Everyone (well every guy I know) seems to be talking about the Walden-esque profile of former TARP Czar Neel Kashkari in Sunday’s Washington Post. The article/profile is a thing to behold. More a short story than article really. It is difficult to ascertain whether the author is satirizing an Icarus-like fall from grace with her ridiculously over-the-top description of Kashkari’s self-exile into the woods, or whether she is being earnest. If the former, “bravo” I say. You have brilliantly portrayed our South Asian male, 30s-mid-life-crisis angst. If the latter, then…well, where to begin? The stubble would be a good place. A man’s stubble, more often than not, has a good story behind it:

He wears no coat though it’s freezing, shines no light though it’s near midnight, carries no shotgun though he’s tramping on the pine-needled tracks of black bears….

The moon hits his stubble, which is six days old. And the sweater he hasn’t changed in three or four days. His BlackBerry — he can’t kick it — rang once today. A year ago in D.C., it buzzed every few seconds. All night, he’d roll over to its bluish glow. His Treasury Department assistant slept with hers, powered up, on her pillow. [Link]

The article goes on to describe a young and gung-ho aerospace enginerd, who first goes into the heart of Wall Street, and then on to Oz (a.k.a. Washington D.C.) with his powerful mentor. They had me hooked at the aerospace enginerd part. Kashkari is a man we can all get behind. He is the everyman in a $700 billion story. But our hero begins to learn that Oz is nothing but a shimmering illusion and all the knives are soon drawn upon him:

Congress savaged him. Wall Street Journal editorials doubted him. His home-town buddies urged him to use the money to buy the Cleveland Browns and fire the coaches. His wife spoke to him so rarely, she described them as “dead to each other.” He lost sleep, gained weight and saw a close adviser, Don Hammond, suffer a heart attack at his Treasury desk. On May 1, after serving seven months under Presidents Bush and Obama, he resigned. [Link]

He resigned. And that is where our real story begins. Neel decides to write down four “non-amorphous” tasks that he can accomplish while cloistered away in the California woods with his loving wife and some bears (according to circumstantial evidence the journalist points to). As you will see, these tasks are heavy on the Hercules and easy on the Sisyphus (for a change of pace).

1. Build shed

2. chop wood

3. lose 20 pounds

4. help with Hank’s [Paulson] book

[No joke: inspired by Neel I started a similar list this morning. It is very personal so I don’t plan on sharing it except that one of the items had to do with winning my fantasy football league championship].

Neel, if you are reading this, instead of helping with Hank’s book I strongly urge you to write your own. The new classic of our time: “Zen and the Art of Shed Building.” I would buy it.

Please don’t misunderstand. I really do feel for Neel and am on his side here. I am sure many of us can relate to him: overachieving South Asian “gunners” who want a taste of power, but not at any cost. The Man takes advantage of us and then attacks us when he has sucked us dry. All too familiar. More than the article, it is the haunting photos accompanying the article that are the real treat. In fact, I would just put the article on mute and view the photos in silence, perhaps with your honey on the couch next to you. Make up your own story that goes with the pictures, explaining why this young brown couple is living in the woods, looking so serious. It would be great practice for you creative writers out there. I confess that I tried this little writing exercise…but it turned kind of dark. I imagined Neel and Minal were in the novel The Road by Cormac McCarthy. With only their two big dogs to protect them.

And speaking of Minal, co-blogger Phillygrrl said to me:

“Holy crap, he sure pulled a Thoreau. Lucky for him his wife is so supportive.”

And my good buddy added:

He did find an indian chick cool enough to live in the woods with him and build a shed. can you all imagine being like- “yeah- if you don’t mind, we’re gonna go live in the woods for 6 months and chop wood. you might get eaten by a bear, but otherwise, should be cool. love you!”

It sounds strange, but that is almost verbatim how my brother convinced his (now) wife to marry him.