The one hour thought experiment...

"All of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone"
-- French Philosopher Blaise Pascal

 I have been sick and bedridden for the last five days with the illness showing no signs of abating. 

My typical day goes like this.

1. Getup
2. Check Twitter, play wordle, do two lessons on Duolingo
3. Put the mobile down, watch TV
4. Close TV after binge watching for 2 hours.
5. Pick mobile, check Twitter, tweet on politics, retweet some random tweets, check Facebook, post my thoughts (usually nonsense), play spider solitare. Put the phone down in disgust
6. Pick the phone, check WA, my stock portfolio, read some random articles, watch multiple youtube videos. Put the phone down in disgust
7. Watch TV for another hour
8. Pick phone, check battery, keep it for charging
9. Try to sleep. See a dream. Wake up, pick the phone, google to check what the dream meant. Google says 'Dude go back to sleep'. Put the phone down in disgust. 

 After five days, one wakes up the reality. One is addicted to mobile phone.

That wasn't good. I should do something about it.

I decided to do an experiment. I will not touch any device - mobile, laptop, kindle, TV Remote, nothing, any book or pen for one hour. I will just lie down and try to be as 'thoughtless' as possible. I will observe my mind and my thoughts. If any outside thoughts interrupt my meditative flow, I will be aware of it, make a mental note of it to pursue later, gently push it aside and move back to my 'thoughtless' state. 

No input or output devices for the next hour. That is it. 

So it begins. 

I lie down and close my eyes preparatory to moving into a relaxed meditative state. Then I start coughing. 

I am worried. Why is this cough not subsiding even after 5 days? Should I do some checkup? Is it COVID variant? Doctor says it is allergic cough. What am I allergic to? How do I find out. Let me check webMD.com...

Wait.

What will I have for dinner? Gosh, I am famished. I will have bread toast and dry subzi. Not sandwich, though. Subzi should have that delicious aroma that will make you want to eat despite my illness. How do I get that flavor. Let me check tarladalal.com

Wait

I want my bread toasted golden brown. Our cook burns the edges and I don't like that. Let me search Google Images for 'White bread toasted to Golden Brown' and show it to her. Let me download the image now. It will take a minute.

Wait.

A couple of days ago, I dreamt that I was on Baby Gomati bus to Njaliakuzhi. Is it the right name? Let me check google.

Wait.

News is that Adani it taking over NDTV. Apparently he got hold of Ambani's 29 percent stake through backdoor. The strategy should be fascinating. I saw and article link on this subject on Twitter. Let me check this out. 

Wait.  

The Canon printer is not working. Let me raise a service request on Canon.com.

Wait

Adani's business is completely dependent on Modi. What will happen to him when Modi is gone? He will have to build bridges with many new leaders. That will be interesting. Let me post a Facebook post about that. 

Wait.

Why is my mind wandering too much? Let me check google to see how I can control my mind.

Wait.

There was a meditative technique propounded by Leo Babuata of  Zenhabits.com. You keep your eyes open and look at a distance and gradually start looking at the space in between till you gradually come closest to your face. 

I try that. 

Man, this is good. Why am I seeing two images of the same thing when I concentrate? I read that it is because both right and left eyes send the images to brain and brain syncs them and present you will one image. When you concentrate, you brake that sync process. 

Fascinating. What is the scientific term for the Sync process. Stereovision? Let me check google.

Wait. 

Have you noticed that the hindi letter for Ya as in Yaar and the English letter for y look the same? This is too much. I have been using both these language all these days and never saw this. 

Are there other similar letters? Let me google.

Wait. 

I want to listen to the song 'Karunasagara Kai Thozhunnen'. I want to listen to the part Matsya - Koorma - Varaha - Narasimha - Vamana. Let me see if it is available on Wynk app on my mobile. 

Wait

Lying on my bed, I listen to 'Never have I ever' playing on TV. Last I watched, Devi and Paxton had got into a big fight. Did he apologize and patchup? Let me check the episode on Netflix app on my mobile.

Wait

I think the dress that Maitrayee's wore for her interview with Fallon is Fabulous. I read that it has become a rage. Let me check Insta.

Wait.

Why do men have to always apologize? They are always wrong, that is why. Or, are they?  Let me check Quora to see if someone has asked that question. Answers will be interesting.

Wait.

Today the afternoon tea tasted better. Am I improving? 

Today I sent feedback to ITC Narmada. Hope they improve their performance.

We had Roti and Panneer Butter Masala in Peshwari restaurant of ITC Narmada. Like all other north Indian restaurant, they also give raw onion as complement accompaniment. Did you know that if you sprinkle a little chhat masala on the onion and then eat it with PBM, the flavour explodes inside your mouth. I have been eating this stuff for thirty years and I did not know this. 

How does this taste change paradigm shift happen with a sprinkle of Chhat masala? Let me check google. 

Wait

What are the other similar culinary secrets I did not know? Let me check google.

Wait

Chef Ranveer explains these well. Let me check his video of Panneer Butter Masala on Youtube. 

Wait

Why do I have this compulsive desire for instant answers? Let me check Google.

Wait

I look at wall clock. It is now one hour and fifteen minutes since I started this experiment. 

I never once touched the cell phone. I am not addicted to my phone.

Yeyyyy.....

Mats Wilander in Durgapur - A story in Twitter thread.

 Let me tell you a cute little story.

Today I was watching a short video of Mats Wilander of Sweden defeating Pat Cash of Australia to win the 1988 Australian Open. 1/n

The name Wilander triggered this memory 2/n

It was way back in 1989. I had joined Durgapur Steel Plant (DSP) as a 'Junior Manager'. DSP was one of the five big steel plants under the conglomerate Steel Authority of India Limited (SAIL). 3/n

In addition to Durgapur, the plants were located in Bokaro in Bihar, Bhilai in Chathisgarh, Rourkela in Odisha and Salem Steel Plant in Salem, Tamil Nadu. 4/n

In addition to the five biggies, SAIL also owned some smaller steel plants and iron ore mines. One of those smaller steel plants was Alloy Steel Plant (ASP), which as the no-nonsense name suggest produced Alloy Steel, which is a special steel (Think of Fortified Wheat, if you will. Same concept) 5/n

SAIL provided hostels for Bachelors to stay. For those working in DSP we had the 'Durgapur House' and for those working in ASP, they had the ASP Hostel. We shared a common mess. 6/n

Layout clear? Two hostels, one mess. 6/n

Now we come to that day in 1989. 7/n

I came to the mess at around 7.30 AM. As I entered I could see one ornary looking bloke sitting there quietly chewing his poories. He was so into eating that he did not look up to acknowledge my presence. 8/n

When he looked up I saw that the it was a face that will never write a thousand letters. May be a staff memo. Well no. 9/n

An unremarkable proletariat cog in the wheel of the giant steel machine. 10/n

I switched on the TV. The first news item to hit me was 'India's Ramesh Krishnan beats World Number One and Reigning Australian Open Champion Mats Wilander" 11/n

Stunning, right? I was stunned, and thrilled and excited. 12/n

I had to share my excitement with someone, anyone. There was only one person in the vicinity. 13/n

This cha chomping chupandale. I will have to do with him. I can't carry this orgasmic ecstasy for too long.  14/n

So I take ma plate (see that subtle change in tense from past to present, don't be tense) of Poories and walk up to him. 15/n

I sit opposite to him. His lips twitch to show his unhappiness with me selecting that one seat among 20 available in the room. 'Why', his eyes asked.

