Two tweets from FBI, a million–dollar ghost, and ten unexpected arrests rocking the desi diaspora and Indian Americans

A story of two tweets, a million–dollar ghost, and ten unexpected arrests. This story connects them through one sleepless weekend in Boston’s Indian diaspora and the FBI’s timelines. Source

The Million-Dollar Ghost

On a gray March morning, the news broke like a crack of thunder through immigrant WhatsApp groups in New Jersey, Texas, and Gujarat. Source

The FBI had raised the reward to up to $1,000,000 for information leading to the arrest of Ten Most Wanted fugitive Bhadreshkumar Patel, the man accused of killing his 21-year-old wife in a Maryland Dunkin’ Donuts and then vanishing into the folds of the diaspora. Source

For eleven years he had been more rumor than man: a name whispered in Patel motel lobbies, a face half-remembered at garba nights, always “someone’s cousin’s friend” who had disappeared after “a family matter” went bad. Source

Mothers used him as a cautionary tale about rage and marriage; fathers mentioned him in bitter asides about how one man’s violence could stain an entire community. Source

Now the number—1,000,000—glared from phones like a second sun. Source

Some saw justice finally gathering momentum; others saw danger, the fear that any brown man with the wrong haircut and the right accent might be stopped, questioned, or worse. Source

Boston Wakes Up

Two days later, the second tweet hit. Source

FBI Boston announced that its Violent Crimes Task Force had arrested ten Indian nationals across Massachusetts, Kentucky, Missouri, and Ohio for allegedly participating in a sprawling criminal scheme. Source

The details were still sketchy to the public—fraud and violence braided together, money moving through shell accounts, victims scattered across states—but the headline was enough: “10 Indian nationals arrested.” Source

In Indian grocery stores in Burlington and Somerville, the story ran under softer fluorescent lights, retold with long pauses and lowered voices between the coriander and the garam masala aisle. Source

In the span of forty-eight hours, two different narratives collided: one about a singular, almost mythic fugitive whose violence had started in a back room of a donut shop, the other about a network of suspects woven into quiet American towns. Source

For those who lived in between—Indian by memory, American by paperwork—the tweets felt less like separate announcements and more like coordinates on the same map. Source

Rhea’s Timeline

Rhea, a 29-year-old data engineer in Cambridge, first saw the million-dollar tweet during a late-night doomscroll between code deploys. Source

She remembered the old articles she’d read years ago: the 2015 killing, the Dunkin’ Donuts in Hanover, the young wife whose American dream ended behind a swinging stockroom door. Source

The FBI had added him to the Ten Most Wanted list in 2017, but over time he had drifted from the headlines into the uneasy folklore of the diaspora. Source

Two days later, sitting on the Red Line, she refreshed her feed and saw the Boston tweet: ten Indian nationals arrested, Violent Crimes Task Force, multi-state operation. Source

Two Threads, One Fear

At lunch, Rhea walked to an Indian café near Kendall Square, where the TV silently looped cable news while subtitles raced beneath. Source

The local anchor mentioned the arrests in a brief segment—stock footage of FBI jackets, a map with glowing dots over four states, the line “all of them Indian nationals” delivered with clinical emphasis. Source

An older man at the next table muttered, “First that Patel fellow on Most Wanted, now this. They’ll look at all of us like criminals.” Source

His friend replied, “They already do. It’s just that now they have fresh headlines.”

The Anonymous Tip

Two weeks after the reward announcement, a tip arrived through the FBI’s online portal. Source

The person didn’t give a name, only an email address that looked like any other throwaway account.

They wrote about a man who avoided cameras, who changed jobs often, who never talked about his past but always read news from home. Source

Threads Still Open

On a quiet Sunday, Rhea sat by the Charles River and opened the million-dollar tweet again, then the Boston arrests one. Source

The quotes, replies, and reposts had multiplied: some angry, some defensive, some celebrating, some grieving.

Somewhere in the Midwest, a man who might or might not be Bhadreshkumar Patel walked into a small store, careful to keep his face away from the camera above the counter. Source

Between them stretched a digital trail of posts and appeals, headlines and case files, rumors and late-night conversations in far-flung Indian kitchens. Source

The story of those two tweets wasn’t finished; it had only marked the points where the hidden work of justice briefly surfaced for everyone to see. Source

In an era of social media rants, we rarely stop to say Thanks; so, here's a "thanks TCS"!

