Krazy Kochi

" O ne for Sorrow Two for Joy Three for Letter Four for Boy Five for a Secret never to be Told." (Oops I got that wrong. Comment alert.) It goes.... "Five for Silver Six for Gold Seven for a Secret Never to be Told." -Old School Rhyme I still dread spotting the solitary Mynah. It is the Seal of Sorrow. And it adds to my pain of spotting another, the Joy. The usual was after an unsuccessful attempt I would resign to my fate and promptly forget the miserable portent. It was at that time- when the Day wilted and the hour curled around the edges and drowsiness captured my thoughts and dulled it slowly. The wail of the Oriental Magpie Robin pierced the stillness and interrupted my siesta. It was an agitated wail, high pitched, enough to move me from my bed to the balcony. My mother likes to call these birds Kundikulikki translated it would mean Bum Shaker- they have a certain swagger when they wa...

I don’t know what genre the critics have slotted Nishabd. I think, so do the amused theatre goers in this small city, that it fits rather snugly into Senile Comedy ( i.e.Comedy gone senile). The self inflicted compulsions of watching the ridiculous ( Nishabd) or reading the ridiculous (Booker Prize: The Inheritance of Loss By Kiran Desai ) is the result of studying with religious earnestness the reviews of fat and rich critics and agonizing weirdly that I will pass into the next world without seeing the Indian Lolita- an old man ascetically denying himself the touch of youthful silky lush flesh or before I finish the “momo”fied banal writing that is being brandished as the classic of the times. I cannot miss such stuff of the times if I need to comprehend the national debates that are indefatigably aired in my living room night after night. (The Gose and Barkha variety!) Set in beautiful lush Munnar, the old man ( you know who I am referring to) drives around, takes a few photograp...