Krish was a seasoned doctoral researcher, dead ends were nothing new to him. He was not disappointed hearing Professor Goldstine’s verdict. It would have been too easy if he had gotten the answers he was looking for on the first try. On the other hand, he was heartened by the professor’s journey of accidentally stumbling upon the notebook. Krish’s active mind saw untapped potential, not a dead end.
Krish attended the professor’s lecture later that day. He felt reassured that if Professor Goldstine, and many others, could benefit from Ramanujan’s work, so could he. I trust my hunch about Ramanujan. I’m sure he has the mathematics I’m looking for.
Back at the hotel he was staying in, Krish observed the night sky. Stargazing was his favorite activity. Mars was approaching closer to Earth. It was the brightest red object in the sky. It appeared to be a shining red beacon, attracting attention, urging the imaginative mind to speculate about it—not unlike a seductress, tantalizing and setting the imagination of the onlooker on fire.
He realized that he was enjoying the sense of adventure and discovery in this endeavor he had undertaken. The next logical thing to do was travel to the place of Ramanujan’s origin—India. With everything he had been through, going home sounded exactly like what he needed. He could use a little moral support from his family. Plus, he would finally get to see Prisha after all these years.
The thought of Prisha brought a smile to Krish’s face. He was eager to hold her delicate, young body in his arms, kiss her, make love to her and share his exciting research with her.
Krish landed in Mumbai, India. The heat and humidity made him feel immediately at home. He began thinking about the implications that his research and philosophy might have for India.
The brand-new airport terminal was world class. Krish was impressed to see stringent security, even at the perimeter of the airport, far away from the gates. The hospitality of the venders, the genuine smiles of people, and surprisingly helpful immigration and customs officials made him feel welcome.
Krish treated himself to his favorite chai-tea, samosa, and spicy pav-bhajee, thick gravy topped with melted butter. It really hit the spot after such a long time. He was truly glad to be home. He seamlessly transitioned into his mother tongue, Marathi, as soon as he got an opportunity. It was a warm embrace of familiarity that acted like a soothing balm on his wounded mind and soul.
At the food court, a sturdy young man with cropped hair, short, thick, chevron mustache, and wearing a khaki safari suit walked up to Krish and said assuredly, “We will protect you discreetly until you get back to America. Please continue your activities without any hesitation. We are proud of your research. You make India look strong among developed countries.”
He then disappeared into the crowd without hearing Krish say, “Good to know…thanks.”
Krish stepped out of the airport and walked toward the line of waiting cabs.
“Please use this cab, sir. I am a poor farmer who had to take up driving to feed my family,” one of the cab drivers pleaded.
He had heard about the hardship of farmers due to the heat and lack of rain. The parched land and the farmers were literally dying for rain. Increasing population, poor crop choices, single sources of livelihood, lack of water management, political apathy, and predatory money lending at exorbitant interest rates had combined to create a deadly trap for farmers who were committing suicide by the thousands—all due to a single failed crop!
Krish hired the cab. He had dozed off during the ride home. The tremendous force of jet lag had overpowered the adrenaline rush of seeing his family and Prisha again. He was woken up by a knock on his car window.
“Roll down the window, sir,” a young boy, less than ten years of age, urged Krish as he dangled a small string necklace made of jasmine flowers. “For your girlfriend or mother maybe.” Women wore such flower strings in their hair for ornamental purposes.
“How much?” Krish asked, rubbing his eyes. He didn’t need the flower string, but the boy was urging him, pointing toward a lady with a baby sitting by the roadside—apparently his mother. The boy’s livelihood depended on it. Instead of studying and going to school, he was thrust with the responsibility of being the breadwinner for his family at a tender age. Krish could only imagine the exploitation that family must be facing from the police and local thugs.
There was something ironic about the situation, a kid who was innocent like the flowers, was eking a living by selling them—even as big hoardings and loudspeakers blared about religion and powerful politicians made promises about housing, clothing, and food over and over again during the democratic elections. All only to be forgotten for the next five years until the elections were due again. The dance of democracy!
“Ten rupees, but for you… I will make a deal in five,” the boy said, trying to make a sale. “Three for ten… it is a good deal, take it. Fresh flowers and very good smell, sir.”
Krish smiled kindly, “All right, three please.”
The boy handed over three flower strings to him through the half-opened window. As Krish reached into his pocket to get the money, the signal turned green and the car started moving. The boy’s heart skipped a beat. In a flash, his eyes were a mix of emotions—fear of losing money, helplessness over the car driving away, betrayal if Krish didn’t pay on purpose, possible consequences for his family if he lost the goods, possible hunger and beating!
Krish couldn’t bear to see the boy’s helpless face. He tapped on the driver’s shoulder to slow down, the driver shook his head indicating he couldn’t slow down due to the traffic. The boy ran with the car to get the money. Finally, Krish managed to get a fifty rupees bill from his wallet and almost threw it out the window to the boy. The boy got the money and flashed a smile that spread from ear to ear. He touched the bill to his head and said, “Thanks, sir!” as he got out of the way of oncoming traffic. The boy had risked serious injury for a very small amount of money.