 TCS's work culture is legendary, and WITCH veterans like me, like scores of tech professionals credit these giants - employing over a million - for their foothold in the industry. But this post is not about work at TCS’, but rather their marketing outreach.

Many of us have heard and seen clips of TCS sponsoring marathons in major global centres including the TCS New York City Marathon, London and the newly inducted TCS Sydney Marathon – all an effort by Corporate Marketing to get the brand out there. Until this year I hadn’t heard of yet another outreach in India - the TCS InQuizitive, a quiz series for highschoolers.

TCS InQuizitive, a national quiz for grades 8-12, covers current affairs, science, tech, business, arts, and culture to build critical thinking. My son and his partner reached the Bengaluru regionals in August 2025, a buzzing event at Chowdiah Memorial Hall with 546 teams from 93 schools across Bengaluru and nearby cities like Mysore and Goa.​​

Tata branding shone through SWAG: Taj Yeshwanthpur lunch vouchers, ₹25K Chroma vouchers, and Starbucks goodies - ensuring kids link these perks to the Tata Brand. The intent of the event and goodies was simple - If not anything else, the kids of his generation will remember the assorted companies under the TATA umbrella.

While I didn’t accompany him for the finals in Mumbai, I followed up online. If you think getting 12 regional finalists and their teachers from around the country to travel to Mumbai is not-trivial exercise, add the curve ball thrown over the Indigo fiasco. To their credit, TCS and their travel agents scrambled to arrange Air India bookings – another TATA brand - for affected participants. Son’s return trip that was scheduled on Indigo on 7^th Dec. One can imagine the cost of doing that alone.

The finals took place at The President IHCL SeleQtions - another Tata group gem - with the vibrant quiz host Giri and his team flown in to orchestrate the event.

From chauffeured pickup – with guys holding placard of participant’s names at the Airport – to a drop back, the kids gathered memories of a “five star” experience that is sure to last a lifetime.

Engaging youth through non-digital endeavours is commendable in today's screen-dominated world. As a parent, the well-orchestrated TCS InQuizitive series - from Bengaluru regionals to the Mumbai finale - left me deeply impressed. As a former WITCH veteran, I was captivated by TCS's savvy offline branding efforts that stand out amid the digital deluge.   

So, here's a simple Thank You TCS.

Sadabhishekam Celebration for Shree Mahālinga Ganapadigal - Sahasrachandra Darsana Shanti

My family has known Mahalinga Ganapadigal for decades, and I was delighted when Mami came by with her daughter to personally invite us to his Sadabhishekam celebration. In an era dominated by WhatsApp messages and e-invites, personally inviting guests to partake in celebrations is a rare and precious tradition. It is a beautiful throwback to a bygone era of genteel custom, reflecting both class and deep respect for age-old traditions.

Ganapadigal, a vedic scholar and priest, has been a spiritual confidant to my father for many years. He officiated the upanayanam ceremonies for my brother and me nearly three decades ago, and he did the same for my son just a year ago – a true full circle in life.

The invitation card mentioned that the event would be held at Havyaka Bhavana in Malleshwaram, a spacious and pleasant hall in the heart of the city. I anticipated a sizable crowd, but Suja, my wife, and I were truly blown away to see over a thousand people grace the occasion.

The Sahasrachandra Darsana Shanti, which signifies that Ganapadigal has witnessed 1,000 full moons, was truly a celebration of his life. The hundreds of well-wishers present were a testament to how deeply he has touched so many lives. The ceremony was deeply traditional, featuring a dozen Brahmins chanting Vedic hymns accompanied by various homas (fire rituals) such as Ayusha Homa, Mrityunjaya Homa, and Navagraha Homa, all invoking blessings for health and longevity.

Ganapadigal and Mami have been long-standing fixtures at the Shankar Mutt in Malleshwaram, officiating at functions, celebrations, and events. A stickler for punctuality, Ganapadigal expected no mistakes from his associates and was unfailingly punctual, come rain, shine, or Bangalore’s notorious traffic. With Mami by his side, he has been present for nearly all events held at the Mutt complex.

Despite the hectic schedule devoted to the Mutt and rituals, Ganapadigal and Mami still found time to build a home in Vidyaranyapura and raise six children. Their five daughters are well-educated and married into respectable families across the country, including one settled abroad with her husband. Their son is an executive at a pharmaceutical company and is settled in Bengaluru.

