Faith can endure centuries of failure.

Even though so many of his ancestors had unsuccessfully tried to kill me, King Vikram hauled me on to his back and said, “Today’s the day I kill you, you foul vampire.”

-If you must, O’ King, I said charitably. “Before you do that, let me tell you a story, at the end of which I’ll ask you a question. If you speak the answer, I’ll fly away. If you know the answer and keep silent, your head will burst into a thousand pieces, in which case you will find it impossible to bite your fingernails properly.”

-Hummph, said King Vikram.

-Listen up O’ King, I said. Arvind was a young boy in the city of Chennai in India. He wasn’t a mature person, I regret to say. Why do I say that? Because he argued frequently with the girl he dated.

His girlfriend once said that eggs were white with yellow centers. He argued right back insisting that eggs were in fact yellow with white circumferences. His girlfriend once said, Oh look at that swan, it was once an ugly duckling. Arvind laughed. He said, Ugly ducklings live and die ugly. They never get become beautiful swans.

Once, he and his girlfriend saw a video of Kurt Cobain playing Where Did you Sleep Last Night.

Arvind told his girlfriend that in this age of rampant commercialism, Kurt Cobain was an authentic singer. His girlfriend disagreed. She said that if Kurt Cobain was really a 100% authentic, he would sing not Where Did You Sleep Last Night, but a song called Sweat, Oh Sweat, Under the Lights.

Blasphemy against God was forgivable. Blasphemy against Nirvana was idiocy. Arvind promptly broke up with his girlfriend.

Tell me O’ King, I said. What did his girlfriend mean when she said Sweat, Oh Sweat, Under the Lights. And was Arvind justified in breaking up with her?

-Arvind was an idiot, said King Vikram. His girlfriend was completely right. Over the years, human beings have been increasingly caught up in the notion of authenticity. But authenticity is in itself more a condition to aspire towards. It is a desire rather than an actual state. If Kurt Cobain was100% authentic, he would have at that very moment sung about it being so hot and sweaty under the glaring studio lights. The correct word I would use to describe Kurt Cobain would be “sincere”. As a species, sincerity is something that we can all aspire to. It is a more meaningful and fulfilling notion than some imagined concept of authenticity.

-Well spoken, O’ King, I said. But now that you have spoken, I will fly away. As I flew away, I thought of Kurt Cobain. The man was sincere as hell and I doubt if you could find a talent like him in heaven.

I was sitting on my tree thinking alternately of sports and other matters combative, when King Vikram pulled me down.

-Foul devil! he said. Today, I will kill you, and complete the incomplete assignment of my ancestors.

I had heard this threat before, and was not unduly worried.

- O’ King, I said in an even voice, even as King Vikram carried me away to kill me. Let me tell you a story, at the end of which I’ll ask you a question. If you speak the answer, I’ll fly away. If you know the answer and keep silent, your head will burst into a thousand pieces, in which case you will find it difficult to smile nicely for a family photo.

-Humph! said King Vikram, not in the mood to show off his extensive vocabulary.

-Tell me king. Of the Pakistani cricketers, Indians don’t mind Imran Khan. In fact many of them like him. But they hate Javed Miandad. Can you tell me why? If you know the answer, speak now, or your head will…

-Shut up you of the undead! That’s not even a story. It’s a question. And a pretty obvious one at that.

For the Indian cricket fan, anyone who comes in the way of victory belongs to the nether world. But Imran Khan was like an asura. He was an opponent, but a noble one. Like an asura, he fulfilled an important role of an opponent, which is necessary to preserve the order in the universe.

But Miandad never played by the rules. It seemed that he was never guided by morals. He was a rakshasa…why just like you. And how could one ever respect him?

-Well spoken, O’ King, I said. But now that you have spoken, I will fly away.

-Wait, said King Vikram. You may go. But I thought it bears mentioning that the real rakshasas are in our mind. For even though we don’t play sport, we treat it as a matter of life and death.

He was a wise man. But this was no time for appreciation. It was a time for survival.

