Introducing Piglet

Hello hello hello! Yes, the lastknight is still alive, and in reasonably good fettle, thank you very much. 

Regular readers of this blog (yes, all three or four of you) already know what's been happening, but in keeping with tradition, one must also chronicle major happenings on this blog. 

Right, so over the last couple of years (or a little longer than that; the mists of time grow hazy as I peer further back), this knight has been somewhat fervently galloping about from village to village in search of a damsel to distress, with the idea of sweeping said damsel off her feet. The search had proved to be rather unfruitful, though. One did come across no small number of dragons, and battled them with mixed results, but damsels (in distress or otherwise) proved to be elusive. 

The lastknight had begun to harbour thoughts of hanging up his suit of armour and living a quiet pastoral life instead, with perhaps a dog for company. However, in a stunning reversal of fortune (and of gender roles as well), a damsel sweeter, prettier, kinder and more intelligent than he could ever have imagined, came out of the blue and found him! 

A whirlwind romance followed, in which the knight was made to realise that he was older and more leaden-footed than he'd believed. However, he also found, to his mild surprise, that he was capable of putting down his shield and opening up; something which he had almost forgotten how to do. One thing led to another, and before they knew it, they were talking about when to put up the banns. :-) 

And with that, without any further ado (but with hopefully an "I do" in the near future :p ), I'm terribly pleased to introduce Piglet - light of my life, keeper of my heart, protector of strays, slayer of exams, and a giant bundle of energy in a most pleasingly petite frame. She lives and loves with no reservations, and she inspires me to be a better man. :-) 

I have bags to pack and a flight to catch tomorrow, so I shall write more about Piglet later. However, my blog being the way it is, one must have a suitable 80's song to round off this post. I think this should be reasonably apt. :-)

Foreigner - Waiting For A Girl Like You

Another Rescue

Regular readers of this blog will recall that there are have one or two times when I've rescued people or animals from slightly sticky situations. A few weeks ago, I found myself in a situation where I had to do something similar. 

For the past few months, I've been giving my neighbour's daughter a ride to her office in the morning, which is on the way to mine. The lady next door is terribly sweet, she opens the door of my flat every morning for the maid and every evening for the cook. Oh, and my physical mail (whatever little of it there is) and gas cylinders also get delivered to her, since I'm not at home for most of the day. 

On one morning, the aforesaid few weeks ago, the neighbour's daughter handed me an envelope bearing my MTNL bill for the month, on our way to our respective workplaces. I tossed it onto my car's dashboard, and then put it in my shirt pocket when I parked at my office. 

I make use of every opportunity I get at work to take the stairs, but since the car parking is in a basement with no connecting stairway to the rest of the building, I then got into the lift to go up to my floor, along with a few other people. 

On the way up, I noticed something moving on the shoulder of the person standing next to me, which on closer inspection revealed itself to be a small green caterpillar. I said to him, "Er, excuse me... There's something on your shoulder!"

In the time that it took him to squint at his shoulder and figure out what I was talking about, I took the envelope out of my pocket and brushed the caterpillar off his shoulder. The lift then stopped at the second floor, and he walked out. 

As the doors of the lift closed, I looked down at the floor, and saw the caterpillar there. It was still moving about, clearly unharmed from the fall. 

The lift then stopped at the third floor, which is where I work. I was about to walk out, but then I looked down at the caterpillar, and wondered about what would happen to it after I left. I realised that since it was wrigggling about in a lift, it would probably soon get stepped on, which would be the end of it. 

Conflicting thoughts jostled for supremacy in my head - one part of me said forget it and walk on, while another part of me was feeling mildly bad for the caterpillar. Then after a second, I made up my mind. 

I thought to myself, 'Bugger it all!', and then bent down towards the caterpillar. I scooped it up onto the envelope that I was still holding, and then strode out of the lift, holding the envelope ahead of me with the caterpillar perched on it. 

