The Great Escape by Saket Soni

Author:Saket Soni
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Algonquin Books
Published: 2022-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

6: The Diplomat and the Coolies

March 27, 2008

Washington, DC

Our next stop that day was with Ambassador Ronen Sen. We approached the limestone mansion that housed the Indian Embassy, a regal residence from 1901 on Washington’s old Millionaire’s Row. A statue of Mahatma Gandhi—determined, midstride, in a peasant’s loincloth and shawl—stood in stark contrast across the street.

I announced our presence to a guard. He slammed the heavy door shut and disappeared inside. From the foot of the stairs, I peered through thick glass. The guard came back out with a harried official who surveyed the crowd and fixed his eyes on me.

“India welcomes you,” he said.

“And we thank India,” I said.

“How many people will come inside?”

“Sixty.”

“I request you to select ten. Sorry to inform: room can accommodate ten only.” A low rumble from the men.

“Sorry to inform: we’re all coming in.”

The men behind me cheered.

“Who has the chit?” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“The appointment chit.”

“The chit! Of course.”

Rajan fished out a folded, creased printout, damp with sweat, and handed it over. The official’s eyes narrowed. It was the Times of India article from the week before, with the headline sen cancels travel plans to meet with indian workers.

“Please ask India to find a bigger room,” I said.

He looked back with a hard stare. Then he blinked. The guard swung open the doors.

We stepped inside. The murmuring and footfalls of dozens of men filled the great hall. Stony-faced officials in suits stared at the men’s jeans and coveralls.

“Welcome to India,” I whispered to Rajan.

“India welcomes you,” he whispered back.

Adjacent to us was a magnificent, winding staircase. Our gazes followed it up to the slight, elegant man in a gray suit and blue tie. He paused at the top of the stairs and struck a Roman senator’s pose, one hand on the balustrade, the other behind his back. This had the intended effect: a hush fell over the men, the awe of supplicants.

I knew exactly why he’d pulled this maneuver. We were threatening the biggest deal of his life.

Sen was the diplomat who’d only made one mistake. His first thirty-nine years in the service had been flawless—in Mexico City, Moscow, Bonn, Berlin, and London. In 2004, India’s newly elected prime minister, Manmohan Singh, sent Sen to Washington to work on India’s top global priority: a nuclear deal with the Americans. Since India’s independence, the country had wanted both nuclear energy and nuclear weapons, but the rules set by the US and the Europeans said that only five countries were allowed that privilege, and India wasn’t one of them. India developed both anyway. As a result, it was barred from nuclear commerce with the rest of the world.

President George W. Bush was now willing to reverse that, giving India access to US nuclear fuel and technology. In return, India would submit to inspections. The deal would mark India’s arrival as a great power: the only country in the world that enjoyed nuclear weapons and power without signing the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty, and without facing sanctions for it.

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