We take leave of the SP. ‘‘Sir, all that I can say is, may God bless you and your family.’’ He smiles and shakes my hand.

WE never thought UP would be dangerous,’’ says Manju’s father. ‘‘People in UP are simple and god-fearing, many of them are vegetarians. We never imagined any dangers here.’’ I think of mentioning to him that Hitler was a vegetarian, and a teetotaler. But I skip it. Because I agree with him that the common man of UP is simple and honest. And that’s why he’s being taken for a ride by the netas and the gun-toting criminals.

The feelings pour out in the silence of the car, driving down the bumpy highway in UP. I glance at the rows of gun shops by the side of the road. The ‘Have 20,000? Have licence. Have licence? Have gun’ types. Manju’s father continues, ‘‘We come from a very modest background. Manjunath was the first boy, not only in the family, but in the whole community, to have done engineering. And he topped it with an MBA from an IIM. All the children of our locality looked up to him. We had great dreams for him.’’

My mind drifts away. What a sacrifice! And from my own friend. My batchmate, who did a research assistantship on ‘‘values’’, counted ‘‘leadership’’ as his favourite course—and became the truest of leaders, guided by the highest of values. The one I studied with, sang with, and yes—discussed values with.

My mind goes back to the Business World case study written on Manjunath, soon after his death. There were many comments posted in response to the case. Most people debated on whether or not it was worth it. I had posted my comments too. I’d said:

... contd.