I walked straight to the stairwell and went down the stairs. I walked out of the doorway at the ground floor and went to the patch of earth opposite the building, in front of which there was a drain with flowerpots on the metal grill covering it. 

I held the envelope next to a leaf so that the caterpillar could climb onto it, which it promptly did. I then took a few steps back, and watched its progress. 

'Well, that's that,' I thought to myself. But just as I was about to turn and head back up, I suddenly noticed that the plant I'd transferred the caterpillar to was housed in one of the aforementioned flowerpots which were perched on the grill covering the drain, and that the caterpillar was on a leaf which was suspended directly above the grill. 

A gust of wind then blew, and the caterpillar was blown half-off the leaf. Directly beneath the leaf was the grill, which was made of slats of metal with large gaps between them. 

I realised that if the caterpillar fell, it might quite possibly fall into the drain though the spaces in the grill, and that even if it maintained its tenuous hold on the leaf, it would be rather hard for it to make its way to the patch of earth. 

Again, I was about to turn and walk away, but the same impulse which had led me to scoop the caterpillar off the floor of the lift powered me forward again. I walked back to the plant, and held the envelope out towards the caterpillar again, trying to get it back onto the envolope. Only this time, since it was suspended from the leaf, desperately trying to hold on, it wasn't quite as easy to coax it onto the envelope. 

Trying my best to ignore the bemused looks from the guards stationed behind me at the entrance to the building, I kept at it for a few moments more, and was finally able to get the caterpillar back onto the envelope. 

I then held the envelope against a tree growing in the patch of earth, safely away from the drain, and transferred the caterpillar onto the tree. 

Having left it in what seemed like a reasonably safe place, I was then finally able to turn my back on it and make my way to my desk.

Bit of an unusual way to start off a day at work, don't you think? But all said and done, you should probably give me points for being an equal-opportunity rescuer. Be it people, animals or smaller forms of life, if you're in a spot of trouble and the lastknight can help, he'll certainly do his best!

More Sightings On Churches And Tshirts

I've written before about odd or amusing lines that I've seen on notice boards outside churches and on tshirts (though when I went through my old blog posts to find the links, I was mildly taken aback to discover just how long ago I wrote them!). 

I've had a few new sightings of note in the recent past, along similar lines. 

I was driving past the church at Mahim a few months ago, and I looked at the notice board to see what pearl of wisdom they'd put up that day. It turned out that they'd put up three bullet points; exhortations of various kinds to the devout Christian soul. I forget the first and third, but it was the second that really caught my eye. It said, I kid you not, "Be surprised by God". 

Well, I just imagine how that plays out. A husband, wife and young daughter live in a cosy little house. Being staunch Christians, they have a picture of Jesus (the white, caucasian representation, of course, despite the fact that the historical Jesus was a brown-skinned, Middle Eastern male) occupying pride of place in the hall. 

Scene 1: The husband walks into the hall, on his way out to work. He looks at the picture, and starts violently, almost dropping his briefcase. He then takes his handkerchief out of his pocket, with shaking hands, and dabs beads of sweat from his brow. "Good gosh, Jesus," he says, "you really startled me there!"

Scene 2: The wife enters the hall with a duster, going about her daily chores. She looks at the picture, gives a little shriek, and goes weak at the knees. She then leans against the mantelpiece and waits for her heart to stop racing. "Oh my, I really didn't expect to see a picture of Jesus hanging there!," she says, to no one in particular. 

Scene 3: The daughter skips into the hall, carrying her favourite doll with her. She looks at the picture, screams, drops the doll, and goes running back. She goes to her mother, pulls at her skirt, and then looks up at her with wide eyes as she describes how surprised she was to see the picture of Jesus in the hall. 

Scenes 1, 2 and 3 play out every day, multiple times a day. After all, every good Christian must always Be Surprised By God! 

I mean, good grief. 

And a month ago, when I was driving past the church near my house on the way back from work, I spotted this gem: "A bribe in the hand is a sign of mischief in the heart". To which my immediate mental response was, "Well, no shit, Sherlock."

