Anecdotal Evidence

The conscious man's smile surely is fake How else can he with his weighty thoughts bear The wide world's misery to which he's awake And smile as if, it is all quite fair I can only ditto what greats thus spake Content that the answer is somewhere there Had the cave man laughed, history would have been different - Lord Henry Wotton, Picture of Dorian Gray Gratiano : Let me play the fool: With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come (Act I, Sc I, Merchant of Venice) Why has my motley diary no jokes? Because it is a soliloquy and every man is grave alone. Ralph Waldo Emerson As a writer of light fiction, I have always till now been handicappedby the fact that my disposition was cheerful, my heart intact, and my life unsoured. Handicapped, I say, because the public likes to feelthat a writer of farcical stories is piquantly miserable in his privatelife, and that, if he turns out anything amusing, he does it simply inorder to obtain relief from the almost insupportable weight o...

We are good friends now and I really enjoy your company. I mean that and not in an all-words-fake-warmth way that is natural to that line. But just for a moment, can you imagine....how it would been if things had gotten serious between us back then. We had many things that clicked and truth be said, the freedom and flexibility I had with you, did in many ways make me whatever little I am. But I was always conscious of our dissance. For a while I thought I could like you in my own way but after a point I could not deny certain things. Like how you were always too quick and dare I say, of a rather unmanageable size for me. And I too meek and nondescript to match with you. We ended it right and now I am only even more sure of that. Aspects of you I knew and enjoyed have changed substantially but in some inexplicable way you are the same. I wish I could say the same about myself. Happy Valentine's Day Mumbai !

Regarding translation, AKRamanujan mentions a lovely story about how a Chinese emperor tried digging a tunnel. A minister suggested digging from both sides and the emperor asked him what is the digging didn't meet. "Then we will have two tunnels instead of one" came the reply. Enamoured by the analogy this writer takes his pick-ax and gets to work. Those who know the Tamil original, the tunnel story is for you. And those who don't, well it atleast rhymes, doesn't it ? A bright little spark of fire I found And tucked it away in a burrow in the woods All the forest was razed to the ground Does the rage of fire know its shouldn'ts and shoulds

Like the philosophically inclined kitten which is carried by the mother cat by the scruff of his neck, I lazily await enlightenment. I hear it is a tradition that is rooted in humility as it passes the buck to powers that be to care enough. But the central issue is, how can I care about, let alone long for, what is allegedly an acutely I-less, scheme of things The first story I remember writing, was written with crayons. Not drawn, written. I was in a school that believed children's hands are too soft to wield a pencil till they were seven. Where are those places now ? Anyway,the story ended with the words "...then I died" . I seem to have had an early understanding that sorrow was the cornerstone of serious literature. Atleast that's what I plan to say when the NY Review of Books interviews me. It was set in McDonald type farm and it wasn't much of a story as much as it was a description of the grim melee of animals pitted against each other - which in retrospect...

It is ruthless how people expect everyone to have an opinion on the economics slowdown. I don't mind humouring cabdrivers and supplying their solid common sense with some jargon armoury. But someone starts a serious conversation I so wish he talked about whether. "You did economics right, so what do you think went wrong ? People say it's going to be say it's going to be dim the next three fiscals.." That's my cue word. From there I know I am in a conversation I should be out of real quick. I try the old but sure trick "look there is Ramalinga Raju" and gently slip out. Why do they do this ? Do you see me starting polite conversations with electrical engineers on the lines of "suppose you have a solenoid of length n ". Is it too much to ask to be extended the same courtesy. But, you may point to a flaw in my argument that electrical engineers will probably smack their lips and relish such conversation. But you see, that is one of the reasons...

For some reason people classify puns under jokes when it quite obviously classifies under poetry. Among the several purposes of this blog is to right that wrong. A carpenter known for his innovations also used to moonlight as a deer hunter. Once he lurked in the dark and after a hard struggle proved to be an ace marksman and killed a poor dear. Famished he settled down on an instant barbecue and as soon as he finished the meal he lost his eyesight.That day he discovered venison blinds

Srikkanth finally does what he was hired for. Balaji back in the team. Jokes apart, he had an awesome Ranji season, leading TN's charge . The team itself had a good run and would have made it to the final (to lose to Mumbai of course), had it not been for the infernal first innings lead rule - which in this writer's opinion should be taken out and shot - that awarded UP the semifinal, because a blighter made a virtue of longevity and camped in the middle for a week or so. It is unfortunate that during the the partisan days the sceptre only that far south to Gundappa Viswanath and no further. Watching Sujith Somasunder open for India gave me hope in life, in those days when I worked the sheen off the rubber ball with what the embellishing racounter in me describes as a "many a glorious square drive", saying to myself "mEra number aayEga". These days there seem to overbalance as Badri waits in the sidelines as Srikkanth seems intent on making another Badani o...