I flew away faster than a six from Miandad’s bat. And as I flew these videos played in my mind.

- O’ King, I said, even as King Vikram carried me away to kill me. Let me tell you a story, at the end of which I’ll ask you a question. If you speak the answer, I’ll fly away. If you know the answer and keep silent, your head will burst into a thousand pieces, in which case you will find it difficult to pose meaningfully for your driver’s license photo. Listen up, I began. King, as you well know, I am not a vegetarian. I eat…

-Shut up you of the undead! said King Vikram. I don’t want to know what you eat. He began to breathe heavily. I felt worried for his health and decided to skip the details of the ingredients that made up my meals.

A man when drunk is susceptible to tempatations like house music and meat samosas

- At any rate, I said, I am not a vegetarian. But Vinay was. Vinay was an earnest young boy who gave up eating meat because he didn’t like killing animals. One day, he went to a party. To remove the social anxiety he was feeling, he got drunk in the first fifteen minutes. A man when drunk is susceptible to temptations like house music and meat samosas. The host of the party offered Vinay a samosa with a chicken filling.

-No thank you, said Vinay politely. I am a vegetarian.

-Religious reasons? asked the man.

-No, said Vinay. It’s just that I don’t like killing animals.

-Oh, excuse me your Holiness, said the man. But do you know that you cause pain to plants when you pluck them?

-Really, said Vinay. Partly due to alcohol and partly due to epiphany, the room swam before his eyes.

-What do you say O’ King? Was the man right to ask Vinay to eat meat?

- In so far that plants can feel pain, the man was right.Science has shown that plants can emit the equivalent of howls when plucked or damaged.

But he overlooked an important thing. If you can eat an animal even after seeing it die, it hardens you. Every time you eat meat, you ignore the visible pain of another. You lose just a little bit of empathy, and become just a little more indifferent – and if I may say so, uncaring.

On the other hand, you really can’t see a plant suffer. You don’t have to harden yourself when you take a knife to a cabbage. Staying vegetarian doesn’t necessarily help you become a kinder person – but it sure helps you remain one.

-Well said, O’ King. Now, that you have spoken, I am free to escape. Watch me go faster than a chicken who has just discovered a hole in its coop.

He watched me.

King Vikram hauled me on to his back with a view to ending my existence. I shivered with fear, and at the same time, admired his persistence.

- O King! I said, by way of conversation. I will now tell you a story. At the end of this story, I’ll ask you a question. If you know the answer and speak it, I’ll fly away. However, if you know the answer and remain silent, your head will burst into a thousand pieces, in which case you will find it impossible to shampoo and condition.

-Hummph! said King Vikram. Stepping deftly over a pothole, he walked on intently.

Just as a sprinter is tasked with running faster, she had to type at higher speeds every day

-Listen up O’ King. I said. Let me tell you a story of two women.

Nina was a receptionist in a large corporation. Just as a sprinter is tasked with running faster and faster, she was responsible for typing at higher speeds, day after day. One day, her boss gave her a raise. And what do you know, she typed faster, so fast that the consonants flew faster than the vowels from the keyboard to the page.

Her friend Tina was a Wall Street banker. She was a top executive. One year, she got paid a large bonus for what most people considered to be an average performance. Then the market crashed faster than the happiness levels of a man who has forgotten his Prozac. She was told that there would be no bonus that year. But her work didn’t falter. Surprisingly, that very same year she delivered a stellar performance.

- King Vikram, I said. Can you tell me why Nina’s performance improved with a bonus while that of Tina’s deteriorated? If you know the answer, speak it now, or your head will burst into a thousand pieces.

-Shut your mouth, foul beast, said King Vikram. And listen! Nina worked in a mechanical job. It is not surprising that her performance increased with a bonus. Because when you think about it, all she had to do was type.

On the other hand Tina’s job required imagination and creativity. In prior years, her mind was largely occupied with ways of procuring a large bonus, and devising strategies to ensure that she wouldn’t be left out. But when she was told that she would not be getting paid a bonus, her mind was freed up to do her job, and do it well.

