Showing posts with label Anand. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Anand. Show all posts
Monday, 15 July 2024
Saturday, 19 February 2022
Tuesday, 15 February 2022
Incredible story of how a faceless yogi ‘conned’ NSE CEO, got 9x salary, 3-day week, promotions
Shubham Batra in The Print
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New Delhi: The chief executive of a top stock exchange which handles 49 crore transactions per day — worth a daily average turnover of Rs 64,000 crore — seeks the “guidance” of a faceless yogi to better perform her job. All over email without having ever met him.
This ‘yogi’ also gets a little-known employee of a public sector company hired as the chief strategy officer (CSO) of the stock exchange, a position that didn’t exist earlier, at an annual salary package of Rs 1.38 crore, more than nine times his previous package of Rs 15 lakh.
The ‘yogi’ gets the CEO to promote the CSO year after year to make him the group operating officer (GOO), even exempt him from the five-day work-week, allow him to come in only for three days and work the rest of the time at will.
That’s not all.
The CEO shares sensitive business information related to the stock exchange’s financial projections for five years, dividend pay-out ratio, business plans, agenda of board meeting and consultations over the ratings/performance appraisals of employees.
Eventually, a probe by the stock exchange which consulted “practitioners of human psychology” strongly suspects the CSO was himself the faceless ‘yogi’ and had created that fake identity to con the CEO and benefit from it.
It’s a shockingly bizarre ‘con job’ and even funny at one level, if it was the plot of a movie or a TV series.
Except this is no fiction, and is alleged to have happened for real at the National Stock Exchange, India’s top share exchange whose stated aim is to “catalyse India’s growth story by creating investment opportunities, enabling access and empowering our stakeholders”.
The CEO in question is Chitra Ramakrishna and the CSO she hired and then promoted is Anand Subramanian — who is also alleged to have doubled up as the ‘yogi’. Between 2013 and 2016, when Ramakrishna was NSE chief, she took business decisions on the advice of this ‘yogi’ and shared sensitive and confidential information about business matters with him.
The revelations came as part of a six-year probe that markets regulator Securities and Exchange Board of India (SEBI) undertook on complaints over misgovernance and wrongdoings at the NSE. In an order Friday, the regulator fined Ramakrishna and Subramanian Rs 3 crore and Rs 2 crore, respectively.
While SEBI maintained that allegations of Subramanian being the ‘yogi’ himself aren’t sustainable, the regulator in its order said the ex-GOO is surely an accomplice in the wrongdoings at the exchange.
In her submissions to SEBI on whether sharing such information is against the principles of governance, Ramakrishna said: “As we know, senior leaders often seek informal counsel from coaches, mentors or other seniors in this industry which are all purely informal in nature. In a similar strain, I felt that this guidance would help me perform my role better.”
Also read: LIC IPO is a delicate business & raises troubling questions
What happened at NSE
According to the 190-page SEBI order issued Friday, NSE CEO and MD Chitra Ramakrishna hired Anand Subramanian as the bourse’s CSO in 2013 at a remuneration package of Rs 1.38 crore, over nine times his previous compensation of Rs 15 lakh at state-owned Balmer Lawrie.
The position of a CSO didn’t even exist before Subramanian’s appointment, but he didn’t have the required qualifications for such a position.
Over a period of three years, Ramakrishna kept on promoting him, eventually making him GOO. She even exempted him from working five days a week and instead asked to come only for three days and be allowed to work the rest of the time at will.
All of these decisions were made on the instructions of a faceless ‘yogi’, who goes by the name ‘Siddha Purusha’, according to Ramakrishna’s submissions.
She said the ‘yogi’ doesn’t possess a physical persona and can materialise at will, adding that he is a spiritual force that dwells in the Himalayas. She sent emails to an ID, rigyajursama@outlook.com, sharing sensitive and confidential information about NSE, the SEBI order showed.
While she was going about making such decisions, between 2013 and 2016, several complaints were made with SEBI to allege governance issues in the appointment of Subramanian, who was also advisor to Ramakrishna.
The SEBI then began a probe, seeking evidence and depositions from the key characters, including Ramakrishna.
