Tuesday, March 24, 2026

The Day My Money Returned But Time Didn’t.

After 10 years, ₹43 lakhs finally came back to my account. What didn’t come back was time.

Not a bonus. Not an investment return. Just my own money finding its way back home after 10 years and 3 months.

Somewhere along the way, I aged. The system took its time.


I still remember Jan 18, 2016.

It was supposed to be a routine login into my ICICI Bank account. The kind you do absent-mindedly, maybe between two meetings.

Instead of seeing about ₹43 lakhs sitting across fixed deposits, I saw a number that looked like a rounding error. A couple of thousand rupees.

For a few seconds, I assumed I had logged into the wrong account.

Then reality logged into me.


The money was gone. Not misplaced. Not locked. Gone.

What followed was not a cyber investigation thriller. It was something far more educational.

I wrote to the bank. Escalated. Even reached out to the CEO’s office.

The response was elegant in its simplicity.

It must be your fault.

There is something almost comforting about how quickly complex system failures can be reduced to user error.


The next question was simple. What do you do sitting 8000 miles away in the US when your bank account in India has been emptied?

Answer. You start making calls that feel slightly absurd.

With help from Sindri friends, and one friend from my SAIL days who stayed ice cold on the surface but completely invested underneath, I managed to get an FIR filed in Hyderabad without physically being there.

That, in itself, felt like a small victory.

The investigation is still ongoing. Ten years later.

At some point, I realized if I waited for closure from that route, my children might inherit the case file along with family photos.


So I made what, in hindsight, was the most important decision.

I approached the adjudicating authority under the IT Act in Telangana.

What followed restored some faith.

The court looked at the facts. Not assumptions.

The bank’s position was clear. Phishing. Password compromise. Customer responsibility.

The court’s response was refreshingly grounded.

There was no evidence of phishing. The pattern of transactions did not resemble typical phishing fraud. Multiple fixed deposits were prematurely closed over days without adequate safeguards. OTP systems and authentication controls were not robust.

In simple terms, the system had holes. And those holes were not mine.

The judgment held the bank responsible.










₹43,07,525 to be paid back. 
Interest at 9 percent. 
Compensation for mental agony and costs. 

For the first time in years, the numbers started making sense again.

The bank then did what large institutions are expected to do.

They appealed.

And that is when I was introduced to the most consistent feature of the Indian judicial system.

        Time!!!

Dates were given with remarkable generosity. Every few months, like a subscription service I had not signed up for.

तारीख पर तारीख sounds dramatic in movies. In real life, it is just a calendar quietly filling up.

Time is not a side effect of the system. It is the system.

This phase lasted about four years.

At no point did I feel I would lose the case. But I did start wondering how long winning was supposed to take.


Eventually, the bank approached for a settlement.

By then, both sides had spent enough time, money, and energy to understand that closure has value.

The opening offer from the bank was educational. Let us just say it had only one digit.

We eventually settled at ₹80 lakhs in December 2025. 

Somewhere between 2016 and 2025, inflation, exchange rates, and life had all moved on.

Time does not just delay justice. It quietly changes its value.


The Telecom Disputes Settlement and Appellate Tribunal formally disposed of the matter on Jan 20, 2026, recording the settlement between both parties. 

And today, a couple of months later, the money finally showed up.

No ceremony. No closure email. Just a credit entry.


So what did I learn from this 10 year experiment?

One, systems fail. That is not surprising.

Two, institutions defend themselves. That is expected.

Three, persistence matters more than outrage.

And four, the Indian judicial system does work. But it runs on a different clock.

If you have the patience, the resources, and a slightly stubborn belief that you should not pay for someone else’s mistake, you will get there.

        Eventually!!!


If I had to summarize the experience as an engineer, I would not even take full credit.

This was a distributed system.

Friends who showed up quietly.
Friends who guided without noise.
Friends who stayed when the system kept delaying.

To a few friends who know exactly who they are, this outcome has your fingerprints all over it.

The bug was real.
The fix was correct.
The support system was exceptional.
The execution time was unbounded.


Money came back.

Time did not.

And that, perhaps, is the only line item no court can compensate.


Documents (For those who like going deeper)

  • Lower Court Judgment
  • Settlement Agreement
  • Final Disposal Order

Available on request


 

Sunday, March 1, 2026

Episode 5 – The Decision: When a CAC Score of 18 Stopped Being Just a Number

CAC Image
Coronary CT scan showing mild calcified plaque in the LAD (CAC score: 18)


For the full arc of this experiment, I recommend reading the series sequentially from Episode1 through Episode 5. The story unfolds cumulatively — much like biology itself.

By now, the numbers are no longer abstract. They have names, units, and an unsettling tendency to show up in places I’d rather not look.

      ApoB: 124 mg/dL
      CAC score: 18

Not catastrophic. Not zero.

Just enough to end denial. Not enough to qualify for a dramatic hospital montage — but sufficient to make arrogance feel slightly irresponsible.


The Real Question

My metabolism is good. Triglycerides low. Insulin sensitive. Blood pressure fine.

And yet — plaque.

The lesson is uncomfortable but simple:

You can be metabolically disciplined and still be particle-heavy.

ApoB does not respond dramatically to virtue. It turns out the liver does not award moral points for clean eating and optimism.


The 2% Reality

A low-dose statin in my case likely reduces absolute 10-year risk by about 2% (If you do not believe this percentage then write to me in the comment - I will share with you the engineering calculation to satisfy your biological curiosity)

Not dramatic.
Not trivial.

This is what prevention actually looks like — incremental, statistical, and deeply uncinematic. No swelling music. Just spreadsheets.


The Plan (No Drama)

Phase 1: Finish 12 weeks of Vitamin D correction.
Phase 2: Recheck ApoB.
Phase 3: Start low-dose statin for 6 months.
Phase 4: Stop for 3 months. Recheck ApoB.

Then decide — preferably without pretending the outcome will surprise me.

If ApoB rebounds above ~110 → long-term statin makes sense.
If it stays below ~95 → lifestyle carries more weight.

No guesswork. Just measurement. Because denial, while emotionally efficient, is biologically expensive.


The Line I am Drawing

ApoB was the signal.

CAC was the confirmation.

Formal Coronary Artery Calcium (Agatston) report confirmingtotal score of 18

The report above is real. Eighteen is small — but it isn’t zero. And zero, I’ve learned, is a very comforting fantasy.

I’m not afraid of a statin. I’m more suspicious of pretending the numbers will age gracefully on their own.

If my ApoB stays stubborn, I’ll choose maintenance over mythology. If it behaves, I’ll accept that — without writing a self-help book about it.

No heroics. No denial.

Just fewer illusions — and less calcium where it doesn’t belong. Not destiny. Not doom. Just accumulated exposure quietly keeping score and data deciding the next decade.

⚠️ Author's Note

These reflections come from an engineer who started learning human biology far too late in life — mostly out of curiosity, partly out of necessity. What began as an attempt to outsmart blood sugar turned into a crash course in metabolism, ratios, and resilience. I’m not a doctor, and this isn’t medical advice. Please consult your physician before experimenting with fasting, diet tweaks, or supplement changes. Think of this as a mid-life engineering project on the body’s operating system — one where trial, error, and humility are all part of the lab work.