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A quick tale 208

The business of writing

So I sit down to write this piece about what keeps me from writing the things I want to. I know precisely what I’m going to write. It will be funny, incisive and brutally insightful. I’ll start with something rather reflective. Then I’ll elaborate into something typically self-deprecatory. I bet that will get the chuckles. Finally, I’ll end on a positive note. About being focussed and how to keep the fire burning against all odds and stuff like that. I should be able to wrap it all up in say, 500 words tops. And once I’m done, I’ll treat myself to a lovely bar of chocolate. One of those with 70% cocoa. Fair-trade and organic, obviously. At nearly 400 calories to a bar, I need all the guilt off-setting I can afford. I remember that hideous woman on TV telling some poor old overweight sod that he would have to power walk for 5 hours to burn off all the calories from his curry dinner. I wish he’d burnt off some of the calories by smacking that obnoxious, self-righteous bitch on camera.

Look at me breaking into a sweat at the thought of some silly tv show. I wonder if thinking burns up calories. All this thinking and writing business must use up some energy. After all, you don’t see very many obese writers, do you? I mean, look at that Rowling woman. All prim and pampered on the jacket of her book. Mind you, if you are the richest woman in England (some say the world!), surely you can get someone to suck all the fat out of you. Bet at some point in her life, she too must have sat at her desk like me and wondered about the book lurking inside her waiting to get out. Talking of which, I had better crack on. Now, where was I? Ah yes, something tragic-comic about writing. Oh! I think I have the perfect beginning. Which I will jot down. Just as soon as I investigate the dripping noise from the kitchen.

Comments

Shyam said…
Did you read my mind or something? How else could you "out" me?? :)

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Bio-data

Married for 31 years, 2 months and 17 days
Six cups coffee a day, brewed everyday of marriage
Three meals a day,
At least two dishes cooked, each meal-time
One snack for every Sunday
Big basket of clothes ironed every Tuesday
Average 18 items of clothing washed per day
Three children
1 miscarriage
One mother-in-law suffered
900 sq metre of floor space mopped, once a day
One caesarean endured
3 chicken poxes, 2 measles, 2 fractures, 8 diarrhoeas, depression, conjunctivitis every summer, 1 tonsilitis and countless common colds and flues
1 job held for 29 years
6 hours slept every night
Sex tolerated every 2nd week
Religious rituals everyone of them, carried out
Not one of them, believed in
Lived 52 years and some
Died exhausted

Overheard, “At least she had the satisfaction of having lived for her family”


http://jikku.blogspot.com/2005/02/quick-tale-3.html#c111042815438237631

The Saturday Poem

Found this in yesterday's paper. Again, I wish I'd written it.

-a

Now and Then

"Now that I'm fifty-seven",
My mother used to say,
"Why should I waste a minute?
Why should I waste a day

Doing the things I ought to
Simply because I should?
Now that I'm fifty-seven
I'm done with that for good."

But now and then I'd catch her
Trapped in some thankless chore
Just as she might have been at
Fifty-three or fifty-four

And I would say to her
(And I have to bite my tongue)
That if you mean to learn a skill
It's well worth starting young

And so, to make sure I'm in time
For fifty, I've begun
To do exactly as I please
Now that I'm thirty-one.

-Sophie Hannah

Lost in Post

To a little boy

It cannot be easy being you. A follow-up act to your more devilishly charming, flamboyant older brother. Before you were born, I was convinced that no child could ever take the special place your brother had come to occupy in my life. I used to argue with your father you would always be a second-born. A runner-up. A bridesmaid (or a best-man, as you turned out to be). That you could never be the prized, cherished, celebrated apple of my eye that my firstborn child was. But how easily you tore down my flimsy little conviction. The minute I saw you, I knew I was gone. What was worse, I succumbed willingly.

My fears that you would be overshadowed by your brother have proven unfounded. Over the past year, you have come into your own as a person. Your brother demands and challenges our love and attention. You, on the other hand, are much more accepting of our distractions with him. It is almost as if you understand that he is used to being the star of the show for much of his…

I ask, you write

Okay, here's the idea. I ask you a question and you write a short story explaining it. Let me give you an example.

What happened when young Padmavathi was drawing water from the well to wash her clothes, early one Margazhi morning?

Annon's story

One morning when Padmavathi was drawing water from the well, she found Pettai Rowdy # 1 Govindarajulu inside the bucket! She dropped it at once and Govindarajulu went down and down and hit the bottom of the well with a Nung sound. His upper and lower teeth fused together and since then he has been fed intravenously. Pettai Rowdy # 2, Ragothaman Iyengar, who suggested this to Govindarajulu, now rules the roost.

After marrying Padmavathi, he is inviting all of you to a water drawing ceremony at the new well they dug in their house.

Jai Ragothaman Iyengar! Jai Padmavathi! Come one, Come all!

-

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What happened that made young Meenakshi change her mind about the parrot green saree she had originally chosen and go for a …