Also read: 5 years, 28 banks, Rs 23,000 cr debt — how ABG Shipyard pulled off ‘India’s biggest bank fraud’
Subramanian was ‘yogi’, claims NSE
In a 2018 letter to SEBI, the NSE submitted that “its legal advisers had consulted practitioners of human psychology and according to the opinion of these practitioners, Ramakrishna has been exploited by Subramanian by creating another identity in the form of Rigyajursama to guide her to perform her duties according to his wish”.
“Ramakrishna was manipulated by the same man in the form of different identities; one as Subramanian who enjoyed her trust and other as Rigyajursama who had her devotion and dependence,” it had added.
The NSE claimed that the email ID named above, in fact, belonged to Subramanian. The claim was based on the fact that Subramanian also knew this ‘unknown person’ for 22 years. Moreover, he was party to all the email interactions between the CEO and the ‘yogi’.
The SEBI order attached several emails in its order, including one in which the ‘yogi’ instructed Ramakrishna to exempt Subramanian from five-day weeks.
Another email instructed Ramakrishna: “SOM, if I had the opportunity to be a person on Earth then Kanchan is the perfect fit. Ashirvadhams.”
Ramakrishna responded: “SIRONMANI, struggle is I have always seen THEE through G, and challenged myself to on my own realise the difference.”
‘SOM’ refers to Ramakrishna, and ‘Kanchan’ and ‘G’ to Subramanian, the regulator said in its order.
According to the order: “Ramakrishna in the emails sent to the unknown person shared information pertaining to NSE’s financial projections for five years, dividend pay-out ratio, business plans, agenda of NSE’s board meeting and consultations over the ratings/performance appraisals of NSE employees.”
Some of the other emails under investigation revealed that the unknown ‘yogi’ had been interacting with Ramakrishna regularly even on operational issues regarding senior NSE employees.
NSE’s other troubles
This isn’t the first time that NSE has been accused of lapses in corporate governance.
In 2017, when the exchange wanted to launch an initial public offering, allegations surfaced that its officials had provided some high-frequency traders unfair access through colocation servers, which could speed up algorithmic trading, giving unfair advantage to these traders over others.
Anand Narayan, who specialises in securities laws and works as an in-house counsel at a major private firm, told ThePrint that “SEBI’s order against NSE and its senior officials shows massive misgovernance issues in one of India’s leading stock exchanges”.
“NSE may like to challenge the order before Securities Appellate Tribunal. However, SEBI has yet again shown its firm intention to protect the interest of investors by acting against NSE,” Narayan said.
Monday, 31 May 2021
Sunday, 19 July 2020
India: Where does one turn when law, political parties and the state turn their back on justice?
P B Mehta in The Indian Express
Anand Teltumbde, one of India’s important and courageous thinkers, just turned 70 in prison. He, along with Sudha Bharadwaj and others, is being held in the Bhima Koregaon case. They are being repeatedly denied bail. Varavara Rao, poet and Maoist intellectual, contracted COVID and has been subject to degrading and humiliating conditions at the age of 80. The overwhelming power that the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act gives to the state, the sheer impunity with which government can treat this group of accused, the Kafkaesque role of the judiciary in denying bail and making procedural safeguards ineffective, and the deafening political silence on their detention, all warrant deeper reflection. The accused in the Bhima Koregaon case are not the first to be victimised in this way; and they will not be the last. The UAPA is being used to target protest from Assam to Delhi.
Anand Teltumbde’s work, particularly “Republic of Caste”, presciently forecast his own condition. He, like the others, has drawn support from the usual petition-writing crowd of intellectuals. But his case provides a disturbing window on the political loneliness of a genuine intellectual in Indian conditions.
Here is a well-known Dalit intellectual being put in prison and yet no serious political protest, even from Dalit politicians. Teltumbde had, in another context written, “When Sudhir Dhawale, a Dalit activist, was arrested in 2011 on the trumped up charge of being a Naxalite and incarcerated for nearly four years, there was hardly any protest from the community.” This phenomenon of figures like Teltumbde not drawing broader political support requires some reflection. Teltumbde himself, in part, attributed this to divisions amongst Dalits, and their greater faith in the state. But his work points towards a subtler reason.
