Collapsible Gates

In the end, I was probably the only journo in Delhi, Hyderabad, Bangalore and Mumbai — the four Indian cities he visited — who did not get to see Bill Gates. Not that people didn’t try. Go and see him, several colleagues urged.
After all, he’s come here for charity, and what could be a more charitable cause than you — you’re positively pathetic, they pointed out.I agreed with them. Bill mightn’t want to touch me with a bargepole. But being a true philanthropist he might well be tempted to touch me with a bankroll. Despite this, I demurred. The reason? This virtual interview, in lieu of the real one I didn’t have, might help explain why.
JS: Sir, Exalted Excellency, Envoy Extraordinaire, Plenipotentiary of Plenitude...
BG: Cut the palaver, pal. Just call me HOMES. As in Head of Microsoft Economic State. First I thought I’d call myself Head of Microsoft Organisation. But people might get the wrong idea.
JS: Er, quite. Anyway, you’ve come to India to do something about AIDS.
BG: You’re darn tootin’ right I have. You guys’ve got to clean up your act regarding public toilets.
JS: Er, I don’t know much about AIDS. But I don’t think you would get it through public toilets.
BG: You certainly wouldn’t. That’s because you don’t have public toilets. It’s just one big road show.
JS: I see what you mean. And smell it too. To coin a phrase, we’re so poor we don’t have a pot to pee in. Which is where your money comes in. They say you’re the richest man on the planet. That your wealth is more than the GNP of 85 countries. Indeed it is more than the combined GNP of 29 of the poorest countries in the world. You could wipe out India’s entire fiscal deficit and still have 64 per cent of your moolah left over as small change. If you were to give away your money at the rate of Rs one crore per day, it would take you 653 years, including leap years, to dish it all out. If you were to convert all your dosh into one rupee notes and put them end to end, they’d extend for 229,017,600 km, or 298 trips to the moon and back. Your net asset value is said to increase at the rate of Rs 2.20 crores an hour, or Rs 6,122 per second. What do you say to all that?
BG: Nothing. While you’ve been saying all that, I’ve been busy increasing my asset value by a few crores. Whatever those critters might be.
JS: Wow! Does that mean that you can never calculate just how rich you are because by the time you had calculated it you’d be even richer than when you started?
BG: You got it, bro. That’s why I let other people like you do the calculating. It’s also why I have dandruff.
JS: I thought you had dandruff because you didn’t mind being called a slob.
BG: No. You have dandruff because you don’t mind being called a slob. I have dandruff because removing each flake of it represents an opportunity cost of Rs 12,244.
JS: I can see that why you are Head & Shoulders above the rest of us. Does that also explain why you dress like a grown-up version of a Harry Potter taken by his foster parents to a jumble sale of second hand clothes, and eat junk food like popcorn and French fries in preference to haute cuisine?
BG: Harry who? Must be a franchisee for Linux. And what’s hot kwizin? Some sorta Indian curry?
JS: Only when made by Dileep Padgaonkar. But tell me. Isn’t it boring to be always only making money? Don’t you ever go to the pub? Read a book? Listen to music? Take in a movie? Pick lint from your navel?
BG: What’s a navel? I’ve never contemplated having one.
JS: What about sleeping? Surely you must sleep sometime?
BG: Sure I sleep. But instead of going zzzzzz, I go $$$$$$.
JS: And I suppose you dream of electronic sheep, like the android in that sci-fi book by Philip K. Dick.
BG: Nope. I dream of regular sheep, with fleece. Golden fleece. Shear delight, as they say.
JS: What about talking to yourself? Surely you must be talking to yourself. Everyone does.
BG: Not me. I’m too exclusive to give interviews. Even to myself.
JS: Is it true that you don’t like giving interviews because a hostile interviewer might ask you if you borrowed from Steve Jobs to create your Windows?
BG: Borrowed jobs? Bunkum! Far from borrowing jobs, from someone called Steve or anyone else, I’ve given jobs to thousands! Like I plan to do in India with my Rs 100 crore Operation Shiksha which will train 85,000 teachers who in turn will train 3.5 million students to use Microsoft gizmos. Which will include Hindutva keyboards.
JS: You mean Hindi keyboards.
BG: I mean Hindutva keyboards. They’ll come in a nice shade of saffron. With a trishul instead of a mouse. And a slogan that says: RAM naam satya naam.
JS: If you’re so exclusive and always busy making money, how come you took time off to come to India?
BG: You don’t think I’ve actually come here, do you? I’m just here on a virtual visit.
JS: That makes two of us.
And that’s how Bill Gates became the most unforgettable character I ever met, virtually. And vice versa.