(Relax ma bro, I bring thee good tidings). 16/n

"Ramesh Krishnan defeated Mats Wilander in Australian Open. Big win for India", I set the ball rolling. 17/n

I would have expected an ecstatic response. At least as much enthusiasm as possible on a working day. A bit of enthusiasm? No? 18/n

"What?" he asked.

Thank god, he didn't hear what I said in the din of his tea chugging. I repeated my previous observ. 19/n

This time he heard. For sure he heard. I waited with bated breath (what is that anyway) for his ecstatic response. 20/n

He replied finally. With a different question.

"Who?" 21/n

"Ramesh Krishnan from India. He defeated Mats Wilander of Sweden, who is the current world champion", only thing I omitted was the name of the game. Should I have mentioned it? Was it too late. 22/n

After all who didn't know that Open was in progress? 23/n

He got up to leave. "I am sorry that I don't know anyone by that name. I work in ASP, may be this Ramesh works in DSP" 24/n

Do you hear that hissing sound. It is my ego deflating. 25/n

The cunning fox in the Aranyaka Forests....

Let me tell you a cute little story.

This is a futuristic story from Panchatantra....I remembered this story after I listened to Sekhar Gupta explaining the latest developments in Rafale Deal. To understand the story better, you must start off by watching the video. You can watch the video here.

Once upon a time in Aranyaka Forests there lived a Fox named Jagadamba.

Jagadamba wanted to buy a few items for the forest. Security items to prevent enemies from attacking Aranyaka Forest. So he signed a contract with Uditatma, a Zebra that lived in the nearby Triambaka Forest. Jagadamba signed a contract with Uditatma for 1000 rupees with an offset contract of 50%. This meant that Uditatma had to purchase 500 rupee worth of produces from Aranyaka Forests

Uditatma was to deliver the goods to Jagadamba only in 2022. However Jagadamba paid Uditatma 1000 rupees upfront in 2014. In modern terminology this is called 'Front loading of payments'. Uditatma could enjoy the interest benefit on 1000 rupees for seven years while Jagadamba waited for the material to be delivered to Aranyaka Forests.

However, the offset will come into place only 7 years later.

This means the offset contract was back loaded.

This was terrifically advantageous to Uditatma and bad for Aranyaka Forests. This is where Aranyaka Forests got cheated once.

The story is not over yet.

50% of 1000 is 500 in today's value. With an interest of 10% per year, the value would be about 1000 after 7 years.

By corollary, if Uditatma was paying Jagadamba 500 after 7 years, it is worth only 250 in today's value.

So that is where Aranyaka forests got cheated the second time. He thought he was getting 50% offset, but was actually getting only 25%.(assuming 10% interest rate, of course)

There is more.

In Aranyaka forests, there was a horse named Ashwagandha who had extensive experience in delivering such offset contracts. However Jagadamba ignored Ashwagandha and asked his friend Ajanachakya to apply for offset contract with Uditatma. Ashwagandha protested, but Jagadamba and his cronies branded him as 'Old and dilapidated horse'

Ajanachakya did not even know the business, he did not have technology, durukta (Sanskrit for 'bollocks', this is Panchatantra story, remember? ) he did not even have a company, but just with 12 days for offset contracts to set in he registered a company in Aranyaka Forest and Uditatma entered into an offset contract with the new company floated by Ajanachakya.

Ajanachakya did not know anything about the business. He did not know the 'Ah' to 'Ahm' (Sanskrit for A to Z) of Forest Security.

Uditatma did not stop there. For Ajanachakya, he modified the offset contract and made it front loaded.

Assuming Ajanachakya gets 10% of offset amount, he gets 50 rupees in today's terms, which is 20% of the Net present value of 250 rupees. So all the other offset contractors, instead of getting 90% of the offset amount will end up getting only 80%

In summary,

Payment to Uditatma has been front loaded
Offset to Ajanachakya has been front loaded.
Offset to all other contractors has been back loaded

In even simpler terms,

Jagadamba has already paid 1000 rupees to Uditatma
Jagadamba's friend Ajanachakya has already got 50 rupees of offset money even before a single unit is delivered..
Aranyaka Forests will get the first unit of old technology in 2022.

It looks to me (Acharya told the princes) It is like an elaborate scheme of Jagadamba for transferring money that belonged to Aranyaka Forest to Ajanachakya through Uditatma.

Why will Jagadamba let this happen? Will other denizens of Aranyaka forest understand that they have been taken for a ride?

Will they vote out Jagadamba in the ongoing Aranyaka Forest elections ?

My guess is as good as yours.

The lost purse...

Sometime in early 2015, while cycling in the Kopar Khairane area of Navi Mumbai, I found a purse lying on the road.

I picked it up. It contained a voter id card, about 40 rupees and a paper with a few phone numbers written on it. The voter id card said that it belonged to one Ramesh Prasad, son of Ramcharan, belonging to the Indian state of Madhya Pradesh.

I tried calling a few numbers on the paper. Some of the numbers were no longer available. Of those available, some answered, but most of them did not recognize Ramesh. Others who did, said that he was working as a helper in some truck service in Mumbai. One guy who claimed to know his family told me that he will inform Ramesh about my call an ask him to call me back. I left my number with him.

So, what do you do?

In a one pager on learning, Prof.Richard Feynman says that till you can explain an idea to an 8 year old, you have not completely learned it. Let us call it the '8 year old test'

There are four steps to this process.

1. Choose a Concept 
2. Teach it to a Toddler 
3. Identify Gaps and Go Back to The Source Material 
4. Simplify (optional)

So here is what I am going to do. There is one question that I frequently get when I talk to someone new. Most of you get the same question.

Arranged Marriage....

Please note: I don't know if the incident described below did actually happen. While the story below is described from memory (it is almost 25 years since I heard this story) and in a humorous vein (since it ended well, supposedly), forced marriages at gun point (know as 'Pakadua Vivah') is a major social evil and can destroy people as the news item below shows.

Check here for the news item 'Bihar man forced to marry at gun point'

You all know that we have arranged marriage in India, right?

In arranged marriage, the families (Parents) of the boy and girl meet, match the Kundli's (horoscopes) of the boy and girl,  and decide to seal their alliance by getting their children married to each other. 