For all of India’s handwringing, that we need to escape identity politics, there is a great antipathy to anyone who tries to escape it. Teltumbde is one of those rare figures who argued that the Left and liberals failed to take caste seriously, and caste mobilisation failed to take class and economics seriously. But the result is a kind of suspension in between two constructions: Most of society does not get outraged because he is often reduced to being a Dalit intellectual; Dalits don’t get outraged because he becomes a “Left” intellectual. The blunt truth is that, if we leave the rarefied world of petitions, the only modality of protest that is politically effective is the one that has the imprimatur of community mobilisation behind it. If you can show a community identity is affected, all hell will break loose; without it, there is no political protest.
Teltumbde was also prescient about the way the term “Left” is used in India. Teltumbde himself is closer to the Left in his economic imagination. But the rhetorical function of the “Left” in India is not to describe the contest over the free market versus the state. The rhetorical function of the “Left” is to describe any ideological or political current that, while recognising the importance of identity, wants to escape its compulsory or simplistic character; so any broadly liberal position or a position that distances itself from “my community right or wrong” also becomes Left. For Hindutva, anyone who resists or transcends the narcissisms of collective identity becomes “Left.” But the same is increasingly true of other identities — Maratha, Jat, Dalit, Rajput. “Left” is anyone who complicates identity claims. That, rather than secular versus communal, is the big chasm in Indian politics. But the result is that if you are labelled “Left” in this way, you will have no political protection.
The charge of Maoism is the hyper version of this “Left” in the context of Adivasi mobilisation. Which is why the entire political class, and so much of India’s discursive space, keeps invoking the “Left” spectre. And Teltumbde was insightful in thinking that once you had been labelled Left in India, it was easy to secure a diminution in your legal and cultural standing. Even the Courts will turn off their thinking cap. It is in this that the genuine intellectual enterprise is a lonely one, whose disastrous political consequences Teltumbde is facing.
The Bhima Koregaon cases also throw a spotlight on so many state institutions. The UAPA, and its ubiquitous use is a travesty in a liberal democracy. The lawyer, Abhinav Sekhri, has, in a recent article (“How the UAPA is perverting the Idea of Justice”, Article14.com) pointed out two basic issues with the law. The law is designed in a way that it makes the question of innocence or guilt almost irrelevant. It can, in effect, inflict punishment without guilt. The idea that people like Teltumbde or the exemplary Bharadwaj cannot even get bail underscores this point. And second, the safeguards of our criminal justice process work unevenly at the best of times. But in the case of the UAPA, the courts have often, practically, suspended serious scrutiny of the state. What legitimises this conduct of the court is two things: The broader ideological construction of the “Left” as an existential threat. And the impatience of society with procedural safeguards. The UAPA has in some senses become the judicial version of the encounter — where the suspension of the normal meaning of the rule of law is itself seen as a kind of justice.
The state has been going after Varavara Rao for his entire life. He is a complicated figure. He is an extraordinarily powerful poet who made visible the exploitative skeins of Indian society; his poetry, even in translation, cannot fail to move you out of a complacent slumber. He was formidable in consciousness raising. Of this group, his ideological excusing of horrendous Maoist excesses, has been indefensible and disturbing. His moral stance once promoted a deeply meditative critique on the morality of revolutionary violence by Apoorvanand (“‘Our’ Violence Versus ‘Their’ Violence”, Kafila.online).
But the farce that the Indian state is enacting in pursuing Varavara Rao in the Bhima Koregaon prosecutions is proving him correct in two ways. First, in his insistence that what is known as bourgeois law is a sham in its own terms; the rule of law indeed is rule by law. And second, that repression and degradation is indeed the argument of a despotic state. Where does one turn when law, political parties and the state turn their back on justice?
Anand Teltumbde, one of India’s important and courageous thinkers, just turned 70 in prison. He, along with Sudha Bharadwaj and others, is being held in the Bhima Koregaon case. They are being repeatedly denied bail. Varavara Rao, poet and Maoist intellectual, contracted COVID and has been subject to degrading and humiliating conditions at the age of 80. The overwhelming power that the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act gives to the state, the sheer impunity with which government can treat this group of accused, the Kafkaesque role of the judiciary in denying bail and making procedural safeguards ineffective, and the deafening political silence on their detention, all warrant deeper reflection. The accused in the Bhima Koregaon case are not the first to be victimised in this way; and they will not be the last. The UAPA is being used to target protest from Assam to Delhi.
Anand Teltumbde’s work, particularly “Republic of Caste”, presciently forecast his own condition. He, like the others, has drawn support from the usual petition-writing crowd of intellectuals. But his case provides a disturbing window on the political loneliness of a genuine intellectual in Indian conditions.
