Chapter 17

People who used to visit Mr. Naman or his parents for the first time always showed regret to see that Mr. Naman was at home. They always assumed that he was unemployed and was unable to find any kind of work. I think by seeing Mr. Naman at home everyday on a weekday, anyone could assume this but what made it special was that the confidence of these strangers on their assumption. They were willing to even place bets of amount equal to their one month salary claiming that Mr. Naman was indeed a good for nothing person. It is not clear what gave them such confidence, was it Mr. Naman or was it just vibes that he emitted.

But it was not always like that. Mr. Naman's boss, the editor had made it mandatory initially for Mr. Naman to sit on an office desk and write his articles from there. It was only when people sitting close to Mr. Naman's office desk said that they will resign unless Mr. Naman leaves that desk or they are given a desk in some other room. What force could have prompted a normal middle class security loving person to take such a drastic step, offering to sacrifice his career. The editor was shocked to hear such an ultimatum and decided to allow Mr. Naman to work from home, as desired by him in the first place. Mr. Naman although was surprised by the editor's change of heart but took the news in a positive manner. He reached home and told his mother
"Ma, From tomorrow, i do not have to go to office. The editor allowed me to work from home."
"But why? He refused initially na?"
"Yeah, he did. But some of my colleagues threatened to resign if he didnt do that"
"Oh God, Why would your colleagues take such extreme steps, were you troubling them?"
"No ma, I think the correct term here is office presence."
"oho, now what is this office presence?".
"It seems like you do not learn from all those movies and tv series that you watch. Haven't you heard off the term screen presence? Screen presence - when an actor dominates the screen just because he is in the camera frame, often good actors have this ability. I have the same ability when it comes to office. Not everyone is able to handle it. In movies, it often makes the other actors sharing the screen jealous. I think the same thing happened here as well. Ofcourse, you can not blame me for being such an exceedingly good employee".

Mr. Naman's mother eventually stopped interrogating her son and went to pray to thank god that atleast her son still had a job. But, what was the thing that Mr. Naman did or rather not did that within one month of his joining, his colleagues acted as they did.

Had it been a Akbar birbal story, i would paint the scenario in Birbal like manner where Mr. Naman asked his colleagues deliberately to act so, giving them the confidence that they will not be fired. If Mr. Naman gives an ultimatum that he would resign if he was not allowed to work from home, then surely he would be fired. But if his colleagues did that, there is a possibility that he can still keep his job and get what he wanted. But, the sad part is that it is not an Akbar Birbal story. This is about Mr. Naman. And it has everything to do with Mr. Naman.


While Mr. Naman was coerced to work from office, he was given a desk, and fortunately for him, it was next to a window. It was a third floor office with glass window facing to the beautiful hills of Ugar. The control of the window was completely in the hands of the person who sat next to it, yes in hands of our very own Mr. Naman and his first act in his new desk was something that had never been done since the window was constructed - He opened the window. Gush of wind blew in, fresh, cool air with bright sunlight came into the office and it blew all the unclipepd papers lying on all the desks in that room. Everyone was quite annoyed by the air except for one person and who was looking at his new colleagues with a smiling face. It was not a smile of mockery but a genuine innocent smile of receiving the wind at an altitude of 40 feet above ground. Not bothered by the commotion of his colleagues who were rushing to pick papers, he raised both of his hands as if he was flying. It was the first time that Mr. Naman was standing in front of a window of a third storey building with such a beautiful weather.

With that gesture everyone knew that the window will not be closed until Mr. Naman was there. But they accepted it as they also felt good with fresh air coming in. But what annoyed them the most in the coming days was Mr. Naman's way of working. Mr. Naman used to stare out of the window for most of the time during the day. As if his article was hidden behind those far away hills. Wind was his secret messenger, a spy that would steal one word, one line or one para sometimes from the hill and would bring it to Mr. Naman. He sat holding a pencil, a pad in other hand and just stared outside the window occasionally scribing something on his pad. All others around him were very puzzled by his modus operandi. But it was not limited to this only. One common habit Mr. Naman had while writing his article was that he would smile several times without any reason. He smiled whenever he felt happy within. Although Mr. Naman didn't like the idea of working from a desk, but still he found immense happiness staring out the window. The window was his escape from the usual office life. He used to laugh whenever a strong gush of wind hit his face. He would smile and nod, as if the wind had whispered something interesting in his ears. Then he would scribe something on his pad. Everyone around were immensely puzzled by his behavior. At first they thought that he was crazy but when they read what he had scribbled, they were shocked. His article was beautiful creative.