Ganapadigal’s energy and inner strength are most visible during the monthly rituals on Ammavasya, Ekadashi, and Pradosham, when dozens of Brahmins join the ceremonies. And did I mention the annual thread-changing ceremony, Yajurveda Upakarma? He hosts 6-8 batches of ceremonies for hundreds of Brahmins, starting at 5:30 in the morning and continuing through the "Homam batch" at noon.

Not surprisingly, hundreds turned up to partake in the celebration of his life. The ceremony and havans were followed by the ritual of the invitees queuing up to offer a small token and seek blessings from the couple.

Book Review - Review and reflections on “When Breath Becomes Air”

 There’s an old adage that goes: the only certainties in life are death and taxes. And while death is inevitable for all of us, the how, why, and when remain the great unknowns — mysteries that both unsettle and sustain us. What would you do if you knew you had only six months to a year to live? Perhaps try to leave behind a legacy while your body slowly succumbs to the inevitable.

For Paul Kalanithi, an Indian-American neurosurgeon and writer, this wasn’t a philosophical exercise — it was his reality. In the final year of his neurosurgery residency at Stanford, Paul was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer. Despite the best that modern medicine had to offer, the disease metastasized and spread rapidly. He was told he had less than a year to live.

The diagnosis arrived at the cusp of what should have been the most rewarding phase of his life — a promising career as a neurosurgeon and academic researcher. Paul and his physician wife, Lucy, were left reeling. But instead of retreating into despair, they chose to face the future with clarity and courage. This is not a book about “fighting cancer” or “winning battles.” It is, instead, a reflective and beautifully written chronicle of a life lived deeply — even as it draws to a close.

An English literature major, Paul brings lyrical sensitivity and philosophical inquiry to his writing. He retraces his journey from the son of Indian immigrants — in a family where a career in medicine was more or less a given — to a passionate lover of literature, and then back again to medicine, where he found a calling in neurosurgery.

Death, though inevitable, is something we rarely confront until it’s at our doorstep. Even for those of us who have experienced loss, the finality of our own end often feels too abstract to contemplate — a vague event lurking somewhere in the distant future. And perhaps that’s for the best. Until, of course, fate flips the hourglass and you can see the sand slipping away.

In the second half of When Breath Becomes Air, Paul offers an unflinching account of what it means to live with — and die from — cancer. His initial diagnosis brought cautious optimism, with an experimental drug offering temporary reprieve. But when the tumor returned, larger and more aggressive, Paul and Lucy could no longer pretend to fight it. They weren’t battling cancer; they were learning to live with its timeline. The book doesn’t peddle false hope. It’s not about defiance. It’s about acceptance.

As his condition worsens, Paul begins to write. With insight born of both medical training and lived experience, he documents his transition from doctor to patient. One of the most poignant moments in the book is when Paul removes his surgical coat for the last time — fully aware he will never again step into an operating room. Even more heartbreaking is his account of holding his newborn daughter, his body frail and trembling from chemotherapy.

I have reached an age where I’ve witnessed death — some timely, others tragically premature. And yet, I find myself still unable to fully grasp the inevitable arc of my own life. So I will file away Paul’s tender, searing prose for the time when I, too, must meet Death — and perhaps seek some solace in his words.

Footnote: A brief YT clip with reflections

Spellbound in Indiranagar: Rediscovering the Joy of Live Music

In this era of social media, where our attention spans are consumed by bite-sized shorts, clips, and snippets, sitting through a 2–3 hour classical music recital feels like a dying pastime—much to my dismay. Aside from the occasional Coldplay concert that fills stadiums with selfie-snapping spectators, the art of attending live performances seems to be fading fast.

This weekend, Suja and I decided to break our usual routine and drove across town to attend a recital by Vidushi Preeti Sethuraman, a promising young vocalist performing in the Bangalore suburb of Indiranagar. We had budgeted about an hour for the commute, so I wasn’t too surprised when our Ola took a detour-laden 90 minutes through the thick of metropolitan traffic. Thankfully, we arrived just in time for the introductions—and I was captivated from the very first note she rendered.

The beautiful rendition of Jagadananda Karaka had the audience spellbound, with many humming along to Thyagaraja’s Sanskrit kriti. At the end of the piece, Preeti explained how the composer had woven three primary meanings of “Sri” (श्री) into the composition. The singer’s energy was infectious—she engaged the audience with a warm smile, nodded in rhythm to encourage her accompanying artists, and infused every rendition with captivating presence.

Although Suja and I had planned to spend just an hour at the concert before heading to another appointment, the recital drew us in completely. We ended up staying for almost three hours, fully immersed in the experience.