Here is a well-known Dalit intellectual being put in prison and yet no serious political protest, even from Dalit politicians. Teltumbde had, in another context written, “When Sudhir Dhawale, a Dalit activist, was arrested in 2011 on the trumped up charge of being a Naxalite and incarcerated for nearly four years, there was hardly any protest from the community.” This phenomenon of figures like Teltumbde not drawing broader political support requires some reflection. Teltumbde himself, in part, attributed this to divisions amongst Dalits, and their greater faith in the state. But his work points towards a subtler reason.
For all of India’s handwringing, that we need to escape identity politics, there is a great antipathy to anyone who tries to escape it. Teltumbde is one of those rare figures who argued that the Left and liberals failed to take caste seriously, and caste mobilisation failed to take class and economics seriously. But the result is a kind of suspension in between two constructions: Most of society does not get outraged because he is often reduced to being a Dalit intellectual; Dalits don’t get outraged because he becomes a “Left” intellectual. The blunt truth is that, if we leave the rarefied world of petitions, the only modality of protest that is politically effective is the one that has the imprimatur of community mobilisation behind it. If you can show a community identity is affected, all hell will break loose; without it, there is no political protest.
Teltumbde was also prescient about the way the term “Left” is used in India. Teltumbde himself is closer to the Left in his economic imagination. But the rhetorical function of the “Left” in India is not to describe the contest over the free market versus the state. The rhetorical function of the “Left” is to describe any ideological or political current that, while recognising the importance of identity, wants to escape its compulsory or simplistic character; so any broadly liberal position or a position that distances itself from “my community right or wrong” also becomes Left. For Hindutva, anyone who resists or transcends the narcissisms of collective identity becomes “Left.” But the same is increasingly true of other identities — Maratha, Jat, Dalit, Rajput. “Left” is anyone who complicates identity claims. That, rather than secular versus communal, is the big chasm in Indian politics. But the result is that if you are labelled “Left” in this way, you will have no political protection.
The charge of Maoism is the hyper version of this “Left” in the context of Adivasi mobilisation. Which is why the entire political class, and so much of India’s discursive space, keeps invoking the “Left” spectre. And Teltumbde was insightful in thinking that once you had been labelled Left in India, it was easy to secure a diminution in your legal and cultural standing. Even the Courts will turn off their thinking cap. It is in this that the genuine intellectual enterprise is a lonely one, whose disastrous political consequences Teltumbde is facing.
The Bhima Koregaon cases also throw a spotlight on so many state institutions. The UAPA, and its ubiquitous use is a travesty in a liberal democracy. The lawyer, Abhinav Sekhri, has, in a recent article (“How the UAPA is perverting the Idea of Justice”, Article14.com) pointed out two basic issues with the law. The law is designed in a way that it makes the question of innocence or guilt almost irrelevant. It can, in effect, inflict punishment without guilt. The idea that people like Teltumbde or the exemplary Bharadwaj cannot even get bail underscores this point. And second, the safeguards of our criminal justice process work unevenly at the best of times. But in the case of the UAPA, the courts have often, practically, suspended serious scrutiny of the state. What legitimises this conduct of the court is two things: The broader ideological construction of the “Left” as an existential threat. And the impatience of society with procedural safeguards. The UAPA has in some senses become the judicial version of the encounter — where the suspension of the normal meaning of the rule of law is itself seen as a kind of justice.
The state has been going after Varavara Rao for his entire life. He is a complicated figure. He is an extraordinarily powerful poet who made visible the exploitative skeins of Indian society; his poetry, even in translation, cannot fail to move you out of a complacent slumber. He was formidable in consciousness raising. Of this group, his ideological excusing of horrendous Maoist excesses, has been indefensible and disturbing. His moral stance once promoted a deeply meditative critique on the morality of revolutionary violence by Apoorvanand (“‘Our’ Violence Versus ‘Their’ Violence”, Kafila.online).
But the farce that the Indian state is enacting in pursuing Varavara Rao in the Bhima Koregaon prosecutions is proving him correct in two ways. First, in his insistence that what is known as bourgeois law is a sham in its own terms; the rule of law indeed is rule by law. And second, that repression and degradation is indeed the argument of a despotic state. Where does one turn when law, political parties and the state turn their back on justice?
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