Krish’s sharp mind analyzed the situation of the farmers committing suicide and millions of people living in squalor. These are hard working, industrious people. In this country, solutions also exist for these problems. The situation is similar to the US—with its terrorism, economic, and social problems. If only individual humans could be made aware of their power, they could influence their reality and live the way they want as the free individuals they are! In such a liberated and free state, there cannot be corruption and there cannot be a man creating problems for other men just to make more money for himself. I cannot wait to prove this mathematically! Krish fantasized.
Krish was enjoying his stay at home—sharing stories of recent events with his parents, eating fresh homemade food, and simply relaxing. It was the healing environment that his mind badly needed. He was also very eager to meet with Prisha. He called a mutual friend, Jia, to find out how was Prisha doing.
“Why do you want to know?” Jia asked him. Jia worked as a lifestyle coach. She was a close friend with a strong personality—very confident and funny. She was dark-skinned, medium height, with short, black hair. She wore thin glasses with a trendy red frame. She carried a few extra pounds, but dressed smartly to attract more attention to her ever present, genuine smile, sharp nose, and pretty, round face.
“I’ve known her from the time she worked on a research project at BARC. I was just curious what she might be up to these days.”
“Well, while you were gone, she got married and had a baby,” Jia answered flatly.
“Married? Wow, so soon?” Krish tried to hide the disappointment in his voice.
“Oh! Was she supposed to wait for her knight in shining armor? She found a decent guy and got married. That’s what her parents wanted too,” Jia added as if she were stating something that should be obvious.
“Well, she didn’t strike me as the homely, obedient type, but I guess I was wrong,” Krish said. He was crushed. He really thought they had something going between them, but then again, with women you never truly know what they’re thinking.
He swallowed his bruised ego, the pain of rejection, and being passed over, and tried to get ahold of his emotions. He calmed down within a few moments.
“Are you there?” Jia was trying to find a reason for the silence on the other end of the line.
“Yes, yes, bad cell signal,” Krish lied. “I’m delivering a plenary talk at IIT Bombay next week, please come,” he said in an attempt to change the subject.
“Oh yes! I haven’t slept in a while. I’m sure your lecture will help with that. I’ll be there with bells on!” Jia said playfully. “If babies are allowed, I’ll see if Prisha can come too,” she added mischievously, fully aware of the chemistry between her friends.
Krish looked confident and relaxed as he got ready to present his work. He stood with a laser pointer and remote control in his hand, presenting his findings to a room full of researchers from diverse fields.
“He’s so cute, love his confidence,” one student whispered to her friend.
Krish wore a dark suit and shiny black shoes. His rimless glasses adding a scholarly touch to his sharp look. He was in the perfect zone, presenting his highly cited, groundbreaking work that had applications in defense to communication, and if expanded, could help understand the nature of the universe. He fielded several queries from researchers with varying scientific backgrounds. He engaged in a lively debate with them, answering questions and raising new ones. At the end, he received a standing ovation from the room. Every single researcher present was inspired by this young man, his work, thought process, and ideas.
Krish was busy packing up his presentation materials after the talk. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a tall, muscular man, who didn’t look like a typical scientist, observing him and walking toward him rapidly.
Before he got too close, he was stopped by a man in a safari suit who caught him from behind by the waist, called for help, and contained the situation without causing a disturbance.
Krish shook his head and thanked his stars. He packed his laptop in his leather bag and was about to leave when he was pleasantly surprised to see Prisha and Jia approaching the dais.
“Hey Krish. Excellent talk… it’s been a long time,” Prisha said with a tinge of humor and emotion. He could see right through her even as she confidently shook his hand. She was an extroverted, self-assured young lady.
Krish blushed and his heart raced. It felt surreal to have the woman he had been dreaming about for so long within a few feet of him. She looked so beautiful. He couldn’t stop staring. He honestly couldn’t be sure that he had blinked at all since she’d walked up. She wore formal black slacks and a silk, cream-colored blouse that covered her delicate shoulders. Her thin neck stood tall above the collar of her shirt, her long hair tied neatly, her pants hung seductively from her hips, covering her long legs. She brushed against him, looking directly at him as she needlessly adjusted her hair to further reveal her perfectly oval face and soft pink lips. They would have made an impressive couple.
“What have you been up to?” Prisha asked.
Krish was woken out of his dream state by her words. “Nothing much, just research. How is everything with you, married life, kids?” he asked as he looked at Jia. He didn’t notice any jewelry on Prisha that indicated marriage. Wearing a wedding ring was not part of the culture in India, and the traditional necklace indicating the status was not generally worn in a professional setting by women.
“Oh God! Really? That’s the first question you ask?” Jia interjected. “Mr. hot-researcher, you can ask her that when I leave. In fact, I have to go now. I have a meeting at the other end of the city, see you later,” Jia smiled. “Beautiful slides, steady voice, clear thought pattern, enough excitement and energy, deep knowledge of subject matter… good job overall! I have a lot of questions about your research, some other time,” she added. She then whispered in Krish’s ear, “Enjoy! I can tell she wants you too!” Jia winked mischievously and left the conference hall. Krish smiled at Jia’s words.