Mr. Naman's colleagues used to ask him about his habit of staring outside the window but Mr. Naman declined to reveal the secret outside the window. This annoyed them much. But what really made them cross the white line against a white background were Mr. Naman's innocent offers. Mr. Naman thought that others should also see the beauty around them, he would often call them and encourage to see outside the window, sometimes even persisting strongly to ensure that spend atleast half an hour everyday with nature outside. In their busy office lives, a luxury of half hr breaks was not permitted, especially if one is not trained to do so. Believe me, it requires great practice to do nothing and Mr. Naman was an expert in this art. Sometimes he would just sit with his legs hanging outside the window, hands folded across his chest and just look outside the window while sitting in his chair. I think i forgot to mention but he was also wearing kurta-paijams. He would just stare outside, not even writing anything, just stare and smile, smile and stare. He would urge others to join but for others this was a "un-official" thing.

What puzzled them most was that their productivity was equal to Mr. Naman's productivity. Clearly, they believed that Mr. Naman's productivity was not very high, it meant that their productivity was also not that great. They blamed Mr. Naman for it, as they thought that he was acting as a distraction to them. And so they complained to resign or change rooms or change Mr. Naman's desk. Little they realized that in that one month, their productivity had actually increased. Little the realized that in that one month, they were sometimes happy while working. Little they realized that by closing window, they were closing their thoughts as well.

Thus, it was a window seat that got Mr. Naman a free ride to work from home. There are some days when he decides to sit at his desk, days when he is reminded of that third floor window air, days when the clever wind decides to sneak out more messages from that hill. On those days, his colleagues too, knowing that it is just going to be one day in a month, enjoy the wind and do not work. Now, they look forward for Mr. Naman to work from office, it is on those days that they relax.

Chapter 16

One night, Mr. Naman was busy working on his article or something. His parents called him for dinner but he said that he was busy and will eat later. His parents finished their dinner and then his mother asked him to eat dinner later and clean up the table after it. Little did she know what horror was to greet her when she would woke up next morning.

Mr. Naman, after sometime, finished his work, ate his dinner and started the "cleaning process". One of the utensils used to serve rice was looking too empty. Since most of the rice had been consumed, only a small amount was left, Mr. Naman did not like the idea of storing such small amount of rice in such a big container. So he decided to empty the contents in a small bowl. But it was not that simple. Rice quantity was more than that could fit in one small bowl. And surely using two small bowls was against some fictiously made principles of Mr. Naman. So he decided to look for another bowl with size bigger than the small bowl but smaller than the current bowl. Unfortunately, he couldn'd find any bowl that met the above requirements.

But Mr. Naman is the sort of the person who gets to solutions no matter what happens. Bowl sizes are trivial problem to him. He started scanning all kitchen shelves to find a suitable utensil. He saw a small teapot whose dimensions told Mr. Naman that it would be enough to store the remaining rice. Then, there was nothing left to ponder. Ten minutes later, he was sleeping safely in bed having stored the rice in a small teapot.

There are somedays when even Sun does not want to come. Yes, the Sun was skeptical to come on the day when Jesus was crucified or when MahaBharath begun or when it was Mr. Naman's first day at office. Today also, our Sun is delaying its arrival, hoping for a miracle that can save him the embarassment of what is about to happen. Sun, who gets all its information from the Moon, was very well aware of what had transpired in the night and for this very same reason knew what was about to happen. Many of you dont know but this is how fortune tellers work. Every morning they capture the sun's image on their crystal balls and that is enough for them. Nothing can escape the Sun. The only trick that those fortune tellers know is how to read the Sun which by the way is no trivial task. But with little persistence, it is easy to master as our Sun is not very good in hiding its emotions.

Coming back to the point, the Sun saw no option in front of him and with some delay was back in action. Mr. Naman's mother woke up as usual, a little late but she had a good sleep. She was happy on seeing that the table was clean. It was customary for people in Ugar to drink tea in morning. She made her way to prepare tea. Generally pouring tea into teapot is the last step in the tea making process but what made the calamity come sooner was that milk is stored in refrigerator and thats the place where that teapot was kept. She opened the fridge and was puzzled to see the teapot lying there. Curiosity is not a good virtue everywhere. She opened the teapot and was shocked to see rice in there. "Hey Ram!" (Oh God!) screamed, a very loud scream it was, loud to get her husband out of the bed without tea (a rare incident indeed!), even the Sun who had prepared himself for such a case flinched. All the birds nearby Mr. Naman's house flew in directions radially opposite to the house, neighbors also felt it. But it was not enough to disturb Mr. Naman's sleep. Mr. Naman's mother could have fainted but over the years she had experienced several such accidents. She was a much stronger woman now.