On the way back, Suja reminisced about seeing Preeti—and her sister Aarti, both distant relatives—as little tots. She was fascinated by how “that little one” had blossomed into such an accomplished artist, carrying a mantle passed down through generations of “vidvans”. Suja couldn’t help but feel proud for Preeti’s parents, who had poured their time and energy into nurturing the talent now so visibly in bloom.

While technology and live streaming have made it convenient for us to work from home and pull entertainment into our living rooms, there’s something irreplaceable about dressing up and showing up. Sitting in the audience, making eye contact, and encouraging artists in the moment—this is an experience that no AI, Metaverse avatar, or livestream can replicate. In that sense, the techie in me hopes we remain gloriously art-loving Luddites.

A review of John Grisham's classic - The Summons

I have been a fan of John Grisham’s legal thrillers for as long as I can remember. A former lawyer who decided to pursue his passion for storytelling, Grisham writes what he knows - about law, and more interestingly how law impacts the lives of people.

Most of Grisham’s stories are set in Clanton and the Parrish nearby in Mississippi and he has been cranking out a novel a year for the past couple of decades. Each of his stories has ended up on best-seller lists selling millions of copies. 

His cult-like following was evident during a book signing I attended in Winston Salem, NC about 5-6 years ago. In this era of social media, it was interesting to see a hall packed with people who paid $25-$50  to meet their favorite author. Personal selfies with the man were extra. 

The Summons begins with the protagonist, Ray Atlee, a Law professor at the University of Virginia getting a letter from his dad summoning him back to Clanton Mississippi. Ray’s father, “judge” Atlee has been a beloved figure in the town of Clanton for decades and had a falling out with Ray and his brother Forrest. Judge Atlee was dying from cancer, which his estranged sons are acutely aware of. 

Ray calls up Forrest to ask if he’d gotten a similar summons from the Judge and Forrest says nonchalantly that he would try to be there. Ray drives 15 hours to Clanton, arriving an hour before the appointed 5 PM appointment.

He knocks on the door of their old family mansion with trepidation, and when he doesn't get a response, enters the house and walks up to the Judge’s study where the old man is sleeping - or so Ray thinks. He gets a diet soda from the fridge waiting for his old man to wake up. When he realizes that the Judge hasn’t moved even after the clock struck five, Ray suspects something is wrong. He makes small sounds to wake up his father and finally feels his pulse to find the Judge is indeed dead. 

Although the moment was long in coming, Ray is overwhelmed nevertheless. He is not sure what he must do but decides to walk around the house before calling the coroner and Harry Rex, their family friend.

While rummaging through the Judge’s study, Ray comes across a few filing boxes and on opening one is shocked to find stacks and stacks of 100 dollar bills bundled neatly. Ray’s mind begins to whirl and this discovery accentuates the shock of finding his father dead.

That his rather meticulous, honest, and well-known Judge in Clanton had stacks of three million dollars lying around is enough to raise all kinds of questions in Ray’s mind. But before he can begin to investigate, his immediate impulse is to hide the money before the coroner, police and hordes of visitors begin thronging in. Most importantly, Ray must hide the money from his brother who has been an addict for most of his adult life.

Ray’s search for the truth about the source of this amount and how it came into the Judge’s possession is filled with intrigue in Grisham’s classic narrative. 

Spoiler alert: After cheering Ray along on his admirable quest, we the readers are left wondering about the anti-climax.  

A novel like this made me reflect on the art and craft of storytelling along with the art of bringing to life the characters that Grisham has mastered. He does all this while taking the readers through the human side of law and lawyers. 

John Grisham's Camino Ghosts- another Grisham classic read by Whoopi Goldberg #booktube

 I’ve been enjoying audiobooks for over a decade and was thrilled when John Grisham's latest legal thriller, Camino Ghosts, became available in my library. As a longtime Grisham fan who has read most of his thrillers, listening to Whoopi Goldberg’s narration was the icing on the cake.

The story weaves a thread between the past—the saga of a slave ship that brought Nala and crashed off the coast of Florida—and the present-day life of Lovely Jackson, a descendant of those enslaved.

Set on Camino Island, the popular bookseller Bruce Cable shares with local author Mercer Mann the story of Jackson and how a resort developer is scheming to claim ownership of a deserted island. What the developer doesn’t know is that the island holds a remarkable history, and locals believe it is cursed.

Goldberg brings Grisham’s fast-paced narrative to life, making for a mesmerizing audiobook. Another five stars to John Grisham for this legal thriller!