“Have a good time dear,” she said to Prisha as she strode away.
Prisha drove Krish to a highly rated restaurant at a 5-star hotel in the city. They sat at opposite ends of their booth. As they placed their order, Prisha moved closer to Krish, brushing against him. Her freshly washed hair had a pleasing, light sage-sandalwood smell.
“Well, I’m not married. Jia was just pulling your leg,” Prisha said, concealing her laughter as she gently touched his shoulder with her hand.
“Oh that brat!” Krish said, faking anger, but feeling relief.
“After you left, I cracked into the Indian Institute of Management, Bangalore. They have a 1% acceptance rate—one of the lowest in the world,” Prisha said proudly. “Then the entrepreneurial bug bit me, and I got together with some friends and started a company in the area of the Internet of Things, IOT, connecting various devices in our homes seamlessly for security, comfort, and convenience. I’m the VP of Marketing. My philosophy is: retire early, retire rich.”
“Wow! Congratulations! Awesome job!” Krish was genuinely happy to see his woman so successful, smart, and sexy at the same time. He had never been so impressed.
Their outlooks on life were different. He was a mathematician, and a physicist who wanted to understand the true nature of life and the universe. He was a deep thinker, philosophical, and a little shy when it came to things other than science. She was a go-getter, extroverted; she liked to take charge. She was happy with the world as it was and wanted to generate wealth, grow a business, make money, then go ahead and do something else. Very entrepreneurial. He enjoyed their totally dissimilar viewpoints. He loved her for being so independent and successful.
The next time Krish and Prisha met was at a party at a friend’s farmhouse. She wore a dark Kanchivaram silk saree with kalamkari motifs and a sheer, backless, modern blouse—a perfect blend of traditional and contemporary. They hugged lightly as they met, grabbed a glass of fine red wine, and went to the garden in the backyard to lounge on the grass.
Dark clouds hovered over the grey mountains. Perhaps inspired by the scenery, she loosened her saree pleats held together over the shoulder by a pin and playfully covered his face with the garment. He inhaled her enchanting fragrance.
In the white moonlight, the flowers appeared gentler and softer. The yellow seemed more vivid, the shades of pink near the bottom of the petal appeared darker, the bright red looked more pleasing. Krish looked at her intently. She smiled. Her lips looked softer, darker, and more inviting than ever. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her close to his chest. He slid his hand around her waist, resting it on the small of her back. She gently swung into him and put her head on his chest. He was eager to look in her eyes, but she had closed them in this peaceful embrace.
He tenderly massaged her back and shoulders, enjoying the feel of her against him.
She suddenly pulled away, looked him straight in the eye, and grabbed his neck, kissing him wildly. She pulled him toward the grass and rested her body on top of his. The woman who had occupied his dreams from years on end, was now—in every way—his reality.
Krish and Prisha enjoyed casually dating. Cooperation between the US and Indian government meant that Krish could focus on his personal life for a few weeks without worrying too much about people hell-bent on causing him harm. Krish wanted to search for Ramanujan’s lost papers. But, he was newly in love and did not want to be away from his sweetheart. He ignored his yearning and decided to enjoy his time with Prisha, at least for the time being.
After one particularly enjoyable dinner-movie date, they returned to Prisha’s apartment and were snuggled up in a blanket with some hot chai tea and bhajia, making plans for the future.
“What better place for entrepreneurship than the Silicon Valley and the San Francisco bay area? We could live in California.”
Prisha thought for a moment before agreeing, “Yep, we can make that work.”
Prisha’s parents, however, did not approve of her lifestyle. She had received a nast
y e-mail from them saying, ‘You are on your own now. Don’t expect any support from us. You face the consequences of the decisions you made without our consent. Good bye.’
Prisha’s independent decision making about her career and romantic choices did not go over well with her parents’ conservative thinking. While they supported her education, they felt they were being sidelined, and that she didn’t have enough experience to deal with so many facets of life on her own. Tradition and age were locking horns with newfound independence and confidence. The result was the cold shoulder, taunting, and negativity from her parents. Prisha felt lonely and abandoned. Dating without commitment was raising eyebrows from Krish’s parents as well.
“Oh boy, this situation is getting complicated, especially with the parents,” said Krish.
“Let’s meet with Jia and see if she has some advice. She’s good at understanding such family politics. She is a lifestyle coach after all. We can pay her,” Prisha suggested.
“Let’s do it,” Krish agreed.
Krish and Prisha met Jia over dinner. Jia listened carefully.
“Similar stories are unfolding in one way or another in my other friends’ and clients’ lives too. The power of capitalism unleashed after opening up the socialist Indian economy to the world is creating unprecedented opportunities and wealth on the one hand, but also conflict and rivalry on the other hand. That’s why my business is flourishing.”
“Understood,” Prisha said, sounding annoyed. “Your theoretical analysis does not help with our situation. Do you have any advice for us?”
Tenth Avatar: A quest for answers Page 10