What is this? Why would anyone do it? Are there aliens on Earth? Was there a burglary yesterday night? were some of the thoughts that came to her mind first but then after a minute she remembered saying "Naman, clean up the table after you eat.". She had said this to him and then "Nooooooo". The realization was a big blow but whatever happens, happens for a good.

Mr. Naman woke up after a couple of hours and those two hours were literally like days for his mother. She was sitting like a solid rock in living room when he entered with the usual relaxed innocent look. His mother was trying her level best to maintain a calm face even though internally she was searching her soul for answers which she did not have. She had to ask him. So she started -

Mother(M) : How was the dinner last night?
Mr Naman (N): It was good.
M: And did you have a good sleep?
N: Good. You do not look ok, whats the matter?
M: I am fine. Why?
N: Nothing. Just your face looks pale.
M: Its nothing. Acha, were you the one who kept rice in the teapot?
N: Yes, whats the matter? We do have other teapots to pour tea into?
M: Yes, we DO have more teapots. But why on Earth did you put rice in a teapot?
N: I looked for other containers. Some were too small, others were too big. Teapot was perfect. Whats wrong with putting rice in a teapot?
M: You ask whats wrong with putting rice in a teapot? "Hey Ram" "Save me lord". Everything is wrong in putting rice in a teapot.
N: Why?
M: Because it is a teapot. It is meant to serve tea. Not rice.
(She could not control her anger this time. Her voice was becoming louder with each line and it was at the top now. Mr. Naman's father had gone for his daily walk intentionally to forget about the incident and precisely to avoid Naman's answer)
(The Sun also pulled Earth a little closer to itself to hear clearly what Mr. Naman was about to say. Human race had always fascinated him and it is in times like these when he always discovers something new about our race. Owing to Sun's pull, everyone was feeling the heat except Mr. Naman ofcourse).
N: Shhhhhhhh. Don't shout Ma. Speak slowly. The teaport will hear you. You know that the teapot is used to serve tea. I know that the teapot is used to serve tea. But the teapot doesnot know that its purpose is to serve tea. Until, the teapot complains, we can use it in a way that we find is appropriate.

There was silence everywhere. Mr. Naman had won! The Sun wiped sweat from his brow and was satisfied.

Chapter 15

As discussed briefly in the last Chapter, Mr. Naman is writing a book. A book about people and their lives in Ugar. The idea came to Mr. Naman when he was writing an article in the local newspaper about how friendship developed between a paan waalah (Betel Leaf seller) and one of his regular customer who is also dying of cancer. The article was based on a true story, a story narrated to Mr. Naman by the Betel leaf seller himself. The Betel leaf was the only luxury permitted to that cancer patient because of his stomach condition. The article described how the patient related that paan with his life's dreams and what he would do had he lived longer etc. It was quite a touching story and Mr. Naman had done a good job writing it as well. Many letters were sent to the Paan walah and to the patient by local newspaper readers.

Mr. Naman realized that there would be many such stories going in Ugar and people in Ugar. It was a well known fact that Ugar was one of the most peaceful towns in the entire world. People were always smiling, strangers bowed when they crossed. People knew their vegetable sellers by their names and knew about their family as well. Vegetable sellers were also well aware of their customer's requirements. There was competition between sellers but it was healthy. They often met on holidays and discussed their stories with each other. There were no trade secrets in Ugar, because there was only one ubiquitous fact - Love and be kind. This was the principle followed by doctors, by engineers and most importantly by lawyers as well.

Mr. Naman liked the idea to document this spirit of Ugar. He didn't had to invent characters as he would take real people and write about real stories. Things that he he had observed while growing up, Stories that he had heard from his grand parents, stories that are present in the air, stories contained in the hills of Ugar, stories blowing in wind, stories flowing in rivers, stories discussed between ladies in their tea parties, there was so much going on in this small town. So many angles, so many dimensions, the scale was quite big. There will not be any plot, just stories, one after another, some building on others, some just flying independently. Mr. Naman had decided that he will not invent stories, rather it will be re-tellings or first hand telling of original events. You might have heard of the saying that truth is stranger than fiction, but Mr. Naman believes that not only truth is stranger, it is more satirical, more ironical and ofcourse more confusing that fiction which makes it interesting as well.