While driving to work last week, I passed one young chappie in a purple tshirt that said, "I'm Weird" on it, in big bold letters. And under that, in smaller font, "Weird's all I've got. That and my style". 

I drove past him and thought to myself, "Ah. I agree."

And then, there was this guy I passed at my local market some time ago, who was wearing a tshirt that said, "You are ridiculously good-looking". 

Inside my head, I tipped my hat to him and said, "Why, thank you!"

True In More Than One Way

My boss has been leaving work every day earlier than me for a while now, for a combination of reasons. I also spend a fair amount of time during my workday away from my desk, so I'm often not around when he leaves for the day.

There was this one week a month or two ago, though, when he and I ended up coordinating our timings in one way, over at least two consecutive days. At a point of time between 5 p.m. and 6 p.m., he'd be at his desk, peering intently at his laptop's screen. I'd also be at my desk (which is right next to his), working away. I'd step out for a bit, to go to the washroom. And when I'd return, a few minutes later, he'd be gone! This happened on two consecutive days for sure, if not on three.

To someone like me, it was a little surprising as to how someone could pack up and leave that fast. I always have a whole bunch of stuff strewn across my desk at work, so it usually takes me at least five minutes to put everything back in its place, lock my drawers and then leave. Also, funnily, it seemed almost as though my boss was just waiting for me to step away from my desk, keenly looking for an opportunity to sneak out behind my back.

I'm sure our uncanny coordination over those few days was just a coincidence, but clearly, we both believe in one fundamental principle of life: when a man's got to go, a man's got to go. :P

Hop Hop

I've recently resumed jogging after work, which I had first started last year, but then stopped in between. I've hardly been getting any exercise lately, and my stomach stubbornly refuses to go back to being as flat as it used to be in my college days, despite the fact that I conscientiously stay away from unhealthy food for most of the week, so I felt it was about time I got back to my daily jogging routine.

I've been getting home at or after 9 in the post-meridian on most days over the past few months, so that means that by the time I get out of my formals, into my sneakers and onto the road, it's usually past 9.30.

One day last week, I was out jogging at a little before 10 pm. I was doing my usual warm-up lap of the colony where I stay, when I noticed something small and white on the road, about a hundred metres ahead of me. My colony's tolerably well-stocked with stray cats and dogs, so I instantly assumed that it was a cat, and then put the thought out of my mind.

As I drew closer, it seemed more and more un-cat-like, however. I began to suspect that it was something else altogether, though it seemed like a bit of a far-fetched thought at the time... Then when I drew abreast with the small white animal and came to a mildly surprised stop, my suspicions were confirmed - it was a rabbit!

Now as you might imagine, rabbits aren't exactly a common sight in Bombay... And you certainly wouldn't expect to find one calmly sitting in the middle of one of the inside lanes of your colony!

The rabbit seemed to be sniffing at a spot on the road. It glanced up at me incuriously, and then went back to its inspection of the patch of road. It seemed a little smaller than I'd expect a full-grown rabbit to be, and it didn't seem to be peturbed at all by my proximity, so I surmised that it was a pet rabbit that had gotten out of its owner's house.

I looked around me, to see if I could figure out where the rabbit had emerged from. The lane was deserted; there wasn't a soul in sight. Then I looked at the building in front of me. There were two flats on the ground floor of the building, adjacent to each other. The one on the left had its front door open, and through it, I could see a middle-aged man with an impressive paunch sitting in a vest and what looked like a lungi. I also glimpsed a young man who looked about my age at the rear of the house, but then he disappeared from sight. 

I looked back at the rabbit; it was still placidly inspecting its immediate whereabouts. Then I looked around me again; still no sign of any other people. I glanced back at the house with the open front door; but felt mildly uncomfortable at the thought of going and ringing the bell and asking if it was their rabbit; largely because of the slightly scary-looking lungi-clad bloke lurking inside.