This could take different forms, like more modern in some part of the country where boy and girl has some voice in the decision to other parts where the boy and girl only meets at the marriage venue.

However, in some parts of Bihar, even families do not meet. In these places, the groom is kidnapped at gun point, gets married to a girl in the kidnapper's family and after that the family of groom is informed. The kidnapper will ensure that the social status of boy's family is equal to, if not better than that of his family.

Surprisingly, after the marriage, the families accept the situation and they live together harmoniously.

Crazy, I know, but that is India

The story I am about to narrate is the story of one such marriage, but with a twist.

This story was told by Kaushal, the same guy who told me the story of Student Discount.

Kaushal was my colleague in Durgapur Steel Plant. He is a very good story teller. Often, when we were relaxing by the pool in Durgapur Club, Kaushal will come up with his stories, most of them from his childhood in Bihar.

"Aneesh Pandey was my batch mate when we were doing Engineering in BIT Mesra", Kaushal reminisced

"Aneesh was in Chemical Branch and I was in Mechanical Branch. Tall, fair and handsome, Aneesh was very smart and popular in the college. In addition, he was the son of a rich and powerful landlord in North Bihar. It was obvious that this tall and smart boy is a prize catch for any girl in the area.", Kaushal continued

"One fine evening, when we were in the final year of Engineering, Aneesh was kidnapped by the men of a local landlord, who had a daughter to be married off. It was towards the evening and before anyone knew what was happening, he was caught, pushed into a van and the van had taken off. Right from in front of our college hostel", Kaushal paused to sip the beer.

"In the case of kidnapped marriages, everything moves very fast. Aneesh's marriage to the kidnapper's daughter was fixed for late evening of that day. In Bihar, marriages are solemnized in the night. Aneesh was taken to the kidnapper's home, had a bath and was asked to wear new dresses and was seated at the marriage hall"

"Aneesh was a smart guy", continued Kaushal, "he realized that he could not do anything. He knew that this kind of marriage was common in Bihar. So he went through the motions without any objections, but always keeping an observant eye".

"The entire family of the bride to be was there. There was the father of the bride, the original kidnapper, his younger brother, another stern looking man, their mother, a regal looking old lady, their wives, and the daughter of the brother. In addition, the sidekicks of the family, who kidnapped Aneesh, were also there. The men were holding on to their guns, ready for any untoward incidents that Aneesh could provoke", Kaushal took another sip of beer.

"The marriages in Bihar are solemnized when the groom applies 'Sindhoor' (Vermilion, also known as the Red Dot) on the forehead of the girl. This is called 'Maang mein Sindhoor Lagana' (apply Sindhoor on the Forehead) and is a big deal in India. Only husband's have the right to apply the Sindhoor on his wife's forehead.", Kaushal explained, of course I knew this before, buy hey, this is Kaushal's story, remember?

"Marriage ceremony started, pujas (Prayers) were all completed and the auspicious time came for Aneesh to apply Sindhoor on the girl's forehead. Aneesh was handed the Sindhoor. This was the crunch time, the climax. All eyes were on him", Kaushal paused

I could anticipate that something awesome was about to happen. I could barely contain my excitement.

"During the ceremony was in progress, Aneesh's observant eye had found that the daughter of the younger brother of the kidnapper was very beautiful and was also of marriageable age. Their eyes had made brief contact and Aneesh knew that she was also very interested in him", Kaushal took another sip of beer. 

I was getting frustrated with his beer sipping at crucial moments in the story, but beggars cannot be choosers, can they?

"So when it was time to apply Sindhoor, instead of applying it on the forehead of the kidnapper's daughter, he applied the Sindhoor on the forehead of her cousin, the daughter of the brother. It all happened so fast that no one had time to react", Kaushal continued.

"Then what happened?", I was curious as dickens

"The kidnapper was livid. He felt like a lioness that did all the work in killing the pray and watching the male lion taking the spoils. His sidekicks were livid. Everyone was angry except...."

"Except for the kidnapper's brother. By applying Sindhoor on his daughter's forehead, Aneesh had now become his son in law. It had become his responsibility to protect his son in law. Aneesh watched in amusement as the two brothers and their respective sidekicks almost came to blows with each other and were pointing their guns at each other. The kidnapper's sidekicks were even pointing guns at Aneesh. It was chaos everywhere", Kaushal smiled at the thought.

"Finally the grand mother of the girl intervened and said that since Sindhoor was applied, the daughter of the brother had officially become Aneesh's wife. This was god's wish and the family cannot have the curse of making the daughter a widow by on the day of her marriage."

"The pujas continued after all this commotion and the marriage was solemnized. Next day, Aneesh's family was informed. They also came and took part in the festivities and all of them went back to live their lives as if nothing has happened".

"It is now almost 12 years since the marriage and Aneesh and his wife are the proud parents of two smart children"

"All is well that ends well", Kaushal concluded.

Student discount...

Kaushal told me this story when we were working together in Durgapur...

He did his graduation in Engineering from Birla Institute of Technology, Mesra in Bihar. Both of us had joined as Management Trainees in SAIL and were posted in Durgapur. We were working in the captive power plant of Durgapur Steel Plant and were very close.

Kaushal has this treasure trove of amusing stories and he has an awesome way of telling them. He will gradually build up the stories to a perfect climax. Most of the time you never know what hit you till he ends the story.

We were sitting by the pool side in Durgapur club one evening, relaxing, watching people swim in the pool and having a couple of beers. Kaushal launched into one of his stories.

'Ramu, did you have to struggle to get a job after graduation?', he asked me.
They had royally screwed my name, these North Indians. My parents, in their wisdom, kept it as Ramaswamy, and these guys had shortened it to Ramu.

(Of course, this is not the only way my name has been massacred and mutilated and transformed. For full details, read this story)

Those were the late 80s, the only jobs available were in Public Sector (Government) companies. Most of the PSUs (U stands for Undertakings) had their own recruitment process consisting of written test, group discussions (in certain cases) and interview.

The tests used to be held in different parts of the country and interviews used to be scheduled in the four metros, Delhi, Kolkata, Chennai and Mumbai.
The entire recruitment process was very stressful and challenging. There were more engineers passing out of Engineering colleges than what the economy could handle.

I said yes. All of us struggled. Who can forget those days?

'Me and my friends from BIT had written this test for a PSU and few of us including me got called for the interview', Kaushal reminisced.

'Interview was to be held at Kolkata. We reached Howrah (Kolkata has two railway stations, one at Howrah and the other at Sealdah) the previous evening. Since this was our first visit to Kolkata, we asked a Taxi driver to take us to a hotel. After asking our budgets, which were very low, the cab driver took us to a shady hotel in Howrah.", Kaushal sipped his beer.