-Well spoken O’ King, I said. With your usual perceptiveness, you have discerned why overpaid bankers caused the Wall Street crisis. But now that you have spoken, I’ll fly away.

I flew away.

From the speaker of a car, played the most beautiful Bollywood song by Kishore Kumar. I nodded my head in tune to the music till a hand shot out from underneath the branches and pulled me down.

-Foul vampire, King Vikram said just like so many of his ancestors. Today I will kill you!

-If you insist, I said graciously. But first let me tell you a story. At the end of the story, I will ask you a question. If you know the answer and speak it, I will escape and fly back to my tree. However if you know the answer and remain silent, then your head will burst into a thousand pieces, in which case you will find it difficult to shave.

-Humph! said King Vikram.

He cried over the death of a pawn and coveted the curves of a Queen

-Listen up O King, I said. In a small apartment in this neighborhood, there lived a father. He had a wife and a daughter. He also had a chess habit. Day in and day out his mind was obsessed with chess. He cried over the death of a pawn and coveted the curves of the queen.

-What a filthy mind you have, you Devil! said the King.

-In any event, I continued, the father was attentive to his daughter. He dropped her off at school, read stories to her and helped her with her homework. He did this year after year till the daughter grew up to be of a dateable age. When girls arrive at a dateable age, O’ King, they go on dates. Needless to say the father never approved of any of her choices. One day, he protested as the daughter as she was leaving the apartment with a boy.

-You don’t have a right to tell me anything, she said. You have not been a good father.

The father was shocked. He had paid so much attention to his daughter’s every need. He burst into tears as if he were not a man, but a bishop blocked by a pawn on a chessboard.

-Tell me O’ King I said. Why did the daughter accuse him of not being a good father? If you know the answer, speak it now, or your head will burst into a thousand pieces.

-Don’t tell me what to do vile beast, said King Vikram. Here’s the answer to your stupid question. The father had a chess addiction, and he knew it. He tried to make up for it by being dutiful towards his daughter. But caught up in the world of his addiction, he could never free up his mind sufficiently to shower her with love. When it came to his daughter, he was more like a robot and less like a human.

-Well said O’ King I said. I cackled and flew away to my tree. Yes, that’s right. I know I cackled for I remember feeling, if only for a moment, like a seagull.

King Vikram hauled me on to his back, his eyes red with bloody intent.

- O King! I said. You are mettlesome but your mettle is worthy of appreciation. I will now tell you a story. At the end of this story, I’ll ask you a question. If you know the answer and speak it, I’ll fly away. However, if you know the answer and remain silent, your head will burst into a thousand pieces, in which case you will find it impossible to comb your hair properly.

The King walked on silently, but I began my story.

-Listen up O’ King, I said. Not very long ago, there was an honest man in one of those small towns that make up so much of our large world.

Now, this man, whose name was Kapil, never told a lie. To give just one example, when his computer broke and he took it to the manufacturer store to get it fixed, he began his complaint by saying, It was my fault.

Kapil’s honesty was only matched by his diligence. He worked tirelessly throughout the day for he had to support his parents who were now retired.

One day he received a job offer from the city of San Francisco. With the offer letter was a photograph. In the most enticing hues, it displayed a blue pond with a pink necked flamingo. Of course, Kapil wanted to go. But like any dutiful son would, he first asked his parents.

His parents were racked with dismay. His mother thought just how much she would miss her son’s company in the evenings, while his father thought just how much he would miss the whiskey that his son brought home for him in the evenings.

It wasn't much of a gate, but one hell of a bridge

But they smiled outwardly when their son asked Should I go to San Francisco?

-There’s too much beauty there…and by beauty I mean crime, the mother said.

-It’s not much of a gate, said the father, showing him a photo of the Golden Gate bridge.

These were persuasive arguments. Kapil declined the job offer.

Now there worked in the same bank as Kapil a man by the name of Amir. Continued…

King Vikram wore a bristling look on his moustache. It was the look of a man determined to kill a vampire. My self-survival instincts kicked in. As soon as he carried me on to his back, I began to tell a story.

