Uderzo, au revoir

My aunt flew for Air India.

Every trip back she would bring in the latest copy of Asterix and Obelisk.

From ‘Asterix the Gaul’, to ‘Asterix and the Son’, every single one.

Between the ages of 10 and 14, I had read them all. Repeatedly.

And in the evolution of my own personal style of humour, the battle was between René Goscinny and Albert Uderzo's decidedly French turn of phrases, translated brilliantly by Derek Hockridge and Anthea Bell; and PG Wodehouse’s taciturn, yet shudderingly-powerful snark, Jeeves.

Uderzo won. Woodehouse’s Jeeves a close run in. I did not do Tintin.

PS: Pic credit: Getty

Corona lessons

Somethings I have learned during the time of Coronavirus. 

• My mum, 75, has been washing her hands with soap and water, for at least 20 seconds, from before I was born.
• Flu is contagious, flu can kill you, flu is not to be underestimated.
• Anybody who came from a war-time generation is mildly amused by the hyper-panic, yet is wisely pragmatic.
• Technology, as the general social population understands and engages it, is largely useless.
• Life can quickly be brought down to its lowest common denominator – survive and stay alive.

Evolve to, or evolve from?

The Ig-halo

Odion Ighalo is living not just his dream, but the dream of every Manchester United fan – 500 million, at last count.

Playing, and scoring, for his beloved club.

However, beyond that headline material is the manner in which Ighalo has gone about his job.

Humble on camera, a demon on the pitch.

There is a certain chemistry at play for a club’s legion to fall in love with a player. That is put to the test when the player has a bad run.

That’s when the player’s character matters.

Ighalo has the character to stand the test of time.

Covid 19 vs Cov-WTF-whenever, in Pune

I am standing between friends – Punekars, one a millennial, the other, old school.

The millennial refuses to shake hands.

The old-schooler insists I shake his hand.

Covid 19 vs Cov-WTF-whenever.

The argument on my street is not whether to contract it or not, but, will it kill me?

Old-school Punekar: not a chance. The Indian immune system, old-school hygiene and a mix of what-we-eat-and-our-heat keeps me alive.

Millennial Punekar: cool, let me watch you die. I will not be a carrier.

Me: I am torn between the two.

I shook the old-schooler’s hand…

…and then, cleaned mine with sanitiser.

The Empire strikes back

Cometh the hour (generally, a time of crisis), cometh the Indians; or, as is the snowflakey, politically correct way to put it - cometh those of Indian descent.

Rishi Sunak and Priti Patel lead the UK in a time of Coronavirus, Brexit and Liverpool winning the Premier League.

The Empire strikes back, and how. Impeccable educational credentials for one, Stanford and the like, have been the calling card of every global Indian for the better part of the last 100 years.

Do what the eff you want, my parents screamed, but study.

I look at my son. He’s trainspotting.

Niranjan Prakash, over, but never out

The Niranjan I knew was sore for the most part.

He bitched about me endlessly for the most part.

He was mean, petty and vicious for the most part.

However, he was insanely talented and bewilderingly intelligent. He commanded my attention and respect for that alone.

The maverick, emotionally broken but intellectually too far evolved for today’s snowflake dynamic, would roll his eyes and hit me with a snarky come back as I would try to argue some global socio-political dynamic, or question a deeply Marathi tradition.

Niranjan Prakash, I will miss you. As will my wife and kids.

Apocalypto

I am looking at the locust plague in Africa and the Middle East; the continuous movement of the Earth’s innards causing volcanic eruptions, earthquakes and sinkholes; megaliths of ice melting, and now Covid-19.

Has humanity simply lived itself to the point of extinction? We have busted the environment, that is for sure. Now, it is all about damage control.

And for me, the question is: what future am I leaving to my children?

The apocalyptic nature of these questions is brought on by a very palpable access to information, as it happens, across each metre of the world’s expanse.