He was a timid boy from the Calcutta suburb of Sealdah, son of a deputy collector in the West Bengal excise department, who has retired since. He was a mediocre student—a backbencher for his classmates—and dropped out of his postgraduate class in genetics in Calcutta University. He appeared in the civil services exam; failed but lied to his parents that he got through and would be doing his probation in Mussoorie. Instead, he took up a day job in an event management company—unnoticed, unappreciated and poorly paid. But who could confine an ambitious, smooth-talking, go-getter Debanjan Deb to a clerical apprenticeship? He sought fame—cut a couple of attention-seeking song albums too—and was determined to go low to climb the social ladder. Debanjan, the conman, was born thus. That was 2017.