I was tempted to jog on and leave the rabbit to its own devices, but I didn't feel comfortable doing that, either. It was a rather small little fellow, and judging by its lack of fear of me, evidently not well-versed in surviving in the wild. My father had once told me about a pet rabbit he'd had as a child, which one day got out of the house, ran away, and then suffered the rather unfortunate fate of being eaten by a dog. As I'd mentioned before, the colony where I stay doesn't exactly suffer from a shortage of stray dogs, and I had a nasty feeling that this little fellow would run the risk of becoming a canine dinner if it was unlucky enough to be spotted by one of them.

I stood there for a minute or two, unsure of what to do next. I peered into the house with the open door again, trying to muster up the courage to go and ring the bell. Then the young man I'd earlier spotted caught sight of me. 

He gave me an odd look, no doubt wondering why a stranger in shorts was staring inside his house at 10 at night. I immediately jumped at the opportunity, and waved at him. He walked slowly towards the front door, still probably entertaining suspicious thoughts about my intentions. Then when he reached the door, I called out to him, "Is this your rabbit?"

His face was blank, so I switched to Hindi. I had to strain the old gray cells for a few seconds to remember what you call a rabbit in Hindi (the lastknight will stare down fire-breathing dragons without breaking a sweat, but he does often find himself a little challenged when it comes to parleying in the native language), but fortunately the right word came to me. 

I repeated the question in Hindi, and comprehension suddenly dawned upon him. He replied, "No, that rabbit belongs to the people next door," and then went and rang the doorbell of the adjacent flat. When the owner of the flat opened the door, he said to him, "Your rabbit's gotten out, it's on the road!"

The young man then purposefully strode towards the rabbit, and tried to grab hold of it. The rabbit must have sensed that its newfound freedom was about to be cut short, because it suddenly dashed off to one side, away from the man. The man went left, and the rabbit dashed right. Then the man went right, and the rabbit dashed left. 

After a few more abortive attempts, the man seemed to realise that catching the rabbit was probably easier said than done, and started trying to shepherd it inside the gate of the house from where it had come, instead. But this idea seemed no easier to implement than its predecessor; when the man tried to chase the rabbit from the left, it dashed past the gate and went further right. Then when he tried to chase it from the right, it dashed past the gate again, and this time continued further left. 

I quickly realised that there was no way that one man could corner the rabbit and force it back inside the gate, so I joined the chase, taking up stations by the left side of the gate, as the other chap had the right side covered.

We spent a few merry minutes trying to round up the little fellow, why by now was displaying a surprising turn of agility. The man would chase it from the right, and it would dodge past me and go to the left. I'd then chase it from the left, and it would dodge past the man and go further right. 

Then finally, the young man and I managed to flank the rabbit from both the right and the left simultaneously. Faced with no other option, the little fellow charged back into the house from where it had come, much to the relief of all parties involved. 

The owner of the rabbit thanked the young man and me, and then the young man thanked me too. I smiled modestly at both of them, and then continued my jog, grinning to myself at the memory of what had just happened. 

I say, the lastknight's used to slaying ogres and rescuing damsels in distress, but this is certainly the first time he's ever chased a rabbit... :-)

Spotted On Tshirts

Alright, final installment of this (mini)series, seeing as how I haven't spotten any particularly quirky sights of this kind in a while... Either the world is getting saner, or I'm becoming so used to random sights that they've stopped registering.

'If somebody calls you brother, don't suspect your father'
Well, I'll certainly keep that bit of useful information in mind...

'The world's going to hell and I'm playing the girls'
Eh?

Spotted on Cars

Alright, it's time for the next installment of 'Spotted On...'. Today, we're covering cars.

A few of the more interesting stickers I've spotted on cars in the recent past:

'Cool Singh With A Hot Thing'
Er, I trust he's referring to his car...!

'Patel: The Name Is Enough'
Yeah, who was that Bond fellow anyway? :p (You'd find something like this only in Bombay!)

There was this one car which had a picture of a marijuana leaf on the back... and a Ganesha figurine on the dashboard.
(Yeah, a little leaf makes it easier for you to connect with the great guitarist in the sky, doesn't it?!)