"We were all tense about the interview. So we had a quick dinner in the hotel itself. After dinner, all of us assembled in my room. There were four of us including me, Rajesh Pandey, Rajiv Ranjan and Ashish Kumar. It was about 8 PM and we were wondering about the kind of questions that could be asked in the interview", continued Kaushal.

"Among the four of us, Rajesh Pandey is a very simple soul. He prays daily, do not use any bad language and is respectful of everyone. When we were in hostel, we used to make fun of him and tell him that he should become street smart. He had always in him to prove his machismo", Kaushal was in his elements now.

I told him that there are one or two such fellows in all Engineering Colleges, who want to live up to the Engineering College traditions (there are always some exploits of seniors to look up to). But they do not have the courage to do any adventurous activities. But almost all of them has a secret life, much like Walter Mitty.

Kaushal told me he did not care for Walter Mitty. He told me not to interrupt his flow of thoughts.
"While we were chatting, the manager came and asked us if we wanted a girl (Prostitute)", Kaushal said.

"Rajiv and Ashish were very excited, I did not have any views. Rajesh was repulsed and excited at the same time. You could see the struggle in his mind", Kaushal sipped the beer.

"Rajiv asked for the rates. He told the manager that we are students and were on a tight budget. Manager told us that we can negotiate directly and went out and in about ten minutes, came back with a girl."

"She was casual and matter of fact. She started explaining the rates for various services"...(he told me the services, but this being a family blog, I can't mention them), Kaushal was in his elements.

"While she was telling us the rates, Rajesh was getting more and more excited, blushing as he heard the services being mentioned.", Kaushal was smiling to himself.

"The rates were high. As students, we could not afford her services", did I notice some wistfulness in his voice?

"She concluded. This is when Rajesh asked a question that embarrassed all of us. He was now so excited that he did not know what he was saying", Kaushal took a strategic pause.

"What did he ask?", I asked unable to hide my curiosity.

"He asked her for student discount"

On getting old...

Man, growing old is hard..

Not in the literal sense, of course. One is growing old every moment, every second, every minute, every hour...

You get my drift.

You do not realize that you are progressively getting older. Everyday the mirror doesn't tell you about the new wrinkle on you face of the new strand of grey hair.

Or the puffs on your face.

You do not feel the incremental calorie taking shelter on your well endowed stomach, your chest or your temples..

You don't see all these...

Don't worry if you don't see that you are aging. Society will give you clues. Showing the mirror is its self assigned role.

First clue is when the neighborhood kids start calling you uncle. First time it happens, you take umbrage. You shout at them, admonish them and somehow wrench a 'Bhaiyya' out of their stupid mouths.

But for how long?

There is the next gen and the one after that. It is a parade of ever younger next generations. They pound you down till you accept being called 'Uncle'

You console yourself that these are kids. They have earned the right to call you uncle, if you see what I mean.

But that is not the case with the random shopkeeper. You are in the next level of aging when the random shopkeeper starts calling you uncle. 'Uncle, aap chai peeyoge?' asks the chaiwalla in the railway platform.

I run an innocuous hand over my graying side burns while giving him an eyeful. I have half a mind to dump the entire contents of the tea pot on his stupid head. I restrict myself to the mean look.

From 'uncle', it is a quick promotion to 'Uncle ji'. It is a more respectable uncle.

Shall I tell you a secret? 'Uncle ji' is a powerful phrase. You can use it to your advantage. Negotiate the heck out of that shopkeeper who called you 'uncle ji'. Indian society places a lot of importance to age. Use that reverence to your advantage. Negotiate to the last drop of blood from the shopkeeper who dared to call you 'Uncle ji'

He will crumble in the end, mark my words

"Aap se kya bargain karna uncle ji", he will tell you finally in exasperation, "you name your price".

My standard rate is 10% discount on the list price for each 'Uncle jis', including the one where he caved.

While the incidents that I mentioned above are normal, I have come across two situations that flummoxed me.

First was when I was interviewing a candidate for a job. This was in 2015.

"How old are you?", I asked in passing. He told me he was 26 years old.

I did a quick math, must have been born in the late eighties.

"My dad was 26 when I was born. He was born in 64", I am not able to fit this CAT question in context, but 1964 was definitely mentioned.

I was born in 1963, which means that sitting right in front of me was someone who could have been my son. I never saw THIS coming. (of course it had to happen some time, but it was surreal all the same)

My first experience of recruiting a guy who was young enough to be my son.

(As a non sequitur, I was married in 1993. Which means I had never had sex for four years when this guy's dad was reproducing like dickens !!)

Interviewing a guy who was young enough to be my son made me acutely aware of my age and the aging process...

The second episode when I became aware of aging was even more bizarre...

One of the advantages of growing old is that you learn that girls like flirting and aging process comes with a license to flirt with pretty young girls. 

In the office I work, there are two girls in our department, both in their 20s, one from Maharashtra and the other girl, Nitya, from Kerala.

I smile at them everyday and wish them a cheery good morning. I generally comment on their hair style or their pretty eyelashes.  Girls like these, you know.

They also respond with enthusiasm.

I was kinda proud that I was able to flirt effortlessly with PYGs.

I still had that 'Ram Charm'...

One day, while I was signing the attendance register, Nitya, girl from Kerala, came to me.

"Can I tell you something?", she asked.

Of course you can, darling. Ram is always receptive to 'something' told by pretty girls.

"You look just like my dad. Every time I see you, I remember my father living in Kerala"

Damn.

Damn, damn, damn...

All these days, every time she looked at me, she was seeing her dad in me. On weekends, when I work casuals to office, and she commented, "you look different today", she was probably planning to buy her dad a pair of jeans and a T shirt (with words, 'Man for all seasons' written on it) on her next trip to Kerala.

Let me tell you, looking like some one's dad is the worst thing that can happen to you. Especially when they are away from family. It is OK if you did not know. But once you know, you don't know how to handle it. How do you handle that yearning look of love and affection? How do you handle that critical look when you say or do something 'unfatherly'? What is the approach to handle this? Is there an SOP?

Knowing that you look like some one's dad is tough.If that someone is living alone and away from the family, the knowledge can be unnerving.

And finally, if you look like the father of a pretty young girl, it can be downright deflating.

On the positive side, every time I look at Nitya, I also started thinking that had I had a daughter, she would have looked as pretty as her. One of the few times when I was proud of my sperms. They have taste.

On going to airport, or how in life you cannot assume anything....

Man, life is tough...

You can't assume anything in life. The default settings are always set against you..

For example,

you go to a restaurant and order,

    a veg do pyaza: the chef would dump his entire stock of chilly powder into it, unless you specifically state 'Mirchi kum'. You can't assume 'medium' spice. The default assumption is that you are the greatest chilly lover in the universe...

     a cup of coffee: The default setting is lots of sugar and 'extra sweet' coffee. If you want less sugar, you have to explicitly state. You can't just assume 'normal' sugar in your coffee

It is not just food. Wrong default setting is everywhere. Have you not heard the saying 'a bread falls with buttered side down'? That is the default setting of a buttered bread, right there

Universe is always conspiring against you. How much careful can you be? Easier said than done.

