1.3 The Bengaluru Wish!

The Trauma

It was around 9 AM, someday in 1968. I was 22, walking down a lane beside the Ram Mandir Auditorium in NR Colony, South Bengaluru. I was still recovering from a brutal common cold attack. The thin mucus phase had subsided, but the thick mucus phase still haunted—like evil spirits on a horror movie refusing to go away.

Suddenly, an autorickshaw zoomed past me, kicking up clouds of dust and belching black smoke. My nose reacted instantly. Sticky mucus clogged my nasal passages. Secretions dripped into my throat, triggering wild, uncontrollable coughing. I staggered to the roadside drainage, blowing my nose hard, spitting out mucus—only to be ambushed again by fresh lumps choking my throat. I spat again. And again. And again.....

The vicious cycle lasted nearly 45 minutes. I stood there dazed, defeated, devastated, and demoralized. In that moment of utter helplessness, I made a wish: “Let someone win a Nobel Prize for solving this thick mucus trauma.”  Yet deep inside me, a spark was lit. What if I found the solution myself?