Among the people in Ugar about whom he had chosen to write about, he was also one of them. Surely Mr. Naman feels that he is an interesting character in Ugar. But there was one catch Mr. Naman had not thought before. Since he is writing about Ugar and he himself is living in Ugar, he will also be there as one of many in his stories. And since Mr. Naman is going to write about true events only, Mr. Naman in the story will also be writing about Ugar and his writings also need to be covered as they are fascninating according to Mr. Naman. And within those writings there will again be another Mr. Naman living in Ugar and writing about Ugar who would be doing the same. It is like Hand drawing a hand or that painting of Escher where water always flows down. It is like showing mirror to mirror and counting reflections. Such would be the recursion, each one writing about oneself in the story.


But there are more compelling questions as well. Is it possible that Mr. Naman in story writes something different than Mr. Naman? What if there is a disagreement between the Mr. Naman in story and Mr. Naman. Who shall decide? Who wins? Mr. Naman believes that he is smarter than the Mr. Naman in his story as story howsoever real it may be is bounded by the finite number of permutations of words. But reality is vast than that. Mr. Naman in story however responds that you can produce Shakespeare even in million years if you give typewriters to thousand monkeys. So permutations may be finite but its interpretation are infinite since interpretations are human. And thus the following conversation happens within Mr. Naman:

Mr. Naman: How do you know? You are just a character in my story?
Mr. Naman in story: How do you know that i am just a character? It is your interpretation of what you write makes you believe that i am a character. Show it to someone else and i will be as real as you could ever be.
Mr. Naman: Really? Is my writing that good that you appear to be real?
Mr. Naman in story: Do not flatter yourself. Your writing is good because i am such an interesting person. It is I that make you and not the other way around.
Mr. Naman: Wait a minute! If you as a person is so interesting and since you are a representation of me, this means that i am an interesting person.
Mr. Naman in story: You can say that. Or since you also believe that i am just a character, you can also say that i am not interesting and hence you are also not interesting.
Mr. Naman: Hang on! My writing is criticizing me. The hallmark of a great human is to laugh at himself. Analogically, the hallmark of a great writer is to criticize himself. I think thats what they mean by criticizing oneself.

Chapter 14

They say that the only thing constant in this world is change. Likewise, the only thing for which Mr. Naman is regular is being not regular in anything. What plans! What plans he makes inside his cocunut like head. His ideas are like pure coconut water - fresh, pure and sweet - but like the water they stay inside his head. And with time the water dries up in coconut. But this is where Mr. Naman differs. His is a brand of regenerative plan machine - plans are formed, kept for some time and then forgotten or replaced by another plan and the cycle continues.

Mr. Naman has been planning to write a book. A book about everyday life of people in Ugar. "I will write something everyday for my book" said Mr. Naman one fine day. The exact time at which Mr. Naman's mind produced this notion was recorded as 8:24pm on that day. It took less than one second for other parts of brain to pass this notion into law and it was put into practice effective immediately. Usually Mr. Naman's minds is quite slow and it likes to take longer intervals to come to a resolution but on matters like these, the decision is unanimous and quick.

Mr. Naman is aware of his brain's quick response to such matters and he had a good debate within himself one day. On one side was the fact that decisions made in haste are mostly wrong and sooner or later they are bound to fail. But on another end was the Malcolm Gladwell's Blink theory saying that no matter how complex the question is, the decision is always made in a blink. Mr. Naman had tried to argue from both sides. The debate is put on hold for the moment and is queued at the back of on-hold debated within Mr. Naman.

Coming back to the current Mr. Naman's resolution, the bill was passed on to the Writing minister to produce something for today. Since it was already 8:28 pm, the Writing minister complained that there is so less time left in the day today to embark the process. So an ordinance was issued that such a task will start from tomorrow. First few days went smooth, then again Mr. Naman's brain's Writing minister started to complain. One can not put a timeline on art and writing is a form of art. Since mediocrity is not acceptable by any standards and it takes time to publish quality work, putting a timeline is waste. But the Discipline minister argued that without a time check, there is no guarantee, the project can go on indefinitely. To which the Writing minister replied that i can publish a whole book within one week but will the Discipline minister be willing to read it. The Discipline minister clearly declined such an offer. So this debate was also queued up in Mr. Naman's list of on-Hold debate queue. In the mean time, the Writing minister was given a free pass (or you can also say bailout ) to write when he feels like.

There were many such other attempts by Mr. Naman to be regular. Simple ones like "I will get up early and watch sunrise everyday", "I will take bath before eating breakfast everyday" and more ambitious ones like "I will finish my newspaper article two days in advance" or like "I will learn to play Sitar basics within one year". Each one of them failed. Some disappointingly (within a week) and others very disappointingly (withing two or three days). There was also one to clear all the pending debates in On-Hold queue but this itself sparked a debate whether to pass such resolution or not and this was put on the queue owing to its larger time needs.