From reality to fiction, a tale of two opposites

Perhaps one becomes a different person after retirement? Released from the pressures and restrictions of a professional career, you can give free rein to talents that remained dormant or even, possibly, suppressed.

This is my explanation for the metamorphosis of a former distinguished foreign secretary into a rather compelling writer of detective fiction. And if you know the author, as many will, what is equally intriguing is that the central character he's created is not a doppelganger, but the virtual opposite of himself. There's no recognisable similarity between the two.

The former foreign secretary I'm writing about is Krishnan Srinivasan. He held that distinguished office in the mid-1990s. He also served as high commissioner to Zambia, Nigeria, and Bangladesh and as ambassador to The Netherlands. We met during his time in Lagos, over 40 years ago. We've been good friends since, but, as you'll soon discover, there's a lot more to Kris than I knew or could discern.

In the last decade, Kris has written six books centred around an intriguing character he's called Michael Marco. Born in Italian Somaliland, Marco served in his country's foreign service, and later in the UN, but now finds himself unable to return home. His government has barred him. The books are about Marco's time in Kolkata as he waits to return to Somalia.

Krishnan Srinivasan’s central character is the virtual opposites of himself. PHOTO: COLLECTED

Marco is no Hercule Poirot or Sherlock Holmes. Instead, his kindliness reminds you of Jane Marple, his manner and appearance of Inspector Ghote. More than anything else, it's hard to imagine anyone more different from Kris.

Kris is often awkward. Marco is warm and welcoming. Kris doesn't suffer fools gladly. Marco finds depths that others would never have recognised. Kris used to have a head for alcohol that was impossible to challenge. The most Marco will imbibe is tomato juice fortified with tabasco. Kris used to like the attention his acerbic wit drew to him. Marco shrinks into the shadows, preferring invisibility. They are so truly different that I wonder if Kris looked deep into a mirror and decided to create the opposite of what he saw?

The second delightful discovery is Kris's evocative use of language. The former diplomat was a terse man. The author is full of haunting phrases. For instance, of the forests of Purulia at the end of the monsoon, he writes "the leaves and twigs were full of trembling drops". Of a shabby building seen from a car window, he says it "turned into dull silver by a fat January moon". Of the memory of a woman, he recalls "her dimpled smiles like fleecy clouds with the sun behind them".

Kris's descriptions of people are equally striking. A handsome college chum is "a cross between Hrithik Roshan and a walnut Brad Pitt". A character he clearly dislikes is said to look like "a church warden suffering from acute dyspepsia". A female he doesn't find attractive is called a "coltish girl-woman" who has an "oversize full-lipped mouth with just a hint of buck teeth".

The third surprising feature is the collection of pearls of pithy wisdom Kris has scattered in Marco's conversation. The diplomat I knew was clever; his critics would say too clever by half. But wise, in the worldly sense of the term, Kris was not. Marco very definitely is. "People's secrets are the most interesting things about them, but no secret remains a secret forever", Marco declares. You can be sure he will ferret out yours. But where is he most likely to start? Kris has the answer. "Whenever you are looking at any crime, you can normally start by considering sex, ambition and money as the motivations".

So, as I turned the last page of Kris's latest book, The Ambassador and the Private Eye, I felt an impish urge to ask Marco to inquire into his own origin. I wonder how our Somalian savant would explain Kris's transition from diplomat to novelist? Only he could unravel the truth. I can't see Kris telling me!

Karan Thapar is the author of Devil's Advocate: The Untold Story

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the opinions and views of The Business Standard.