The incident I am about to narrate happened to me on 7th December, 2017...

It was morning 7 am and I was about to leave my hotel  ('Rush Inn on Bank Street, Meena Bazar Dubai') for the airport to board the Indigo flight to Bangalore. I had three pieces of luggage with me, all heavy, and I wanted to reach the airport well in time, having given an extra 30 minutes, just  in case. 

I came out of the hotel and hailed a taxi...

When you hail a taxi anywhere in Dubai, you will naturally assume that the driver will know the way to airport, right? I mean, it is not a big city by any standard and is a tourist destination. Carrying people to an fro from Airport is the bread and butter of a normal taxi driver in Dubai.

You expect to dump the luggage in the boot (in India we call it Dicky, for some reason), casually sit in the car, tie the seat belt and blithely ask the driver to take you to Airport Terminal 1. And he will be like 'Yes sir, which route should I take? Maktoum or Garhoud?' and you expect to ask him to take the quickest route, preferably with no Salik (toll tax in Dubai)

Right? 

Right? 

Wrong...

When I told my taxi driver (blithely of course) that I wanted to go to airport, the first question he asked is 'Do you know the route?'

Wait, what? 

He was from Pakistan and was new to Dubai. In a place teeming with taxis, I had chosen a taxi driver who did not know the way to my destination.

He switched on his GPS and we started our adventure, him and I. He opened Google Maps, typed 'Airport Terminal 1' and we were on our way.

(If you ask me why I did not take another taxi, I direct you to the section about my heavy luggage. Also I had a buffer of 30 minutes, remember)

Despite working in IT field and all that, I am still getting used (euphemism for 'I have no clue') to Google Maps. I am from the old school that believes that god has given a mouth with a tongue to ask for directions. Here was this driver, expecting me to guide him using google maps.

Nothing teaches you the concept of 'Space Time Continuum' than navigating using google maps. If it says 'go straight for two kilometers', you can be certain that there will be multiple decision points on the way that will strain your concept of 'Straight'.

It it says go straight for '400 meters and then turn right', you will be confused if you have to take t he right after 200 meters, 300 meters, 350 meters (it will feel as if all the roads turn right !!), the first right or the second right at 400 meters. And you will invariably take the wrong right (see the clever play of words there? Unagi !!!)

Even when you finally reach the airport, if you assume that you will be directed to the departure terminal, you are wrong. Unless told specifically that you want to go to departure terminal, the driver will end up taking you to the arrival area, one level below.

If you assume that trolly will be available nearby, you will be wrong...

If you assume that someone will guide you to departure terminal, you will be wrong...

Finally, if you assumed that flight will depart from Terminal 1, they would have rerouted it to T3...

MEMEHIF Paradoxes: Episode 2

MEMEHIF (My Engineer MBA Educated Highly Intelligent Friend) recently returned from a trip to Singapore. When I met him, he had only good things to say about Changi Airport.

"Awesome airport, bro", he said, 'bro' being the impact of meeting some young americans in S'pore, I suppose, "Must see, this Changi airport. Huge. Most impressive is the security guys. Young guys walking around with AK47s, their eyes are ever watchful to any funny business. Non-invasive is the word that I am looking for. Security is non-invasive. They trust the people but do a very good oversight and in case of any problem, they are quick on the uptake", said MEMEHIF

Normally this torrent is followed by a philosophical discourse. It was not long in coming.

"Public policy should be non-invasive like the security at Changi. It should not intrude into the lives of citizens. It should gel with the daily lives of people.Government should set rules and have good oversight, but must stay out of people's lives. Government should govern, it should not be running business. 'Minimum government, maximum governance' must be the mantra for any government"

"But demonetization is a serious intervention to the lives of individual citizens, isn't it? Forcing them to stand in line to withdraw their own hard earned money is the highest level of government intrusion into private lives. Do you agree with this?"

"Indian people are different. They listen only to the language of 'Danda' (Stick). You need someone superior to force them to do things that are good for them. Logic doesn't work for Indians", he replied.
P is for paradox....

MEMEHIF Paradoxes: Episode 1

MEMEHIF is a dear friend of mine. Early in our friendship, I asked him about his unusual name.

"My father wanted me to be a friend to all. He also wanted me to be highly educated. In addition, early in my life he realized the I had a high IQ. So he wanted everyone to call me MEMEHIF, which stands for 'My Engineer MBA Educated Highly Intelligent Friend' ", he told me.

We have some highly involved discussions of late, MEMEHIF and me. Sometimes, I find his arguments paradoxical, though I do not tell him so.

Here is one such argument.

"Investing in FD is better than investing in Stocks. At least your capital is protected and your money earn some positive growth", I tell him

"Are you crazy?", he asks, "Equity is the best form of investment available for long term. Stock market leads the economic growth of the country"

"Ever since this government came into power is 2014, Sensex and Nifty have hardly moved", I point out.

"How can you consider stock market as a barometer of economic growth?", he asks, " There could be umpteen reasons why the stock market goes up and down.", he deadpans.

P is for Paradox....

Here is another example...

"Demonetization has impacted the poor and vulnerable the most", I tell MEMEHIF

"Do you know what is the percentage of poor in India?" he asks me.

"I read somewhere that it is about 400 Million. Should be around 40% or so", I respond somewhat cautiously.

"Your data is so outdated. 400 Million poverty was in 2005. Currently it is about 200 Million. So it is not that 'Poor' are significantly impacted. In fact 'Poor' form only about 25% of India's population. You are making a mountain out of a small hillock". He responds.

"So that means that most of the poverty reduction in India happened during UPA Rule. Right?" I ask him.

"Dont be stupid (MEMEHIF can be harsh, but he means well), what can you get at 32 rupees per day, which the per capita poverty baseline measure? The poverty reduction numbers are a joke. UPA was a disaster.", MEMEHIF replies somewhat caustically....

P is for Paradox...

How Sagarika Ghose spoiled three days of my life...

The day started innocuously.

I got up and as usual checked my mail and checked social media for any interesting bits of information.

One tweet by Sagarika Ghose caught my eye.

I read the original article in IE. It talked about Tina Dabi being the first ever Dalit Girl to top the UPSC Civil Services Examination.

The previous day I had read about Athar Aamir Ul Shafi Khan from Jammu and Kashmir who won the second rank in UPSC Civil Services Exam. I was feeling really proud that only in India this kind of achievement possible. First ever Dalit Girl to top the exam ever. A muslim from strife torn J&K topping the exam. This was a classic example of the strength of diversity of the country and I strongly felt that we should nurture the diversity, the culture of excellence and the enabling environment that this country provides for such achievements.

