Officially, as per his one-page bio-data, prepared for a small sum by one of the roadside typists who serviced the lawyers outside Bangalore’s Mayo Hall, his name was T. R. Gavirangappa.Tharikere Ranganatha Gavirangappa. Anyone reading his name would instantly know that he hailed from the village of Tharikere, near the hills of Chikmagalur, and that he was the son of Ranganatha. His family called him Rangappa for short.But at work he was known as Raju.This nominal transformation was announced to him, quite casually, at the end of his job interview.“Your driving test was satisfactory,” his prospective employer said. “The job is yours, provided you are courteous, prompt, and steady in your habits.” And then: “Oh, and on the job, you will be called Raju.”It had not really occurred to him to protest, so everyone in the house, from the cook to his employer’s little three-year-old daughter, called him Raju. It had taken him three days to get used to it. And, after a while, he had even begun to like it.
