‘I am happy that we were the first to publish the report. The murders are hot now. Nice work Lavie. Such news articles give credence to our newspaper,’ said the editor sitting in his office on a big orange coloured office chair.

‘Thank you sir,’ replied Lavie. She was wearing blue jeans and a black top. She had a necklace of pearls tied around her neck shining radiantly in the sunlight coming from the office window. Outside the window there was the Arabian sea. The office was located at Express towers in the Marine Drive area of Bombay.

‘Did you get any other clue or hints about the murder while you were there?’

‘No. The policemen were rude to us and the people. They would not allow anyone to speak. We could not take any interviews even though the locals were alleging that the death was a murder,’ she said with one of her hands inside the blue jeans pocket.

‘Interesting. We will get in touch with Bansi to check for further stories. He is doing some good work there, I hear.’ The editor put his pen cap in his mouth.

‘Yes, he is good. We could get something from this.’

‘I will put you on some other story tomorrow. Now you can take your leave.’

She rose up to leave. While she was closing the door, she met Ruksana who held her hand and led her to the office corner.

‘Did you hear the newest gossip?’ she chuckled.

‘No. I was with the editor.’

‘Parveen is getting a divorce. He has an affair with that editor of the Hindustan Times. He may leave us after getting remarried.’

‘What!’ Lavie exclaimed. ‘His wife was so good.’

‘Who cares,’ she was about to speak the next words when the office peon arrived.

‘Lavie madam. There is a phone call for you.’

*

The diary was still kept in Rohan’s drawer. He hadn’t got the time or the heart to take it out and read it. The print, TV and digital media had been discussing the issue. He was fully aware of their discussion. Rohan was an ardent user of twitter. He tweeted at Rohan_economist handle. Many people had been following the news of the murders. Among twitterati, it was mentioned as #twinmurders. There were news reports trying to link the two murders. Some wrote that the two professors were childhood friends separated by the same lover, others wrote that the two academicians had died due to a common rivalry. One of them went as far ahead as saying that the suicides were due to depression which both the academicians were suffering as their services had not been recognized by the Government of India. Rohan did not believe any of these wide allegations. He knew Prof. Dinanath well.

He too was grappling by the nature of the deaths and a possible link between them. One of the deaths had taken place in Mumbai in the west of India while the other in Jharkhand in the east. The two academicians did not work on the same subject. They did not seem to be related in any way. Perhaps it was a coincidence and nothing more.

In the afternoon, while he was sitting in office after taking the game theory class, two MBA students knocked on the door. They had a doubt in one of the topics: a Prisoner’s dilemma game. He had taught the game in the introductory classes. They were unable to truly appreciate the equilibrium of the game and wanted to discuss if the game will have a different equilibrium solution if played repeatedly. He cleared their doubts. It took him around twenty minutes. In the evening, his doctoral student Tapan arrived for a discussion. Tapan was a dark skinned, bespectacled man who was in his third year at the Institute. He was quite motivated to do a PhD in game theory. He had recently completed his course work and was at the early stages of his research. His topic of PhD thesis was yet to be decided, and a regular weekly session with his guide took place to decide the topic. Today he had come with an idea of mechanism design, a branch of game theory where games can be engineered to produce certain favourable outcomes.

‘I have an engineering backgound,’ he said. ’I think I like the idea of engineering games.’

‘This is a great idea. But are you familiar with the literature of mechanism design?’

‘Not much, except what was taught in the game theory course.’

‘Then you must look into the literature to find a research problem. Moreover you don’t want to take something up where you don’t have a theoretical background. You might find difficulty in solving the problem.’

‘Yes you are right. I need to think over the problem and read more.’

Rohan smiled. Tapan said thank you and made an exit.

As he left, Rohan started making arrangements to go back home. He switched off his laptop and put it in his bag. He put the files in order on his desk. He picked up his keys and as was ready to leave, his landline phone rang up.

*

Rohan is staring at the screen. The hero of the movie is fighting with five goons at once. The goons are no match for his karate skills. The movie theatre is packed with occasional whistling from the fans of the hero in the crowd.

Someone pats Rohan on the back. It’s a man sitting on the seat behind him. He gives him a piece of paper. He does the same thing with the lady beside him. Rohan is not able to read in the dark so he waits till the interval. When the lights come out, he opens the sheet of paper.

‘You did the wrong thing. You will not be spared,’ reads the paper. He looks for the man behind him. The seat is now empty. He looks to the woman on his side. She looks back at him.

‘What’s written on your sheet?’ she asks.

‘It’s a threat. What’s in yours?’

‘A threat.’

‘Is this some kind of a joke?’

‘Can’t say. By the way Lavie here.’

‘Rohan.’

‘Do you want popcorn?’

‘Wouldn’t mind.’

They got out of the hall and bought popcorn and cold drinks. As they got back to the seat, it struck Rohan.

‘Aren’t you the journalist who broke the news of Prof. Rameshwar?’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘And I worked with Prof. Dinanath at Mumbai Management Institute.’

‘Is this threat connected to the twin murders?’

‘That seems to be the only plausible explanation.’

‘But they called it suicides.’

‘Yes, I know. Then why this threat?’

‘No idea. What do you teach?’

‘Economics.’