Add to that,  first ever Dalit Girl to top in the history of exam (She got on merit and not through reservations)!!. This breaks all notions of caste and religion. This is the true India. I felt proud. I should tweet about it.

And so I did. I tweeted the following tweet.

 I was very sure that people would see my tweet for what it was. Celebration of the greatness of the country that enables such achievements. That the first ever Dalit Girl topper in Civil Services exam was a proof of how much progress we have made. That we should be proud of the diversity and the culture of excellence in the country. To emphasis the point I added #ideaofIndia and #Proudtobeindian for good measure. Readers of my tweet should have no doubt about my intentions.

And within minutes Sagarika retweeted it.

Almost immediately, Arvind Kejriwal, CM of Delhi retweeted Sagarika's tweet.

I felt happy. With a leading journalist and the dynamic CM of Delhi retweeting my tweet, I felt that I have arrived as a 'tweeter'. And that my message was being well received.

I was waiting for kudos and likes from the public. After all, who will argue with my point? Who can miss the spirit of my tweet extolling the greatness of India? I just have to count the 'Likes' to my tweets. I would have done my bit to make India happy and proud of itself.

Or so I thought...

I had not factored the power of Sagarika Ghose and Arvind Kejriwal to evoke strong emotions. It is almost Pavlovian. The moment they tweet something, some people will have to oppose, mostly using bad language.

Twitter notifications started coming in thick and fast. They were mostly directed at SG and AK, but I was also included since I was the originator of the tweet. It accused SG and AK of focusing on 'Dalit' and 'Religion'. They criticized them for trying to divide the country along caste and religious lines. Many of them pointed out, rather paternally, that the topper was 'Indian' and the second topper was 'Indian'. Some asked us to stop this 'Gandhi Soch'. One nasty tweeter, supposedly a student, also called it 'Kutti Soch'. He may be a student, but definitely has not learned anything so far in his life.

Some tweets hurt.There was one dignified middle aged lady who tweeted a terse 'Sick Minds'. One guy said that the 'Guy who tweeted should be ashamed'. Some of them were inspirational. 'The lady who topped is an Indian, the guy who topped is an Indian', said they. (How would that have looked? "Indian top civil services exam, Indian is the second topper. Proud to be Indian'. Would not have got retweets from Sagarika Ghose and Kejriwal). 

Also, it would have been a boring tweet.

In all fairness, there were many who appreciated the spirit of the tweet by retweeting the same. Unfortunately, they, like the electorate in MCD, were the silent majority. Personally, I think that they have to speak out much more. They should not be cowed down by the expected negativity from one group of tweeters. 

To say that I was taken aback by all the negativity will be an understatement. However, soon I realized that most of these negative tweeters have not understood the real message of the tweet and were tweeting negativity only because of their reflexive antipathy towards Sagarika and Kejriwal. Once I realized that, I calmed down.

But I was not done. I decided to respond to each of the negative tweeters. On day one, I was very factual and objective. I pointed out that 'My tweet was to celebrate the achievements of the winners. The focus was on the diversity, culture of excellence and rewards for hard work that India offers. This kind of achievement is possible only in this country. The tweet conveyed my pride about being a citizen of this great country. The tweet was never about Caste / religion. Caste / religion of the candidates are publicly known facts. They are incidental to the tweet'.

Of course, this was the message that I conveyed. In some tweets I emphasized the diversity, some I focused on Culture of Excellence, Reward for Hardwork was stressed in some other tweets. However, the Pride in the greatness of the country was common in all the tweets. I emphasized that the tweet was not about Caste / Religion.

Some understood my response immediately. They came back with dignified responses like 'Ok' or 'Appreciate' or 'Now it is clear. Thanks' etc. Some blamed Sagarika Ghose and Kejriwal. Their response was something like 'We understood the spirit of tweet. But people like Sagarika and Kejriwal and determined to try and get votes based on Caste / Religion.' While I responded to most of them with 'I respect your opinion', to some I pointed out that they were 'missing the greatness of the country by focusing on one or two individuals'. Most of them did not respond further. What I did not tell them was that while disliking some people was Ok, using bad language was extremely uncivilized. 

They wouldn't have understood anyway.

There were others who were very idealistic. We should strive for classless and casteless society, said they. Tweets like these (mine) were only encouraging the casteism in this country, they opined. I pointed out that the caste and religion of the candidates was a public information. While a casteless and classless society was an ideal we should aspire for, we should celebrate these small achievements on its way, I pointed out. Most of these discussions ended up pleasantly with me sharing with them my blog post on 'My Idea of India'.

That was my gift to their civility and readiness to engage in idea based debates.

Some focused on the word 'Muslim' in my tweet. Their response was like 'What if a Hindu had topped? Would it not have added to the 'idea of India'? I am sure you would not have been so '#ProudtobeIndian' as you are now.'. I tried to respond that theirs was a hypothetical tweet and I am not going to respond to hypothesis.

The tweets came thick and fast on day two also. Now I had got the hang of how to handle such tweets. On day two, I was aggressive in my response. My response was to hold them responsible for their statements. I asked questions like 'The focus of tweet was on the greatness of India. Why are you focusing on two words?'. My attempt was to point out that while they talk about the greatness of India, it was hypocritical to miss the spirit of the tweet, which was the greatness of India, and focus on caste and religion. 

On day three, the flood of tweets subsided. I had become adept at handling the tweets and had realized that most of the tweeters can't hold a decent facts based debate. I had become bored with their negativity and reflexive responses. I decided to have some fun and decided to do a 'Trump'. To the few tweets that came, I responded with 'My tweet was about the greatness of India and you find only caste / religion in the tweet. Sad' or to that effect. I did this because I understood that they have not read the tweet properly and had responded only because Sagarika Ghose retweeted the same. If anyone responded to that tweet of mine, I beseeched them not to miss the greatness of the country by focusing on two words which were public information, anyway.

At the end of it all, two tweets stood out. One was from a lady, who kept insisting that I was a casteist and mine was a propaganda to strengthen casteism in the country. I think she was a Brahmin from Tamil Nadu (I am just going by her Tamilian Name), because I  had heard similar arguments from my relatives in TN. While I sympathised with her, I pointed out that my tweet was limited to the greatness of India and I did not have any other agenda.

Another tweeter left sour taste in the mouth. His twitter profile stated that he was a student. I was wary of responding to him because, you know, he was a student and he was at the beginning of his life and all that stuff. He started off by using bad language. When I tried to clarify the tweet (this was on day one, I was on a clarification mode), he responded by asking me to 'Shut Up' and stressed the points in his original tweet (that I had clarified). I was losing patience with him and pointed out that 'the easiest way to win arguments was to use bad language and accuse the opponent of being biased'. He responded with more invective. I had had enough and so I responded replying that 'I respect your opinion'.

He had the last word though. His reply? 'And I don't respect yours'.

He may be a student. But he need a lot of education.

