Atlas’ mother pushed the jar towards him and said, “I made fish pickle for you. You used to love them when you were younger. Taste it and tell me if it still tastes the same.”

Some responsibilities come with the blueprint of life, whether you like it or not. Like being the firstborn. Whenever his parents were away, Atul was expected to watch his siblings.

The front-page image of the cover story on the CEO was a shock to them—it was Aditya, their estranged son. The parents gawked at each other without uttering a word.

We meet at a diner near Dundas, the type that calls itself Southeast Asian-inspired without being specific or authentic. White Singaporean coffee, roti john, laksa, fishball noodle soup, egg tarts, and pineapple buns share the menu with chilli fries and sambar.

Father wanted a son in his image, one who would carry on his legacy. He insisted that we—I mean, you—follow his footsteps and study mechanical engineering.