The thing about trying to contact someone like Sharad Patel is that you can't just walk up and
knock on his door. The man has layers of security, political handlers, and people whose entire job
is to keep random assholes away from him. But every fortress has weak points if you know
where to look.
I spent weeks studying his routine through newspaper coverage and local political blogs. Sharad
wasn't just hiding in some mansion—he was actively campaigning, rebuilding his party after the
2014 election loss. His Nationalist Congress Party had taken a beating, but he was methodically
working his way back through Maharashtra's State political landscape.
The Enforcement Directorate pressure was real. I could see it in how carefully his public
statements were crafted, how his business interests were being restructured. The man was
preparing for a siege, but he didn't know the biggest hit was still coming.
School became my cover for research. "I'm doing a project on local political leadership," I told
our civics teacher, Mrs. Gupta. She was thrilled that a student was finally showing interest in
something other than cricket and Bollywood.
"Sharad Patel is an excellent choice," she said, handing me a stack of newspaper clippings.
"Love him or hate him, you can't ignore his impact on Maharashtra State politics. The man's been
relevant for over fifty years."
Perfect. Now I had a legitimate reason to be seen reading everything about him.
Angelica noticed, obviously. We were sitting in our usual spot during lunch break when she
glanced at the political biography I was reading.
"Since when do you care about old politicians?" she asked, stealing a bite of my sandwich.
"Since I realized politics affects everything. Money, jobs, opportunities." I closed the book. "Your
dad complains about corruption, right? Well, understanding how these guys operate helps you
understand how the system works."
"My dad says Patel is one of the smart ones. Says he's crooked as hell, but at least he gets
things done." She lowered her voice. "Dad thinks all the ED investigations are just political
harassment. Says the real crooks are the ones not getting investigated."
"What else does your dad say about him?"
"That he's got fingers in every business in the state. Sugar factories, cooperatives, construction
contracts. And that he's got enough dirt on other politicians to bury half the government if he
wanted to." She grinned. "Why? You planning to become a political journalist or something?"
"Something like that."
That afternoon, I met Arjun at a small café instead of his office. More discreet, and the
background noise would make our conversation harder to overhear.
"I've been thinking about our contact strategy," he said, stirring his tea methodically. "Direct
approach is suicide. But there are other ways."
"I'm listening."
"Patel's got business interests beyond politics. Sugar cooperatives, educational trusts,
development projects. Lots of legitimate channels where new business relationships get
formed." He pulled out a notebook. "I've identified three possible entry points."
"Go on."
"First: his daughter's mayoral office. She handles urban development contracts, which means
there's regular interaction with legal firms on zoning, permits, construction approvals. I could
approach as a lawyer looking to establish relationships for future projects."
"Too direct. And it puts you on record as making contact."
"Second option: the party structure. NCP has youth wings, local committees, volunteer
organizations. Someone with political interest and good insights could work their way up, get
noticed for being unusually well-informed."
"Better, but too slow. And it requires me to be visible."
"Third option: anonymous intelligence. Prove credibility first through accurate predictions
delivered anonymously, then gradually establish communication channels."
Now he was thinking. "Explain that one."
"We start feeding accurate information to his inner circle. Election predictions, policy forecasts,
business intelligence. Information that proves we have sources they don't. Once they're paying
attention, we offer direct consultation services."
"How do we deliver this anonymous intelligence?"
"Multiple channels. Anonymous tips to journalists who cover him. Encrypted messages to his
office. Information drops through intermediaries." Arjun leaned forward. "The key is consistency
and accuracy. Make them need what we're providing."
I thought it through. It was risky, but it had potential. "What kind of information would get their
attention?"
"Start small. Local election results, minor policy announcements, business developments in
sectors he cares about. Build credibility gradually." He paused. "But Jake, once we start this,
there's no going back. These people don't forget who they owe, and they don't forgive who
crosses them."
"I understand the risks."
"Do you? Because I'm starting to think you're either incredibly smart or incredibly stupid, and I
can't figure out which."
"Maybe both."
We spent the next hour planning the initial approach. Small predictions, verifiable outcomes,
gradually increasing in significance. The goal was to become an information source they couldn't
ignore.
That evening, I walked home through streets buzzing with pre-election energy. Posters covered
every available wall, loudspeakers blared campaign songs, and groups of men argued politics at
every corner. The whole city felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
At dinner, Dad was unusually talkative about local politics. "The municipal elections are going to
be interesting," he said, serving himself rice. "Word is that several major contractors are
switching party loyalties. Money talks louder than ideology these days."
"Which contractors?" I asked, trying to sound casually interested.
"Rajesh Construction, Sharma Industries, a few others. They're all moving toward NCP,
apparently. Probably betting on Patel's political comeback."
Perfect. Information I could verify and use.
Later that night, I called Arjun from my room, keeping my voice low.
"I've got our first prediction," I said. "Municipal contract realignments. Three major construction
firms switching to NCP support within the next two weeks."
"You sure about this?"
"Sure enough to bet our credibility on it."
"Alright. I'll draft the anonymous intelligence report. Who should we send it to?"
"Start with the business journalists who cover his sugar cooperative holdings. Make it look like
inside industry information."
"And if we're wrong?"
"We're not wrong. But if we are, we disappear and try a different approach."
After hanging up, I sat at my desk working through contingencies. This was the beginning of the
most dangerous game I'd ever played. But it was also the most important.
Outside my window, the city hummed with ambition, corruption, hope, and desperation.
Somewhere out there, Sharad Patel was making his own plans, fighting his own battles,
preparing for his own comeback.
Soon, our paths would cross. And when they did, I intended to be ready.