Given the sadly limited time I have for reading, I seldom, if ever, pick something up without prior intent—usually motivated by referrals or my own favorite author lists. Yet, I inexplicably picked up this book prominently displayed in the ‘New Arrivals’ section of my local library: not having heard of the title or author before. Perhaps it was the Bliss in the title (who doesn’t want it?); or maybe it was my predilection for erudite characters which the Professor in the title promised; or was it the author’s last name which I have used as my own middle name in the past? Most likely a combination of all three.

I began to wonder if I had not been imprudent when in the very first chapter I encountered what was an obvious error where Mr. Balasubramanyam writes: 

For years economists had wantonly obscured their profession, rendering everything absurdly technical with incomprehensible logarithms such that they were treated more like mystic seers than social scientists. 

Surely no qualified writer would confuse logarithms with algorithms! That faux pas notwithstanding, I decided to stick with the book, and my adventurousness was rewarded with a likable read.

As an educated and wealthy Cambridge University professor, on the verge of winning the Nobel prize in Economics, Professor P. R. Chandrashekhar, or Chandra as he is better known, seemingly has much to be pleased about with his life.

“…he could phone any finance minister in any country at any time and have them take his call.”

Yet, the man is troubled—hounded by a feeling that he has not made much of his life, of having misspent his time more obsessed with work than family. His home is broken—his wife having left him several years earlier for another man (an American hippy!), and his relationships with his three children varying from complete estrangement at worst to infrequent contact at best. His dissatisfaction crystallizes acutely after being passed on for the Nobel (yet again!) and suffering a setback to his health after a minor accident. He is forced to take stock of his life when his doctor urges him to scale back heavily on work and drink and instead follow his bliss.

The book then is the story of Prof. Chandra’s journey of self discovery and awareness—a journey both physical, as he travels away from home to planned and unplanned destinations, and mental, in his spiritual pursuit.

The book is clever in its storytelling and crisp dialogue between its varied cast, with a commendable portrayal of family relationships and dynamics—especially the role of the brilliant and distinguished but overbearing and arrogant father in the life choices and outcomes of his three offspring.

One of Chandra’s more enjoyable rants as he contemplates the types of people his MBA son associates with:

…typical of MBA students: They were fond of questions like “Can this be summarized in a single sentence?” or “on what page of the handout is this?”. Any sign of rigor had them running to their parents who’d write letters complaining the course was “not hands on enough”, meaning their children were too stupid to understand. Economists younger than Chandra had discarded years of training so these Mediocre But Arrogant rich kids could return to their management consultancies with pieces of paper confirming they’d spent a year as a foot soldier in the war against intelligence.

Based on his bio and the acknowledgments in the book, Mr. Balasubramanyam draws from a wealth of personal experience in describing the retreats that Prof. Chandra finds himself in. I take it that the depiction of Esalen workshops are near true descriptions of what goes on there.

Overall, a comforting read, funny in many parts and thought provoking with a heartwarming conclusion of Prof. Chandra’s quest.