people who have chosen to remain unnamed. They are represented by four or five trusteeship firms, so for all practical purposes, the heads of these firms are our trustees. They don't involve themselves in operations, though — their only concern is that the Trust's money is spent in the designated areas. The day-to-day running of the Trust is handled by a board of directors. I am one of them. Until now, I've looked after the Gujarat operations. Now I'll also be handling the Pune Chapter. So, if you accept our offer, you would be working with me as a team.

"Now — something far more important." He leaned forward slightly. "Our trustees have no direct communication with us, the board of directors. Between the two, there is a unique entity — one that none of us has ever fully been able to figure out. We simply call it 'the Trust.' Its only physical manifestation, as far as we know, is a large server sitting in our head office in Delhi. Nothing more. No face, no voice, no name. And yet it monitors everything. It collects data. It takes decisions." He let that sit for a moment. "Have you read George Orwell's 1984? This Trust is exactly like Big Brother from that book — except it is real, and it is watching us right now, somewhere, through means we don't fully understand.

"Every meeting, every discussion held anywhere on our behalf, is monitored by this entity. Unless it is satisfied, not one rupee moves. All our offices are fitted with CCTV cameras. Every word said, every action taken, is noted, weighed, judged. Take your own case, Vrinda. The early challenges you were given — the rural dressing exercise, the review of projects — none of those decisions were mine. They were the Trust's. Only after it was satisfied with your performance did it instruct us to go ahead." He paused, and for a moment his easy manner slipped. "My own feeling — and I say this only to you — is that this entity is an AI. Tuned, somehow, for this exact operation. Who built it? When? Where? Not one of us on the board knows. We simply obey it."

A short silence followed. Then Sandip added, quieter still, "The one place it cannot reach us is a public place — a hotel, a restaurant. No cameras there that belong to it. That's why I built this lunch break into today's programme. And the Trust accepted it, without a single question. Which tells you something too.

"Coming to the Pune Chapter — I've arranged a temporary office in a building down this road. If you accept our offer, you can start work there. Jayantiben, along with two others I've transferred from Ahmadabad, will also begin working there from tomorrow. In the near future, we'll have a proper office."

"But what work would I be doing?" Vrinda asked.

"We'll discuss that in a one-to-one official meeting after lunch, in our office, under CCTV coverage," Sandip replied. "One last thing — for now, I'll be in Pune two days a week, Thursdays and Fridays. Tuesdays and Wednesdays, I'll be in Ahmadabad, and Mondays we have our board meeting in Delhi. On the other working days, when I'm not here, you will be the boss." He laughed. "I can manage this schedule because I'm single."

"Okay, if you've finished your lunch, let's walk down to the office," Vrinda said hurriedly. "Sa— Sandip sir, sorry, Sandip — two last questions. How is it that you speak such good Marathi? And two weeks ago, I received a large sum of money from the Trust — should I return it to you?"

Sandip laughed again. "Vrinda, I'm from Pune myself. My father was a senior officer in the IMD. I was born and brought up here — my schools, my colleges, all in Pune. I only went abroad after graduating. As for your second question — if you received cash coupons sent by the Trust, that was an award for good work. It's yours to spend as you like."

Sandip paid the bill, and they stepped outside. He asked Vrinda to wait in the lobby for a few minutes, then returned quickly, now carrying a backpack.

They walked down the road to a brand-new building, where the Trust had hired a co-working space. On the way, Sandip told her not to mention their conversation at the restaurant once they were in the office. Vrinda agreed, but asked for one thing in return — to be allowed to sit alone for a few minutes and think, since too much had happened all at once.

"Okay," said Sandip. "There's a waiting area in the office — you can sit there. I'll call you in fifteen minutes."

They entered the building and stepped into the lift. Vrinda had a chance to observe Sandip up close. Not a bad-looking guy, she thought. After they got off the lift, they walked into the co-working space and entered the Trust's office. There were a few glass cabins, a conference room, and an open area with desks and chairs. She sat down in the waiting space while Sandip disappeared into one of the cabins, set his backpack aside, opened his laptop, and began working. Vrinda watched him from a distance, her mind racing with thoughts.

What decision should she take? Would it be wise to step into this unknown world? Her mind was still torn when one of the staff members came over and told her that sir was calling for her.

Sandip, in the office, was a different man altogether. He asked her to sit and began speaking. "Vrinda — first, many thanks for taking me around the various projects. It was a very enjoyable trip. I also noticed your excellent rapport with the social workers. Now, let's come to the main subject of this meeting. The Trust has decided to substantially increase the outlay for the Pune Chapter. We need someone here who can not only take charge but also bring new ideas and concepts for growth. Our recent experience with your work has been very encouraging, and so the Trust has decided to offer you a very challenging opportunity."

Sandip stopped. He took a letter out of an envelope and slid it across to her. Formal offer. Pune Chapter. Seven lakhs a month, subject to tax. Car. Subsidised accommodation. A line about travel to Delhi if required. And, at the very bottom, a clause — the letter was confidential, its contents not to be shared with anyone.

Vrinda read it twice before looking up.

"Any questions?" Sandip asked.

"Two. Is the Trust foreign-funded? And is it truly charitable?"

"Sharp, as always." Sandip smiled. "Zero foreign funding. And yes — charitable, but run like a business. Paid staff. No profit motive."

"And if I accept — what exactly would I be doing?"

"Now that's the real question." Sandip leaned back. "On paper, you'd be in charge of making sure Pune Chapter hits its plans and projections. Simple enough — we're all here to help with that. But that's not why the Trust wants you." He pulled out her own report, the one she'd submitted weeks ago, and tapped a paragraph near the top. "Here. Your idea of aggregation. Dozens of NGOs, all doing good work in isolation — bring them together, fund them as one, let each keep its identity but work in step with the others. Everyone at the Trust loved it. Not liked — loved. They want to pilot it in Pune first. If it works, it goes national.

"That would be yours to build. Your call, your method, no permissions needed. Just a weekly update to the Trust — nothing more."

Vrinda didn't need to think anymore. Her decision had already made itself. "Yes," she said. "I'm ready to accept."

Sandip was visibly pleased — by now he had seen enough of this girl's intelligence and attitude to know she was the right choice. "Good," he said simply, and asked her to sign the letter of acceptance he had brought along.

He then opened his backpack and took out a laptop and a phone. "For all Trust matters, you must use these," he told her. "Don't use your regular phone or laptop for anything related to the Trust."

"When should I join?" Vrinda asked.

"I think next Thursday," Sandip replied. "But don't come directly to the office. Meet me in the hotel lobby at 1 PM, so I can introduce you properly to everyone concerned."

Vrinda got up to leave with her new laptop and phone. Sandip stopped her and handed over a sealed envelope. "Open it after you get home," he said. "It's for accepting our offer."

"One more thing — use the Trust car to go home now, and show the driver where you live. That way, he can pick you up from there next Thursday."

Vrinda was genuinely happy now. She smiled, said "Thank you" to Sandip, and left.

Sandip sat back, still thinking about her. Very smart girl, he thought.

Once home, Vrinda opened the sealed envelope. As she had expected, there were two coupons, each worth 10X. She simply smiled. Now she knew exactly what that meant.

(Continued to Chapter 5)

(All characters places except for geographical names events actions of people are fictional. Any similarity found is purely accidental. All images AI generated)