Atonement

His grand parents fondly named him Sivaramakrishna, practical folks - they didn't want to take any chances. If one of the gods failed him, the other two could pitch in :) Aside - Think kids ought to have a say in their names, c'mon you don't want to go through life with a moniker like Valmiki (I have a friend by that name and he has a tough time living upto his namesake's reputation). Which reminds me, bro has vowed to name his son Olonga. Sigh, insanity surely is hereditary. Coming back to the main thread, the suffix Ramakrishna dropped out of his name somewhere along the way, and Siva morphed into Shiv. I call him SRK, love TLAs :)

He's kinda my partner in crime - expect no confessions on a public domain :) (anything I say can and will be used against me) Our fav. pass-time is playing with remote controlled cars and looking longingly at high rises - I have visions of all the managers I ever interacted with, plunging down at varying speeds, depending on the number of calls I attended during the day; and Shiv dreams of his weird jetix superheroes jumping off rooftops and saving the world. Thankfully, the kid's stunts are limited to jumping off the refrigerator wearing a superman mask and a cape, and discovering that gravity rules as he goes tumbling down, but that doesn't deter him, he climbs back and repeats the exercise. That's the best way to learn the laws of physics, me thinks.

And when he's not breaking his limbs, he's plonked in front of my PC - my is a misnomer, I own it, Shiv rents it. I am allowed half an hour of browsing per day as per an unstated deal - the duration varies, depending on the imp's mood, and the size of the dairymilk I get him. Scoundrel! There have been days when he's played pacman for 4 straight hours, now he's graduated to Battlefield Mars or some such jazz. Its a daily ritual - he guns down somebody, does a small war dance around the room and progresses to the next level. My poor mom is convinced she's sheltering a future terrorist, the kid has no such grandoise plans, his Geography teacher is the only living person he wants to annihilate for now.

Had been on short term trip to UK recently, lugged back 10 kg worth of chocolates. No kidding, am a confirmed chocoholic (if there's such a word). Cadburys would do well to appoint me as a brand ambassador - one per day and 2 on Sundays is par for the course. Shiv shares my passion for chocs, so Sunday morn found us sprawled in front of the idiot box, watching Jetix, with wrappers flying all over the place. His mom was clearing up the place and inspected a wrapper idly. Heard a muted oath followed by a shreik - Shiv, did u eat this? The li'l imp recognized the tone which signalled danger and promptly pointed a finger at me. Err, auntie, chill, we only had about 10 between the two of us, honest, he won't fall ill. By now, his dad and grandpa had come running out, hearing the commotion. Bala, what's the matter. Our Shiv, our poor Shiv, she mumbles.

Now wait - I am confused. Where's this leading to? All we did was eat a few extra chocolates? But that I have done something not quite right is evident from Shiv's mom's reaction, I'll be dashed if I know what it is. Uncle looks confused, I am maha confused, Shiv is the only person lapping up all the attention. Auntie, what? I mean, the suspense is killing. She offers the wrapper to me - Oh hell, the chocs were the kind laced with rum and whisky. Shiv is a Tam Brahm, and his family are the ultra conservative kind. Hell, hell, hell! Damn, auntie didn't know, honest, but 3 pairs are eyes are burning through me, am summarily dismissed. Auntie invokes her fav. dieties and promises to feed a Brahmin, if her kid is absolved of his sins.

Feel terrible, but the dark deed's done. Meet Shiv's dad and grandpa in the evening - Uncle, it was a mistake, anything I can do to make auntie feel better. The sandbox is turning, its thatha who comes up with an idea - Rema, Bala is looking for a tuition teacher for Shiv, his exams are round the corner and he's flunked in Geography. You are the only person he listens to, so why don't u teach him. Sacrilege - teach Shiv, he's driven 3 teachers insane with his antics, only a fool would volunteer. There's a 2-minute silence, the kind u maintain for a dear departed - grandpa looks imploringly, uncle's smiling - he knows my guilt will not let me refuse. Oh, alright, but only till the exams. And even as I speak, I know I am screwed.

And so, its come to pass. Bright sunny Sunday morning, blue cloudless sky, the squirrel is back to his daredevil acts on the cable wire, in short, the 'feels good to be alive kinda' day. And me cooped indoors poring over a Geography school book, wondering if learning by rote the names of plateaus in Maharashtra would help him in life. Shiva in the meantime, has nuked another guy and is onto his nth war dance. Feeling homicidal :(

RIP - DFW

My first thought was Why? But I think, if you have read DFW, you know the answer.
To quote
The depressed person was in terrible and unceasing emotional pain, and the impossibility of sharing or articulating this pain was itself a component of the pain and a contributing factor to its essential horror.
Think of the old cliche about the mind being an excellent servant but a terrible master. This, like many cliches, so lame and unexciting on the surface, actually expresses a great and terrible truth. It is not the least bit coincidental that adults who commit suicide with firearms almost always shoot themselves in: the head. They shoot the terrible master
Harper's have collated his essays on http://www.harpers.org/archive/2008/09/hbc-90003557. Thanks to http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/g/a/2008/09/17/notes091708.DTL&feed=rss.mmorford