Arun Lohia is a hard man to see. Not simply because he is busy. He’s also weary: ground down by bureaucrats; exhausted by hostile trades unions. In the fading summer sun, he almost seeks to disappear into his grey office wallpaper – India’s own bleak version of Philip Larkin’s Mr Bleaney, existing only in a surreal form of corporate half-life.
“There’s this word in Hindi: ‘Gherao’,” Lohia says, spreading his hands almost meditatively. “It means encirclement, confinement.
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