And then there was another car, with a big sticker saying "JESUS" in block letters across the top of the windscreen... and a huge sticker of the playboy bunny logo plastered across the bonnet.
(At least that man's got his priorities right; he put God on top! :p

Spotted Outside Churches

A few 'thought-of-the-day' type one-liners spotted on notice boards outside churches, here in Bombay...

"Give Satan an inch, and he'll become a ruler"

Because Satan is exactly 11 inches tall, of course... :p


"Even a fish would not get into trouble if it kept its mouth shut"

Well, fish are just known for getting into trouble left, right and centre, aren't they? :-)


"Everyone is gifted, just that some people never open their package"

Ahem...! :p

Bring It On!

It’s a rainy Tuesday morning. The world is one big, wet ball of gray. There’s water everywhere you look; fat drops falling from the sky, clammy mists swirling around, eddies gushing across the street, puddles lurking in corners. No matter how big an umbrella you’re under, it finds a way to get to you. It falls at an angle to drench your nether regions, it collects on the pavement to seep into your shoes, it splatters on you off the umbrellas of others, it gets splashed on you by inconsiderate drivers.

But this post is not about the rain. It’s about me.

And the fact that I’m not wet.

Yes, you heard that right… I’m dry! I’m brilliantly, gloriously, blessedly dry! :D

How, you ask? How on earth did even the lastknight, being strong of will and brave at heart, accomplish this seemingly impossible feat? Well, with a simple insight… No knight ever rode out to battle without his suit of armour! :P

Right, so it had been raining since yesterday afternoon. When I went to bed it was raining, and when I woke up in the morning, the first sound I heard was – surprise surprise – the sound of rain! And rather heavy rain it was too, by the sound of it.

The last couple of times I’d to go to work in the rain, I’d ended up pretty much soaked all through, which needless to say ensured a not-very-comfortable day at work. So this time, I was determined to leave no stone unturned in the quest for dryness in the teeth of the storm.

I rolled up my pants, put on a pair of floaters, put my shoes in my bag, put on my raincoat, and buttoned it right up to my chin. Then I wore my bag against my chest, so as to keep it from getting soaked. And finally I opened my trusty umbrella with a flourish, stepped out from under my building, and dared the rain to do its worst.

My flatmate The Questioner, no doubt encouraged by this display of fortitude, decided to do the same himself. Only his raincoat is an opaque navy blue, as opposed to my translucent green (hey, don’t knock it before you see it, it’s funky!), and he was carrying two bags, one against his chest, and the other on his back, so he ended up looking rather one of those black cat commandos setting off on some covert mission… apart from the fact that he was brandishing an umbrella rather than a rifle. :D Actually, we must both have looked like a couple of soldiers setting off to fight a battle, albeit one that was expected to be a trifle more wet than the average skirmish… :P

The first few steps after leaving the safety of my building were pure jubilation; I was dry, and staying that way! However, after about thirty seconds, a more sobering thought began to sink in; it was raining rather less heavily than I’d thought. No one else in sight was carrying or wearing anything more substantial than an umbrella, and they didn’t seem to be any worse the wear for it. Matter of fact, two girls walked past us, and as we approached each other, I heard what sounded like a very definite giggle. Ah well… I suppose there’s no harm in spreading a little cheer on a rainy gray morning! :P

Alright, so we may have a been a tad over-dressed for what turned out to be not as much of a torrential downpour as we'd thought, but we still ended up much drier after it all than we would have been otherwise... After all, even a light drizzle, if you're out in it long enough (even with an umbrella) , can soak you rather thoroughly. The rest of the story’s fairly uneventful… We had to wait for about fifteen minutes to find an auto, then we got to work. Getting out of the raincoat and floaters and into shoes and a tie immediately after reaching work did make the morning a tad more complicated than usual; but the thrill of discovering a dry, albeit slightly crushed shirt underneath more than made up for it! :-)

But the happy ending was not to be, matter of fact, it may have been happy, but it was no ending. As I write, it’s almost half past seven in the evening, and it’s been raining cats and dogs all day. It seems to have tapered off now, but how bad the scene outside will be when I leave is anyone’s guess…

One thing is for sure, though… This knight shall quail at the rains in Bombay no more; for with my trusty raincoat by my side (or around my front, back and both sides, rather :P), he shall brave downpours, puddles and the odd tidal wave without fear!! :D

"Do you want love?!"