I learned two things. One, most of the people in twitter can't handle facts. And they can't debate. Sooner or later they will resort to bad language. Smart people can easily see through their emptiness. That is the reason Sagarika Ghose is not responding to most of the tweets. She understands that by responding to the tweets, she is wasting tweeter's time and is not adding any value to the tweeter. Two, I am not an expert on everything out there. I am not an expert on Cricket, Politics, Caste, Religion....It is better to be modest and try to hone my ideas by engaging with others in serious debate. 

And if they can't debate, or if the debate is not going anywhere, or if you really respect their opinion, or if you are not learning anything new, close the thread by saying 'I respect your opinion'. Also if you don't know something, accept that you don't know. Your respect will increase manifold.

Remember, whatever you tweet is public information. Do the 'Grandchild' test before you tweet. Answer the question, 'Will my grandchild be proud of this tweet of mine?'. If your answer is 'Yes', then tweet.

Finally, most of the tweets in my thread were response to Sagarika Ghose. Just by retweeting my tweet, Sagarika Ghose made me waste three days of my life.

Why Sagarika Ghose? Why?....

Old lady and the villa...

I don't know when I had written this story. I found it very amusing...

 

"Yeah! it's finally over! Today is the last day" I thought to myself as I shutdown my laptop to go and stand in the boarding queue.
 

I stood among the other passengers at the Changi International Airport thinking, "2 more hours and I would be in the taxi back home"
 

Little did I know that it was the beginning of a very long journey.
 

Just as we began boarding, a petite old lady in a bright purple dress began cheerfully arguing with one of the ground staff saying "son, I would never do that" and then suddenly out of nowhere a few guards appeared holding their AK 47s menacingly.
 

The ground staff was holding an inhaler in his hand.
 

"What is this?" he asked suspiciously
 

"This is an inhaler for my bronchitis. I need to use it in case I develop spasms during the trip" replied the lady pleasantly.
 

"You can't carry aerosol spray in your cabin baggage. I will hand it over to the crew. You can ask for it if you need it during your trip" replied the staff.
 

"Thank you" replied the lady
 

Something about this lady intrigued me. Was it her pleasantness?
 

In the flight, I found the lady sitting next to me. We chatted a bit. She told me that she is from Madrid. And she was on her way to See and feel the 'real India', as she put it. Her first stop was Bangalore.
 

She had made no plans. She will first visit Bangalore and then take off from there to different parts of the country.
 

The flight landed out in Bangalore. After completing the formalities. I got out and took a taxi.
 

Suddenly out of nowhere, this lady got in my taxi.
 

"Take me anywhere. I want to see the real India. You are the only person I know here" she said.
 

It was 12 midnight and I was sitting in a taxi in airport with a loony lady who wants me to take her 

anywhere. I was perplexed.
 

I looked at the cabbie. There was a serene, 'Its-your-problem' look on his face. No help there.
 

"Maa'm where do you want to go?" I asked her.
 

"Take me to Vidhana Soudha" she said
 

"At this time?" I was frantic.
 

"Yes, it says that the structure is brilliant at night." she replied
 

Off we started off for Vidhana Soudha. Once we reached there, as she said, the structure was 

awesome. 20 years in Bangalore, and I never knew that Vidhana Soudha is lit up beautifully at night.
 

Next she wanted to see Shivaji Nagar.
 

I had the ride of the life. We visited Bangalore Palace, Cubbon park, Lalbagh, MG Road, Temples in Vijayanagar...All at night.
 

We had snacks to eat from 'Thindi Veethi' near lalbagh, had tea and bun from roadside stall. The doctor in me told me that junk food is not good, but hey, what the heck? It was delicious.
 

The whole experience was new for me. Driving in Bangalore at night, I saw how much I had missed the color and smell of the city. Bangalore was beautiful by night. And after 20 years in Bangalore, this was the first time I was seeing the city in the night. In the dreary every day life of 'Home-Work-Home', I had missed 'Living'.
 

By about 6 AM in the morning, I was so enjoying the trip that I felt a little disappointed when she wanted me to drop her at any hotel so that she can take some rest. I dropped her at Hotel Atria near Vidhana Soudha and headed home. Before leaving her, I handed her my visiting card.
 

To say that I forgot the whole experience would be wrong. How can you forget such experience? 

I received this letter two months ago.
 

"Dear Ram,
 

Thanks a lot for taking me all over Bangalore that day about 6 months ago. It was one of most cherished days of my life.
 

As you know, I wanted to see the real India. After about 4 months of traveling, I reached Haridwar. There I attended a sermon by Baba Shubhanandaji. He convinced me to give up my material life and embrace a life of spirituality.
 

I have decided to follow Swamiji's advice and give up all my earthly possessions. I don't have any living relations.Since you were the kindest person that I have met in my life (ever since my husband died), I have decided to make you as the sole heir to my fortune."

That would be one heck of a disappointed Swamiji, I think
 

Anyways, I pen this story, sitting in my Villa in my Vineyard in Madrid.

The Mango Seller and his ego....

Recently I traveled to my home state of Kerala in South India...

I am a Malayali (a native of Kerala). For work and career purposes, I have moved out of the state but occasionally visit the state.

This time the business took me to Kochi, in central Kerala. On a Sunday, early morning, I went to Town, for a morning walk at Marine Drive, a walk way by the side of the sea.

There were a few fruit vendors near Drive at that time. I wanted to buy a Kilo of Mango.

"What is the price?", I asked the vendor.

"Rs.100 a kilo", he replied. I told him it was expensive. In other places, I can get the same for 80 a Kilo.

"How much are you going to buy?", he asked. I said I wanted to buy a Kilo.

"Why are you arguing for just 20 bucks?", he wanted to know.

I took the high road. "It is not the money. It is the principle of the thing", I replied.

"Here mango costs 100", he replied flatly. It was like 'you take it or leave it'.

I checked other vendors. Every vendor around was selling mango for 100 / Kilo.

I could have bought it from anyone, but I wanted to buy from the first vendor. For, I had taken the high road there, you see. I wanted to make amends.

I went to the first vendor and told him, "I will buy from you. Give me one kilo"

"I won't sell mango to you", he came up with a surprising answer. Now it was his turn to take the high ground.

I tried to explain. "Boss, I am the customer, I have the money, you are here to sell stuff. If anyone has to feel ashamed, it is me. I had rejected you and now I am back here to buy from you"

No effect. He did not sell me the mango.

Who is right? Who is wrong? Is it only Malayalees? Who knows?

Who cares?

Whats in a name?

Please note: This is a humorous post. If you do not laugh or smile reading this post, it is your problem. You just lack the required humour quotient, that is all.

You know why I don't write a novel?

