The other day my cousin had a baby and I was immediately asked to suggest names. I finally came up with this one, New Delhi Metallobeta Lactamase (NDM-L). My offer was surprisingly disregarded. I just felt that we had enough of Rohits and Rohans and Karans and Aryans, floating around. NDM-L, now that’s a name that stands alone. I went on various websites and checked, no human being had embraced the name NDM-L so far.

Why this blatant lack of enthusiasm for such a novel and unique name? Well, the answer to this riddle lies in the origins of the name itself. My journey tracing the origins took me to the beautiful island of Bali in Indonesia. Indonesia is one of those countries that lies 15 minutes from India but in order to get to it you need to take two separate flights of four hours each. Basically the plane circles Indonesia until the last 15 minutes when it finally lands.
My investigations require me to go deep in the forest, right into the vortex of nature, so naturally I checked into the Grand Hyatt hotel. Now the Grand Hyatt in Bali is not exactly a hotel. It is in truth a whole separate country. A rather large republic where people wear the same clothes. It was so large that I frequently got lost everytime I stepped out of the room. In that sense, it reminded me of the country of England, except with room service. It was here in room number 3258 of the Grand Hyatt, Bali, that I started my investigation of the NDM-L.
The trail led to a man called Dr Devaaverman. He was a stocky Indonesian man, with one defect. He was incapable of smiling, although he was very popular at parties because he could carry an accordion with just his ears. I mustered up the courage and asked the good doctor about the origins. He fell on his back convulsing with laughter.
“You tourists are all the same, always on about the NDM-L.” He spoke and looked like a middle-aged woman giving birth on the floor at the same time.
“I tell all the tourists the same thing I’m going to tell you. I’ve never heard of NDM-L,” he concluded, rolled on his stomach and started swimming the freestyle stroke, without any water. As he switched to the butterfly stroke, I left him there. Perplexed and dismayed, I went to my room. Perplexed because I couldn’t find my room and dismayed as no one offered to help me find it.
Four hours later with the help of four maps, three tourist guides and a sniffer dog, I reached room number 3258. Disheartened at what I thought was a complete failure, I searched unconvincingly for the toilet. I pushed the handle and entered the safe. Inside was absolutely nothing, but a little black speck. The smallest dot ever. Next to the dot was a note. It read, “To whomsoever it may concern, the little black speck next to you is the decoded NPM-L gene, which goes by the names, Alfie, Senorita, Chairman Basu, Twinkle Toes, Nancy and Superbug. It has superpowers. It can change genetic codes of pathogens, thus leading to diseases whose source cannot be detected. At present it only attacks New Delhiites and hasn’t bothered the residents of Gurgaon or Noida, although on holidays it can be found in Jaipur. The superbug gene cannot be trifled with as it is highly intelligent. It can speak seven languages, solve the Rubik’s cube, sing all the world’s national anthems and convert solar energy into a nutritive source for its offspring, but most of all it can kill you, though of course only if you are in New Delhi”.
Without quite finishing the note, I rushed out to the Bali airport, and back to my cousin’s place in New Delhi. Out of breath, I knocked frantically on his front door. After 45 minutes, I realised it was open and I pushed past everyone straight to my cousin Aashish’s, who was holding the baby. But I was too late. Cousin Aashish words cut me to the quick, “Uncle Cyrus meet your nephew New Delhi Metallobeta Lactamase (NDM-L) or, as we like to call him in Delhi, Bunty”.