Jeetu sniffed, wiped his lips with a paper napkin, and considered the question. He took another bite of his second lunch, then gave me his opinion.

“What makes you think Mrs. Gandhi has any intentions of giving up power now? For charges no more serious than a traffic offense? This is minor stuff. She’ll manage.”

“Bribery?”

“Too big to throw out of office. She’ll win the appeal. Or the Supreme Court will hand down a new ruling that allows her to stay. She’s Nehru’s daughter, after all. She and her father have ruled this country for twenty-six of the past twenty-eight years.”

“So from a legal point of view, you think she’ll survive this?”

He chuckled. “Not from a legal point of view. But from a political one? Yes.”

He finished off his chana bhatura and excused himself to wash his hands in the little sink against the wall. When he returned to the table, he said he had an idea.

“You should talk to JP Narayan. That would be a feather in your cap.”

“The opposition leader? I’ve read about him.”

“Lok Nayak, the People’s Leader. My cousin is a protégé of his. JP’s in Delhi now, planning a large rally for tomorrow. If you can get there, I think I can arrange an interview.”

“We barely know each other,” I said, eyeing him with suspicion. “Why would you do that for me?”

“Maybe because you’ll thank me with a bottle of Vat-69.”

I accompanied Jeetu to his flat behind nearby Wilson College. My newfound friend and protector, Willy Smets, was in Poona, so I thought of Ash Pethe instead. He might be able to help. I retrieved his business card from my wallet and called him from Jeetu’s phone.

“I need a bottle of scotch,” I said, prevailing on our brief acquaintance for a favor. “I’ll pay, of course. The local shops only have the domestic stuff. I’m looking for Vat-69.”

Ash let loose a big laugh and said, “Sure. I can help you.”

He told me to stop by his place, where his servant would “do the needful.” Jeetu would have his bottle of Vat-69, which was going to set me back the larcenous sum of 170 rupees. About twenty-one dollars. For Vat-69.

Next, Jeetu made a trunk call to his cousin in Delhi. We had to wait about twenty minutes for the call to go through, but the meeting was set. By 5:30 that afternoon, I was holding a ticket to Delhi on the next morning’s first flight. It had cost me 330 rupees each way, but I’d get my story. And JP Narayan would have some welcome international publicity for his mission to see Mrs. Gandhi thrown out.