It is not that I don't have any ideas. I have plenty of them. I can write about a guy who spent his childhood days in Kerala, about another guy who spent his engineering college days during the late 80s, about another person who has been a  part of both the old economy and the new economy and has seen the best of both 'economies', about an ERP Consultant who loves his job, about a person who has a lot of interests but fritters away his time and talent moving from one passion to the next.....

I can write about many topics.

They why am I not writing a novel? or a story?

The reason is simple, I don't know how to name my protagonist.

Every time I think of writing a story, only two names come to my mind, one is Rahul and another is Rohit. Nothing else.

Unfortunately for me, my protagonist is from the state of Kerala. Rahul and Rohit are not the kinda names that parents in Kerala give to their progeny. Names like Baby, Saji, Jiji, Ebby, Biby, Liji, Siji, Siby, Seby, Sabu, Prince etc are more like the norm in that part of the world.

So are Karunakaran Nambiar, Sahadevan Kurupu, Subramaniam Iyer, Vasudevan Namboothiri, Bhaskaran Nair, Krishna Kumar Menon, Viswanathan, Bharathan, Vinayan etc. You throw a stone in the south of Kerala, and it will fall on someone with any one of those names.

Not Rohit, not Rahul either.

And these are the only two names that I can give to my protagonist as I think about writing a novel.

English writers do not have this problem. Any western name sound apt for any part. The protagonist names and their roles are mutually interchangeable. For example, you could have a Stuvert Rumpnell or a Frederick Kettering (This was the name of the hero in one of my childhood novels, that I tore into pieces of course, but the name still rankles), Ebenezer Magellan or Ewoke (Pronounced ee-woo-Ke) Holding....

All of them will make fine protagonists. You need the name of a detective? What about detective Ewoke Holding? Need a good name for a Banker? No problem, you can use Ebenezer Magellan (He started the 'Magellan Banking Trust'). Need a janitor who also doubles up as a neighborhood arsonist? Go for Frederick Kettering.

Or you could flip the script. A writer of English Novels could make Kettering as a banker, Holding as a janitor and Magellan as a detective without batting an eyelid.

You see my drift. For a western novel or story, any name is Ok. It has to sound westernish, that is all.

Ok, coming back to the problem at hand, if you think that I am being a harsh on Kerala, you are factually incorrect. (I mean 'you are wrong').

The problem is the same if you take a protagonist from any part of South India. I could take a Palaniappan or a Pichaiappan or a Kattabomman from Tamil Nadu, a Manjunath or Devi Shetty from Bangalore, a Sooriya Krishna Reddy from Andhra or a Bhaktheswar Gokhale from Maharashtra. The fact remains the same. These names are not sexy. It is difficult to imagine Sooriya Krishna Reddy as a Banker navigating in the upper echelons of the Banking Industry in Wall Street. At most he could be imagined as a local money lender.
Or for that matter, you can't write the story of a world renowned cardiologist with the name Devi Shetty from Bangalore. Just does not fit.

That is where I appreciate Sathyajit Ray. To create a detective with a name like 'Byomkesh Bakshi', and unleash him among unsuspecting public needed some guts.

I often wonder about the name 'Byomkesh Bakshi'. Even in a place like Bengal, where convoluted names are more of a norm rather than the exception, where names like Debabrata, Tathagatha and Oindrella float around like pollen, it is difficult to imagine a couple naming their child as 'Byomkesh'. As such it is difficult to pronounce. With a rasagolla in the mouth, it is impossible (to pronounce. Do I have to explain everything?).

May be that is why Ray gave that name to his detective. There is an advantage that the writer of  mystery novels enjoy that writers of other genre of writing do not. He need not use the name of the protagonist a lot in a detective novel. The usage of the name is optional. As an author, he just has to stealthily sneak in, early in the story, that the name of the detective is 'Byomkesh Bakshi'. Just create that association early in the reader's mind. That is all. He need not mention it again. He can manage the entire story with phrases like 'Detective took out his flashlight...', 'Detective smelled something fishy (apt for a Bengali Detective, methinks)', 'the piercing eyes of the Detective looked intently into her eyes' till ending the story with 'as usual, when the detective explained the process, he made it look so easy'...

After reading the story, the reader is relieved that the Old Lady died due to natural causes and the stab wound on her chest was just an accident (she accidentally fell on a sharp object) and that the suspect, sweet, young, adorable Amitaba is innocent. She doesn't care for the name of the detective. 

See, no need for the author to reiterate that the name of the detective was Byomkesh Bakshi. Mentioning once is enough.

(Same is the case if you are writing the story about a Doctor. You can write an entire novel saying 'Doctor did this', 'Doctor did that' etc without even once mentioning the name of the doctor. Do not believe me, watch all 10 seasons of 'Doctor Who' and tell me the name of the main character. But it is not easy if you have two or more doctors in your story and you have to tell the story of their professional rivalry or their love. Imagine how convoluted 'Grays Anatomy' would be if one character says 'Doctor, I am going to kiss you now' and the other responds, 'Doctor, I am waiting with bated breath'.

Damned confusing. You don't know which doc is going to kiss and which doc is having breathing troubles..)

While a complex name is ok in a mystery novel, that is not how it works in the story about an ERP Consultant. The name has to be repeated ad nauseum. Of course, one could write about a protagonist named (Let us say) Karunakaran Nambiar, top notch ERP consultant from Kerala. Typing that name itself is an effort. Also it is difficult to imagine 'Karunakaran Nambiar' as an ERP Consultant, implementing ERP Solutions in Latin America. 

If it is difficult for an author to write the story with a protagonist whose name is Karunakaran Nambiar, imagine the plight of a reader who has to sit and read the novel. Every time he reads about ERP Consultant Karunakaran Nambiar, his head spins. He gets a headache as he tries to pronounce the name. His tongue twists. Literally.

Of course, the reader might have some options. He could blackout the name 'Karunakaran Nambiar' with Astrix like they do to swear words on Indian Television. For example, he could read like  'the requirement gathering meeting that ************ ('ERP Consultant Karunakaran Nambiar') arranged with the customer was very stormy'. Or he could read it as blank spaces like 'It was a happy day for ' <                       >' (ERP Consultant Karunakaran Nambiar).

You get the gist.

The reader could avoid the confusion by following this methodology

But it is not fun. As a reader you do need to read the name of the protagonist. You need to identify with him. You need to feel his agony and share his ecstasy.

You can do that with Kettering or Rumpnell or even with Ewoke (see you are already on first name terms with him....)

But not with 'Karunakaran Nambiar'. By the time you read 'ERP Consultant Karunakaran Nambiar', you have lost the thread of the story. You get frustrated.

You don't bang your head. You just tear and throw the book in fire (what the arsonist Stewart Rumpnell would do, given a chance,  a crime which detective Kettering would eventually solve, of course) and run.

I don't want you to do that.

And that, my dear readers, is the reason that I don't write a novel.

I have only two names for my protagonist.

Rohit and Rahul.

And both do not fit the milieu, if you see what I mean.