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Able was I

Fiction “Able was I ere I saw Elba.”   Santosh muttered to himself as the petrol meter whirred on like a frenzied spinning top.   “What?” Marina asked.   “What?” Santosh looked at her puzzled as he handed over a blushing pink ₹2000 note to the petrol man. “You quoted Napoleon’s weakness.” “Oh, that.”   Their car moved out into the rain that beat a rhythm of pain on the roof and the windshield.   “When a cloud is unable to hold the pain anymore, it sheds the pain,” Santosh said.   “The cloud is unlike human beings.   It cannot get used to pain.   It has to release the pain.” “Able was I ere I saw Elba,” Marina decided to ignore the rain’s pain.   “Was Napoleon interested in palindromes?” “The palindrome is in English,” said Santosh.   “Why would Napoleon use English, the language of his enemies?   At any rate, was it Elba that disabled him?” “Now that you ask it,” reflected Marina, “he had emerged as a successful leader on Elba.” “Light cannot

The commonplaceness of religious terror

When I was young (and proportionately foolish), I decided to take a phone connection.   Those were the days of landline phones monopolised by the government through the telecom.   You apply for a connection and wait for ages to get it.   In the meanwhile you have to bribe at least half a dozen people in the telecom department.   My landlady came to know about my adventure and said unequivocally, “You can’t take a phone connection here.”   By ‘here’ she meant my rented house of which she was the owner. “Why?” I wondered aloud. “The cable will block the sunshine in the yard.” She walked away without saying another word and without daring to look into my eyes.   I knew something was wrong somewhere.   A little later I bought a bike, a sleek Yamaha 100cc, the most popular bike in Shillong in those days.   I parked it outside my rented house in the remotest corner where it would hardly be noticed by anyone, not even by the sun. “You can’t park your bike in this comp