Mr 30 per cent

BACK in the old economy, Calcutta boxwallahs spent their days in a haze of gin-and-tonic and golf. Now, in the big bad New Economy corporate...

BACK in the old economy, Calcutta boxwallahs spent their days in a haze of gin-and-tonic and golf. Now, in the big bad New Economy corporate execs-turned-admen hang out with photogenic ministers with scary ideologies. They advise untidy-haired chief ministers on ‘‘bhagidari’’ schemes. They throw VVIP parties where every almost guest is guarded by Black Cat commandos. And they buy 30 per cent stakes in, by some accounts, strange media companies.

Strange companies be damned, Suhel Seth, co-CEO of Equus Red Cell, loves centrestage. Some say he’s obnoxious and arrogant, others say he’s a man on the make, still others say he always gets the job done well. His conquest of Delhi has been fast and furious. His spectrum of friends ranges from Fali S Nariman to Laloo Yadav. Recently, the breast-shaped cake on his 40th birthday party — in which captains of the Establishment slashed at the chocolate nipples with knives — was almost front page news. He acts in avant garde plays. His collection of columns is called ‘In Your Face’.

He provides hardcore marketing services by day. Equally hardcore are the stories he tells his envious male friends about what he does every night. And even as his E class Mercedes snarls in the driveway, he reminds everybody, three times a day, that he pays all his taxes.

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All fine and comfy. With Arun Jaitley as Moti Mahal companion and best buddy, life can’t possibly be rough for sadde Great Gatsby — or maybe Great Gasby. But is the dream coming a little undone?

There are whisperings and Seth finds himself in a controversy. He is the largest shareholder in a company floated in odd circumstances. MCCS may be a front for Rupert Murdoch’s backdoor entry into India. A shell company clearly designed to pull the wool over the government’s eyes on the uplinking of Star News.

Did he do it because he wants to be a media baron? He says, ‘‘No, I’m not a media baron. But good news is always good business.’’ Outside his rooms there is a huge bouquet and a personal letter from a magazine editor. Inside, three glamorous corporate wives seek his advice on event management. Seth leans back and lectures freely. ‘‘Oh my god,’’ scream the wives, ‘‘he’s so wired!’’

On his shelf, there are photos: Seth with Goldie Hawn. Seth with Prannoy Roy. There are cups, shields and medals: ‘‘129 plays,’’ he beams, ‘‘a book on marketing, an AMP from Harvard Business School. I set up Concern for Calcutta. I even invented the name Bhagidari. What f..&*%$ Page Three? I’ve always been on Page One.’’

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Why does Star need Seth? Some say because he’s safe. That MCCS is just a play, a drama in which Seth is simply being asked to do what he does best: act. Act as lead shareholder. Act aggressive and say, ‘‘So what?’’ Act like Falstaff. Others say his public school English, let-it-all-hang-out blunt style and I’m-a-child-of-economic-liberalisation energy will sway the government.

But there is also a chance that Seth might have bitten off more than he can chew. Balancing Amar Singh and Pooja Bedi at a party is okay. But keeping afloat in a world of big money where the stakes are chillingly high? That may be a little different from cutting a birthday breast cake.