This one's from the archives of my old blog... I was studying, or trying to, before yesterday's exam, when I suddenly remembered this incident. I'd forgotten all about it, but it's a nice story, so I thought I'd put it up here...

The original post was dated February 13th, 2008.


So there I was, in a busy market, heading towards a book shop. I'd parked rather far away from it, because I wanted to swing by a shoe shop on the other side of the market to check if they'd gotten these black sneakers in my size (they hadn't) . It hadn't been a very happy day, or a very happy week for that matter, so it was a rather ill-disposed lastknight who stalked the sidewalk, inclined to scowl darkly at the milling crowds who seemed to want nothing more than to merrily laze around getting in his way.

I looked up to chart a course around an island in the river of humanity, and spotted a bloke in what seemed to be a beige suit. Closer inspection revealed it to be a pair of beige cargos and a similarly-coloured beige corduroy jacket. I mentally commended the bloke on his outfit and had just passed by, when I heard a voice speak in a distinctly un-Indian accent, "Mujhe bahut bada stationery shop chahiye." Of course, what came out was more like, "Moo-jhay baa-hoot baa-dah stationery shop chaa-hee-yay." I turned around, and spotted a rather fair-skinned oldish bloke trying to communicate with two girls who seemed to be making a considerable effort to keep their faces straight.

I walked up to him, and asked him if I could help. He immediately looked relieved, and transferred his full attention to me. The girls looked rather relieved themselves, and I soon found out why. Up close, the bird grabbed me by the hand, and asked rather intently about the whereabouts of a stationary shop. However, knights being known for their iron nerves, this one held his ground, and further questioning revealed that the bloke had been going around the market for over an hour hunting for a purveyor of quills and such. He kept trying to talk to me in Hindi, though, upon which I had to interject and say that English was fine. :P I directed him to the nearest one, and pointed him in the general direction for good measure. As I walked him back to his rick, I noticed that the driver seemed to have steam coming out of his ears. He demanded money from the bloke, who responded with something like, "Money later! After trip! Not now!" Anyway, so he thanked me fervently, and they set off. Into the sunset and his happy ending, I thought, and smiled to myself. Little did I know that this tale was far from over.

I watched them go down the road - and turn right straight into the wrong lane. I stifled a curse and charged after them. When I got to the spot where they'd stopped, I found that the bloke had dived into a musty bookshop, and was about to follow him, when the rickshaw driver buttonholed me and started ranting about how he'd been driving around the bloke in circles for hours, in the promise of much gold, but had yet to get so much as a whiff of it. In the meantime, the bloke emerged from the shop, with an owner who looked like he'd seen too many winters, and a boy who certainly hadn't seen enough. The owner told the boy to accompany the bloke to a stationery shop, which I dutifully conveyed to him. He was appreciative, and also rather gratified about the fact that I'd followed them to try and correct their course. He was all set to charge off again, when the rickshaw driver announced his refusal to travel any further without being paid. The bloke told me about how he'd planned to give the rick driver a hundred bucks, so I convinced him to give him half then and the other half later. Driver suitably mollified, the bloke and the boy set off again. Oh, and I explained the way to the boy too, for good measure... again. There we go, I thought, that should be it. Only it wasn't.

