Kane & Abel

Jeffrey Archer.

I met him today. Well, more like I saw him, shook his hands, smiled at him, sniggered at some of his jokes, tooks notes of whatever he had to say about the new Bangalore airport and his new book, rolled my eyes at his quirks and finally got a book signed for dad. At the end of it, it really was refreshing to get out of the five star British air and breathe in the chaos of MG road.

Nonetheless, the old Brit author has made a little dent on my life. My dad had coaxed me to read Kane & Abel when I was eleven, hoping to keep me from the gooey trap of the sweet Barbara Cartland’s verbal yarns. The story of rags to riches and riches to legend did succeed in ensuring my reading plans consisting of Mills & Boon (and the like) remained shelved indefinitely, besides ensuring that I remain a book feline for life.

Even after years of the addictive classics, the passionate Russians, the characteristic Indians, the brilliant non-fictions and the heavy Greeks, the book still remains one of my favourite (Archer hates the phrase pulp/popular fiction by the way! Prefers calling himself a popular story teller. Well..) I do not remember if the book was a literary masterpiece but the story is one that I would not forget in a hurry.

I’m about to start reading the new book and am a little apprehensive. Not sure if the childhood hero will remain as is.

Flutterby child turns 21!

I feel like a born middle-aged cynical comma sometimes. All thanks to either a strong dose of ’save the world’ by one of them activists, drilling in enough guilt to mine quite a treasure of sparkling relfection, or a mirage of ambition, contantly tantalizing my existence. My lil one, my sister Mona, thankfully becomes what I can safely call my quiet place in the mad mad world.

Ms. Flutterby, with all her enthusiatic ruckus, turns 21 today! Though expectations would dictate a greater discretion over effervescence and screechy declarations of the happy secret life, I do hope the flutterby remains as is. With all the frills, the gurgling baby talks, the sombre acceptance and rebellion against all things pissing off, and all of the delighted recitations of ‘nobody’s child’ in public places:-)

 

I only wish the lil jazz dancer was here…