-Let me tell you a story O’ King, I began. At the end of the story, I will ask you a question. If you know the answer to the question and speak it to me, I will fly away. But beware! If you know the answer to the question and remain silent, your head will break into a thousand pieces.

She was at the age when Indian youth get a burning desire to travel to the very lands that their film stars once visited to sing, dance and experience the first pangs of love.

-Humph, the King said dismissively.

In the town of Bombay O’ King, I began anyway, there lived the daughter of a man. Not just any man, mind you. Her father was a powerful minister in the state’s legislature.

The girl turned seventeen, the age when Indian youth get a burning desire to travel to foreign lands — specifically the very lands that their film stars once visited to sing, dance and experience the first pangs of love.

She went to the passport office equipped with a form, and the correct application fee. Continued…

A fire engine blared down the street. King Vikram waited for the din to die down. He reached into the canopy of my tree and hauled me on to his back. He expressed an active interest in putting an end to the pestilence that was my very existence.

I too dispensed with small talk.

-Let me tell you a story, I said . At the end of the story, I will ask you a question. If you answer the question correctly, I will escape, and fly, fly, fly away. However, if you know the answer to the question and remain silent, then your head will burst into a thousand pieces and in such a state, you will find it difficult to look good in your family photographs.

In the early 1970's when disco was a figment of our collective imagination, there broke out a war between India and Pakistan

- In the early nineteen seventies O’ King, I began, when disco was just a shining figment of our collective imagination, there broke out a war between India and Pakistan.

As you well know, the worst affected in a war are the people that don’t have to watch it on TV — I refer to the people near the field of battle. One such person was an old man who lived in a village near the border between India and Pakistan. The man was renowned for being amicable towards the people of both countries, a true internationalist. But the first casualty of war is individuality. No sooner than the first bomb hit the ground, he ceased to be anything but a Pakistani, for the maps said that it was in Pakistan that his village lay. Continued…

The first part of the story can be read here. The Conclusion is presented below.

In Which A Man Wins The Love Of A Woman Through Deceit (Conclusion)

-You should not have told her about me, and how I used tired tricks to help you win her affection, his friend told Vijay.

-Nonsense, said Vijay. She doesn’t mind in the least. In fact she likes and trusts you. Why else would she give you an envelope to take to her aunty in America?

-Because she wants to get me arrested at the airport.

As Vijay stared incredulously, his friend opened the envelope and white grains of sand like those from an hourglass whose time has run out, poured on to the table.

-Surely…surely that’s talcum powder, said Vijay.

-Inhale it, said his friend. Vijay did so and felt strong and needlessly optimistic.

-I don’t know what to say, he said as the truth surged pleasantly within him.

-Don’t say anything, his friend said. Act. Else you stand the chance of losing her forever.

The exchanging of Facebook passwords is the ultimate sign of trust between two human beings

His friend asked Vijay to conduct a ceremony with his girlfriend, one that involved the ultimate exchange of trust between two human beings — the exchanging of Facebook passwords.
Continued…

A man in love doesn't pay heed to the simplest warnings

It was a nice evening. Even the bats were in a good mood. Of course, King Vikram had to spoil it all by walking up to my tree, hauling me on to his back and threatening to kill me.

I resorted to my usual routine.

-Listen up, O’ King, I said. I will tell you a story. At the end of the story, I will ask you a question. if you tell me the answer to the question, I will escape and fly away. But beware! If you know the answer to the question and remain silent, your head will burst into a thousand pieces.

-Proceed Foul Devil! King Vikram said rather rudely.

-Ok, here you go, I began gamely. Not very long ago in a town not very far away lived a boy named Vijay. One day Vijay saw a girl. As he gazed at her, the earth became fragrant with tulips and lilacs and such, and Vijay began driving on the left hand side of the road as though he were not in India, but in some other country.

When he nearly came under an approaching truck for the third day in a row, he knew that he was in love.

Vijay did what most young men in love do. He went to his friend and told him that without this girl, his life would be emptier than a church on Monday morning.
Continued…