I walked back to the main road, looked to my right, and saw the rickshaw emerge from a side lane and stop. The boy hopped out, looking bemused, and starting asking passers-by about the whereabouts of the stationery shop. I shook my head, took a deep breath, and charged towards them again. I got there, dismissed the kid, and told the bloke I'd go along with him. He grinned from ear to ear, thanked me a few more times, and we were off. Along the way, I learnt that his name was Ron, he was from New York, and he'd been coming to India every year since the 1980s to a spiritual guru, and then to his son, for a spot of meditation. He needed to find a stationery shop to buy markers, to write name-tags for some function to be held at the ashram he was staying at. He spoke of the peace and serenity he found in meditation, while I marvelled at the bloke's passion. He asked me if I'd ever tried it, to which I replied in the negative with a smile. He said something like, "Ah, but you're young..."

What followed next was the most interesting bit of the conversation, though...

Ron: "I'm so glad you're here. God sent you there to help me find my way!"
Me: "Ah well, just glad I could help..." (shrug and smile)
Ron: "You know, I could from your face that you would help me"
Me: "Really?" (incredulous)
Ron: "Oh, yes. God creates your face according to your karma. You can tell what a person is like by looking at their face. I looked at your face, and I knew you were a kind, intelligent student who would help me find my way..."

Whoa. Deep, what? Capable of being interpreted in a frightfully politically incorrect, maybe even morally incorrect way. But I don't think he was talking about looks in the conventional sense...

So we reached the stationery shop and bought four markers. Walked out in silent triumph. Ron then hit me with the line of the evening.

"Do you want love?"

Alright, so even an iron-nerved knight can falter.

I was in two minds whether to stay or flee, but he kept speaking, about how some people want money, and some want power, but only those who want to find love find true happiness. He wanted me to come to his ashram give meditation and all a shot, which was about when I started breathing again. :D However, by then I'd had enough of the spiritual talk, so I told him I was kinda busy. Anway, so we walked back to the rickshaw. The driver eagerly asked me if we'd found what we were looked for, and when I replied in the affirmative, he seemed to seriously consider the thought of doing cartwheels interspersed with the odd somersault or two. He decided against it though, much to my disappointment.

Ron then dropped me back at the market, and thanked me a few more times on the way (the lastknight's modest smile was experiencing rather heavy use that evening). I disembarked and saw off a rather happy pair - Ron, who'd successfully completed his mission, and a rickshaw driver who'd earned a lot more for a few hours' work than he normally did. Then I finally went to the bookshop, basking in the afterglow of a day's good deed done.

The entire episode had taken about forty minutes from start to finish. But the moment of the evening had occurred just after Ron and the kid set off from the musty bookshop - as the rickshaw drew away, Ron leaned out of the back of the rickshaw, beamed at me, and flashed a V-sign at me.

I swear, I hadn't grinned that broadly in the entire week before this episode.

Hm. Maybe I was meant to be there at that place and time. :)

Quotable Quotes From Sandman

I recently finished reading Sandman, by Neil Gaiman, a graphic novel. Actually, it's one of the graphic novels, unanimously acknowledged as one of those that define the genre. At this point, the question that's bound to pop up is, what really is a graphic novel? Well, it's a little hard to explain to someone who hasn't read one, but I'll give it a shot.

Firstly, no, graphic novels are not comic books. They may have their origins in the same seed, but comparing something like Sandman to Archie comics would be like comparing Shakespeare to John Grisham. Graphic novels usually deal with more adult themes and have more complex storylines. They also have more creative artwork, as well as deeper accompanying text and dialogues.

Sure, if you look at them in their most basic sense, they do tell stories by way of illustrated panels, like comics do. But it would be safe to say that while every graphic novel is a comic, not every comic is a graphic novel.

There's been much debate on the issue of graphic novels vs. comic books, in which many are of the view that the term 'graphic novel' is unnecessary, or just used to justify selling collected editions of a comic at higher prices, but the view of a graphic novel being a comic with a storyline more like that of a book than a comic is still widely accepted, (that sentence is really easy to understand, isn't it? :P) so I'm going to stick with calling Sandman a graphic novel, even though its author Neil Gaiman himself would rather refer to it as a comic book.

