How Narayana Murthy waited for his turn

After the launch of Atul Gawande's Being Mortal at British Council, Bangalore, I joined a line of people with books in their hands. A pair of women in front of me took a couple of lazy steps forward. I followed them, and turned to look behind. Six more people had joined me, but I couldn't spot NR Narayana Murthy anywhere. He probably left. He was sitting in one of the last rows as the session went on, head thrust forward, listening with rapt attention, and sometimes, for instance when Atul Gawande made a point about private hospitals, nodding his head in approval. Later, soon after the session, I saw him talking to a girl about some 'fantastic work' by somebody.

The line moved a few more steps forward. I looked around. A man was already clearing the chairs. Another man was trying to take a picture of the two friends ahead of me. They didn't notice the photographer, and were busy talking. I didn't want to end up looking like Narendra Modi peering into cameras all the time, so I quickly turned my head the other side. There I saw the video camera crew folding a tripod.

A few more minutes passed. The line behind me grew longer. Some more people walked in with books fresh from a stall at the gate selling Gawande’s works - Being Mortal, his latest, in hardcover, and the others - Complications, Better and The Checklist Manifesto in paperback. Among them, was Narayana Murthy again, carrying half a dozen books in his hands.

Presently, Murthy stopped. He seemed to be surprised at the length of the queue. It must have been short or non existent when he went out. Now, he balanced his books in one hand and stretched the other to look at his watch. His face panned the line. It wasn't moving. Some people, like him, had more than one copy in their hands, and Atul Gawande was not just signing the books, he also seemed to be exchanging more than a few words with everyone.

Murthy looked at his watch again, and reluctantly turned back. Then, a man from Penguin Books rushed to him, and told him something excitedly pointing to where Atul Gawande was sitting. Murthy took a quick step back. "But, there are so many people in the line. It will be unfair to them," he said. As if to signal the end of the conversation, he turned to another man, dressed in a grey safari suit, and handed over the books to him.

I looked at my queue. Most of them had come in pairs, and seemed to be engrossed in desultory chatter. Now, Murthy turned to the Penguin official and said, "I will get it signed some other time, but I have to say goodbye to him." (Atul Gawande had mentioned Murthy in his speech). He marched forward said a brief goodbye to Gawande, and quietly left.

I wouldn't have expected anything less from Murthy, yet seeing him walk away, I felt happier standing there in the line, waiting for my turn.