Two Beggars

Last Sunday near Victoria Terminus, I saw the most remarkable beggar I have ever seen in my life. He wore lipstick, an orange cap, and a black, orange and green windcheater. His teeth were in a state of abominable decay. His nails were painted in different colours. On his back was a spectacularly colourful patchwork sack; a mobile phone dangled from his neck.

Some little distance down Threadneedle Street, upon the left-hand side, there is, as you may have remarked, a small angle in the wall. There sat Neville St. Clair, alias Hugh Boone. A shock of orange hair, a pale face disfigured by a horrible scar, which, by its contraction, had turned up the outer edge of his upper lip, a bulldog chin, and a pair of very penetrating dark eyes: these were enough to mark him out from amid the common crowd of mendicants. But Neville St. Clair appeared in Conan Doyle’s fiction, set in bleak, grey London. In colourful South Bombay, obviously, stronger measures had been called for.

There’s No Such Thing as a Free Dinner

Around 8.30 in the evening, on days when there’s not too much work, we interns face an interesting choice. If we stay back for an hour, we can order out at any restaurant of our choice. The dinner will be billed to the law firm. We will also be entitled to claim cab fare. If we leave, no candy.

Every afternoon, visions of free pizzas and biryani float before our eyes. Every afternoon, Lahiri and I promise ourselves that tonight we shall be resolute. Every evening, as soon as the opportunity presents itself, we unceremoniously slip out.

We buy dinner, and go to Marine Drive, where we meet up with friends who are interning at other law firms in Bombay. We eat our packed dinner at the seafront, and enjoy the surf in our faces. We discuss moots, shopping, Wordsworth, swivel chairs, and many other unimportant things. We inhale the smell of the sea (which we compare favourably to that of Lahiri’s feet). We laugh a lot. When we’ve polished off the last of the chicken, we use Abira’s hand sanitiser. Just before midnight, we go home.

What can explain this economically inefficient behaviour, especially on the part of me and Lahiri - two dyed-in-the-wool devotees of free food? By doing what we choose to do, I know that we forgo our free dinner. I know that we spend anything from Rs. 40 to 60 on a dinner that is not a patch on what we would have got at the firm. And I know that tonight, unless some hard-hearted associate forces us to stay back late, we will slip out. Again.

Hasty Clarification

Okay, I should read gtalk transcripts carefully before I post them on a public forum. My first post carries an acknowledgment from Saha that my farts are the smelliest around. That is sure to raise a few eyebrows.

For the uninitiated, he was referring to the Fascinating Assortments of Random Trivia (F.A.R.T.s for short) that I periodically mail to some of my friends.

At least, that’s what I hope he was referring to.

Three Reasons for not Having a Blog

There are three very good reasons I can think of for not starting a blog:

1. It seems presumptuous to imagine that people will be the least bit interested in what I insignificant thing did and what stupid thing I thought.

2. There is a distinct possibility that I will lose interest in the blog and abandon it a few months down the line.

3. I think that if I ever write anything that’s meaningful or good, it is the private entries in my diaries and notebooks, written for my eyes only. The moment I write for public consumption, I try to sound funny, or intelligent, or erudite. I try to be something I’m not. In a word, I mess up.

Against that, there was just one reason why I did start a blog.

Excerpt from gtalk conversation with my esteemed friend Rahul Saha (31 March 2008):

Saha: ok..ppl are asking me if u have a blog...if not it is requested by many u start one and blog the FARTS especially
me: very nice! who are these admirers? :D
Saha: visa bala and me that i know of...but ther are others i am sure...ur farts are universally acknowledged as the smelliest arnd
me: hehe. thing is, i'm rather protective of what i write. i know it's silly, but i don't start a blog because i feel it might be ignored by people
Saha: fat chance...just put it up and judge for urself
me: and i probably wouldn't really get much of a positive return if the blog was read by diff people, while it'd be depressing to be simply ignored
Saha: stop this utilitarian bullshit
me: okay, lemme think it over
Saha: i leave it to u...any free dinners yet?

And we moved on to other topics. I have always been a sucker for flattery.

Edit: FARTs stands for Fascinating Assortments of Random Trivia, which I used to send to a mailing list of friends.