So now that we're clear on the terminology, (or so I hope) we can get right down to brass tacks. For anyone looking to get started with graphic novels, I'd recommend Sandman very highly. Actually, even for someone not interested in graphic novels, I'd still strongly recommend it. Anyone who has a little imagination, and the willingness to use it, would certainly enjoy this series. It made me feel, and it made me think, which is more I can say for many books I've read. Both these attributes aren't uncommon on their own, but it's a little harder to find them together in one literary work.

The artwork is downright beautiful, and has a variety which ensures that whether you like or dislike it, you won't get bored with it. The storylines are layered, multi-faceted and thoroughly engaging. And the dialogues are haunting, lyrical, some even bordering on the philosophical. The characters shown are a far cry from the usual stark shades of black and white usually encountered in comics, and illustrate the many different shades of grey encountered in the human species. All in all, Sandman is a thoroughly enthralling read. I found it rather addictive, personally... It was deuced hard to stop reading it, even when I was supposed to be studying for the CFA.

For those of you who haven't heard about this series at all, the Sandman is Morpheus, Lord of Dreams, and the central character in this story. Neil Gaiman himself once summarised the plot of the the series as "The Lord of Dreams learns that one must change or die, and makes his decision." Dream is one of the seven Endless, beings who are older and greater than gods, with the other six being Death, Destruction, Desire, Delerium, Despair and Desire.

But enough from me; I'll let a few quotes from the series do the rest of the talking.

(All quotes from The Quotable Sandman, by Neil Gaiman)

Things need not have happened to be true. Tales and dreams are the shadow-truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes, and forgot.

-Dream

Destinations are often a surprise to the destined.

-Thessaly

It's astonishing how much trouble one can get into, if one works at it.

-Destruction

It is a fool's prerogative to utter truths that no one else will speak.

-Dream

Little one, I would like to see anyone - prophet, king or god - persuade a thousand cats to do anything at the same time.

-Orange Cat

But he did not understand the price. Mortals never do. They only see the prize, their heart's desire, their dream... But the price of getting what you want, is getting what you once wanted.

-Dream

We do what we do because of who we are. If we did otherwise, we would not be ourselves.

-Dream

Nah. He enjoys it. I mean, hell, it's a pose. Y'know? He spends a coupla months hanging out with a new broad. Then one day the magic's worn off, and he goes back to work, and she takes a hike. Phhht. Now, guys like me, ordinary Joes, we just shrug our shoulders, say, hey, that's life, flick it if you can't take a joke. Not him. Oh no. He's gotta be the tragic figure standing out in the rain, mourning the loss of his beloved. So down comes the rain, right on cue. In the meantime everybody gets dreams fulla existential angst and wakes up feeling like hell. And we all get wet.

-Mervyn Pumpkinhead

You got what anybody gets, Bernie. You got a lifetime.

-Death

It has always been the prerogative of children and half-wits to point out that the emperor has no clothes.

But the half-wit remains a half-wit, and the emperor remains an emperor.

-Dream

A few words of explanation before the last one; the Library of Dreams exists in the Dreaming, Dream's realm. It contains all the books that were ever thought of, or dreamed, but not written. For instance, The Mystery of Edwin Drood by Charles Dickens can be found in the Library of Dreams. G.K. Chesterton wrote a book called The Man Who Was Thursday, arguably his best-known book (and on my to-read list). It has been described as "one of the hidden hinges of twentieth-century writing, the place where, before our eyes, the nonsense-fantastical tradition of Lewis Carroll and Edward Lear pivots and becomes the nightmare-fantastical tradition of Kafka and Borges."

Anyway, here we go. This one's my personal favourite:


October knew, of course, that the action of turning a page, of ending a chapter or of shutting a book, did not end a tale.

Having admitted that, he would also avow that happy endings were never difficult to find: "It is simply a matter," he explained to April, "of finding a sunny place in a garden, where the light is golden and the grass is soft; somewhere to rest, to stop reading, and to be content."

-from The Man Who Was October by G.K. Chesterton/Library of Dreams

Testing...

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog