Moth Smoke

4 opening the purple box: an interview with professor julius superb

ZULFIKAR MANTO: Good to meet you, Professor. I’ve read some of your work. None of the academic materials, I’m afraid. Econometrics scares the hell out of me and I can hardly even pronounce heteroscedasticity. But I enjoyed that piece you wrote a few months ago about the phoenix myth. Very witty.

JULIUS SUPERB: Yes, ah, likewise.

ZM: Your students speak highly of you. They say you’re a brave man.

JS: They say I’m, ah, a man. A brave man. Do they?

ZM: Is something wrong?

JS: Wrong? No, no, of course not. Please excuse me. Never having met, you see. I was somewhat unprepared. But that’s your business. I don’t mean to presume. I’ve read all your articles. That is to say, all that I’ve come across. And they are top-notch. Really first-class journalism. Commendable. Ah, I’ve lost my train of thought. What was the question?

ZM: Actually, I asked if something was wrong. But let’s begin at the beginning. How did you first meet Darashikoh Shezad?

JS: He was a student of mine. He distinguished himself by attending my lectures and taking notes. It was this second characteristic, note-taking, that really caught my eye. So one day I said, ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ To which he replied, ‘I’m sorry, Professor?’ And I responded, ‘No, you’re not. You’ve been doing it for weeks. You’re taking notes.’

ZM: Is that really so unusual?

JS: Not really. But I confront each and every one of them. No one takes notes in my class without explaining themselves to me personally. I hit them with an impromptu quiz, right there, one on one. And if they do well enough, I ask them to come to my discussion group. Most refuse. Daru didn’t.

ZM: Discussion group?

JS: Yes. On alternate Tuesdays. From noon until two. Lunch included.

ZM: What do you discuss?

JS: Anything. Economics, development, politics, literature. Someone presents a paper and the rest of us tear it apart.

ZM: Sounds fun.

JS: It is. I soon realized Daru had potential, so I encouraged him to pursue a Ph.D. Which he did, for a while.

ZM: How long?

JS: I met him when he began his master’s. So that would have been another … two years. Two years of dissertation work.

ZM: And what was the subject of his dissertation?

JS: Development. Microcredit, specifically. Small loans to low-income groups, guaranteed by the community. The Grameen Bank model and variations. Explaining low default rates, analyzing claims of paternalism, social critiques, that sort of thing.

ZM: What did you think?

JS: Daru? Brilliant. Though a bit of a seat-of-the-pants economist. Could have used more quant training. Liked to assert rather than prove. And not the best at handling criticism. Took methodological challenges very personally. But talented, definitely.

ZM: And his dissertation?

JS: Needed focus. But, to be fair, he was more into implementation than theory. Could have done some good work.

ZM: Why did he stop?

JS: Money, I think. His girlfriend had just left him for a textile baron’s son. He got a job offer from a bank, and he couldn’t resist. He told me it was impossible to make a living in academia or development. I told him he was wrong: students will pay good cash for exam questions, and multi-laterals certainly make some poor people (their employees) well off. He didn’t appreciate the humor. So I said he was too bright to work for a bank, which was true. And I asked him about his commitment to being someone who acts rather than complains. He said he was acting for himself so he could stop complaining. And he left.

ZM: How did you feel?

JS: I was disappointed, naturally. But more, I was worried for him. I didn’t think he was choosing a path that would make him happy. It’s hard to stop thinking once you’ve started.

ZM: Did you remain in touch afterwards?

JS: No, unfortunately. Which is another bad sign. Most of the students I bring into my discussion group don’t just disappear. I suspect Daru was too dissatisfied with what he was doing to let himself look back. Actually, don’t quote me on that. How would I know? As a professor I have a tendency to slip into omniscient narrative.

ZM: How did you hear he had been arrested?

JS: The same way the rest of the city did, I suppose: everyone is talking about this case.

ZM: Why do you think that is? Why has it received so much attention?

JS: I’ve given quite a bit of thought to that question. It can be analyzed using a three-dimensional matrix. On the X axis, that is, the horizontal axis, is the accused. On the vertical axis, Y, is the crime. And on the Z axis, rising up off the page, is the defense. And this situation is clearly in the … I can see I’m losing you.

ZM: I’m afraid so.

JS: Well … let’s use a box instead of a matrix. The case is a box. In this situation, the accused is bright, well educated, and charismatic. An orphan. Extremely sympathetic. So the box is wide. The crime is violent and despicable: the needless killing of a boy. So the box is long. And the defense invokes a grand conspiracy, corruption, which is particularly resonant these days. So the box is tall.

ZM: Criminal, crime, and conspiracy. That’s why everyone is talking about it?

JS: One more thing: sex, which is purple. This box is covered with it. Painted. Smeared. Naturally, if there is a big purple box lying around, people will stare. That’s why everyone is talking about it.

ZM: And do you think he’s guilty?

JS: That, my dear, ah, Mr Manto, I just don’t know. From my experience, Daru is completely crazy. Quick-tempered, oversensitive, inconsistent. But so am I, and I haven’t killed anyone, yet.

ZM: Thank you.

JS: It has been my good fortune, I assure you.