‘Same as Prof. Dinanath. Would you spare some time to talk about this?’

‘Sure, I will. When do you want to meet?’

‘Next Saturday. I will come to your office.’

‘Done.’

The whole week Rohan had the meeting at the back of his mind. It was paradoxical, he thought. He should have been the one wanting to meet her. The murder of Prof. Dinanath had stirred him up. He had been an inspiration for Rohan. Since his times of PhD, he had read the books and research papers on game theory authored by the professor. His sole reason to apply for a faculty job at the management institute was to be able to work with him. He vividly remembered every conversation he had with him and never missed a chance to meet the old man who walked the corridors of the institute as if it was Shiva taking his marriage procession out to marry Parvati with the bare red brick walls dancing and cheering him on. And whenever he had a chance to talk to the Shiva worshipper, he would come back not only with a better understanding of the topic of discussion, but with few jewels of his philosophical discourse. The death had made him feel a loss, and when he looked at those walls, they looked as silent as statues. On Saturday morning, as no classes or seminars had been scheduled, he reopened the diary which he had so carefully picked up from Professor’s room.

Date: 10 June, 2013

Place: Mumbai

Bholenath and Game theory

Bholenath is the greatest game theorist. He looks at every interconnection present in this world. We can never fully understand these interconnections. We are endogenous to it. Any idea we throw in will in effect change us. The concept of endogeneity thwarts any human mind to generalize a concept or a theorem without assumptions. That is why I never disbelieved in Bholenath. There has to be an exogenous observer who sees things but does not change. It remains in question how much he can influence what’s going around. It would be great writing a research paper with him.

He not only observes but maintains the equilibrium present on earth. There are innumerable interactions among humans present at any given time. There are so many games at play at once. The boundary for each game may be limited, but their subtle interactions cannot be ignored.

Sometimes solutions don’t seem plausible. We can never find equilibrium to a given set up. But it is important to look at the boundaries and not assume that there is no solution. Maybe we have not taken that crucial element into consideration, maybe we have left it out, even though one must admit that extending the boundaries not only brings in new perspective, but also more questions. That is where the art of a modeller lies. He should know what to bring in and what to leave out of the boundary. He should be ready to question the certain and believe in the improbable. It looks as if I have to do the best modelling of my life to find a solution to this problem I have been facing for so many days now. The boundaries are hazy and nothing is clear. Parameters keep changing regularly. Someone is inside my head and I know for sure it is not me.

Solving for equilibrium looks so simple once you get to a solution. A reader can read two-three pages and understand it. It is getting to the solution which is painful. At times when nothing makes sense, a trick of the trade move or discovery of the fallacy in the current approach can bring in a ray of hope to the problem solver. What it simply means is that every problem is solvable, anybody with enough patience can solve a problem, and that no problem should be left unsolved. We must reach a solution by working to create the little pinhole in the dark room through which the ray of light can enter. In a separate problem sent to me by my good friend from Cornell, who won the Nobel Prize two years back, a small fallacy had created the issue. Once you clarify it, the path to the solution was as smooth as butter. While these kinds of problems can be solved by simplifying the assumptions and then working towards the solution, my real life problems do not seem to simplify at all. It seems I have laughed after so many days today. How do I suddenly end up hearing sounds after reaching the age of 60? Nobody seems to have an answer, not even game theory.

End

There was a knock on the door.

‘Good morning Rohan.’

‘Good morning. Have a seat.’ He put his diary on the table.

‘Thanks,’ she took out the sheet of paper from the cinema hall. Rohan took out his sheet as well. The sheets were not ordinary paper. It was something neither of them had seen before. It was square shaped and thick at the edges. It was smaller than A4 sized paper and shone like an Aluminum foil. There was a chip at the right top corner, same colour as the paper. A bright green light emanated from the letters. The letters were written in green ink, alphabets having been punched in. Touching the letters was like touching a small stapler pin. They looked to be made of a silicon compound. On touching the alphabets, the chip glowed red. Both of them had identical sheets.

‘Somebody wanted us to meet,’ said Lavie.

‘Yes, but why?’

‘Maybe they think we know something about the murders.’

‘Are you investigating Prof. Rameshwar’s murder?’

‘No, I am not. Are you doing it for Prof. Dinanath?’

‘No. But I do have his personal diary, something I picked up from the murder scene.’

‘Oh I see. Does it have any clues?’

‘Not that I could see any.’

‘It seems strange. There does not seem to be any connection between the murders except that funny number 2319, which nobody has a clue about.’

‘Yes, true. And what kind of a threat is this! No names, no address, nothing.’

‘Somebody is playing games. We need to go deeper into this.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, only if we had any clues!’ she bit her lips.

‘Could you go deeper into the work of Prof. Rameshwar? Maybe there are clues there.’

‘I have no experience in his field. However I would see if I can get someone to help me.’

‘Good. But lets keep this threat a secret.’

‘Why? Shouldn’t we go to the police?’

‘The police won’t believe us. It’s just a sheet of paper.’

‘Right. We need to see what happens next. I am not getting a good feeling.’

‘I am getting a feeling we are on to something.’

‘Whatever. I need to leave now. I have to catch the train to Andheri.’

Both of them rose. He accompanied her to the Institute gate where she took an auto rickshaw to the Vikroli railway station.