In my long history of forming and expressing opinions about storytelling, the most frequent complaint has been: "why does he talk?" Why should I talk? Why should I tell you my story? For you it is another story. For your amusement good sirs, I should reveal my triumphs and tribulations, my nadirs and insecurities? To what end? It is not that I do not want to. Everyone wants to. Only to very few and in very few occasions when one is convinced it makes sense to.
A writer is supposed to be just a regular guy with an eye open for irony and meaning. Fine. But then he needs to be able to handle the question he asks himself 'If so, then what do I bring to the table?'
I went to two libraries today. Nothing ironic thus far.
The Anna centenary library was exceedingly well stocked. It seemed to stock even those books that academics would write to keep tenure and you feel special for sniffing out and reading. Just that they are not open to membership yet. You are welcome to park yourself in their excellent premises for the day, browse through shelf after shelf and try and read as an enviable view of the city competes for attention. But no borrowing. And the folks were clueless about plans to open up memberships. 'Check the newspapers' I was told.
This post is to bid to elucidate the roots of admiration that explain the etymological roots of this blog
John Wayne said 'In all my films, I have played John Wayne. And I have done rather well, haven't I ?" On the other hand, Oscar Wilde most famously said "I put my genius into my life I put only my talent into my works". Two contrasting schools. But what happens when the artist in question is genius personified ?
If the previous paragraph sounded sophomoric, well you guessed right. It was the gist of the opening paragraph of a piece I tried writing when in college, titled : "Of Wayne, Goundamani and Wilde". The intended recipient was "The Hindu" of indhula-sandhula fame. The paper had published an article the previous week hailing a then hot comedian which was a tad too effusive in praise for my taste. So I had set about trying to right wrongs.Of course, the article with the rejection slip came back home before I was even back from the po…