The Gift of the Magi

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Today has been one of those handful of days I didn't stir out of home in Hyderabad.

Generally, I take at least a hundred meters walk for a cup of Tea to the eatery: "Top-Inn Hotel".

This name always reminds me of a "Drop-Inn" Eatery at Gole Bazaar which folded up in a couple of years; but while it was there the fare was apparently good: mostly NV: various paranthas; Mughalai, egg, chicken etc. Since I never liked the NV stuff, I was a spectator quark, drinking my Tea while my friends had their fill.

Not that I was too unwell today; yesterday, when it was worse, I walked uphill to post some Air Mail packets and DTDC couriers. Just that there was no incentive to stir fom bed: I happened to pick up an RKN thing and got absorbed.

Its title is: "A Story-Teller's World".

It is a compilation of 'pieces' many of which I read earlier; still.

The most delicious compilation of his 'pieces' remains: "Next Sunday". They are period pieces: the early 1950's under Nehru's Independent India, its birth-pangs and the funny side of it. Also my boyhood days at what everyone says was my Malgudi.

The opening page of today's book has this inscription: "from Kasturi Basu", 2nd February, '94.

That is Dola, DB's daughter. She must have been in her MA (English) at JU then.

It was a funny thing: Dola's mom holds an MA (English) from the same Univ, maybe.

DB used to claim that he was 'writing' her 'essays' as preparation for her exams: it so happened that he married her while she was a student; and as you know, marriage is a big diversion for a woman.

"Vivaham vidya nashanam; santanam sarvanashanam"

But when Dola entered her High School, she flatly refused to 'prepare' for JEE, a wise decision supported by her parents.

Her first love was English.

Somehow, by hook or crook I convinced DB that I know a little of this language; nothing like SDM's: his mastery of English was such that he could easily have been a professional writer if math wasn't his first love.

I learned how to write precise and concise scientific prose from SDM. I didn't learn much of his math though; that remains contraband in my family.

So, DB and his Mrs used to feed me at their place and after dinner, Dola used to come to me for a couple of questions in her English text.

And I used to gul as usual.

One thing I recall was that there was this: 'The Gift of the Magi' story by O Henry.

I somehow felt that the last para appeared like an afterthought. The short story would have been nice if it ended without its rather overt end-pontification.

I said so.

The next day, Dola went to the Tech Market book store and bought a compilation of O Henry's in which an earlier version left out the last para, with the title: "Gifts of Magi".

I guess there is some truth in the popular saying that excessive revision, particularly after many years, is better avoided.

Dola holds a prestigious Diploma in Journalism from The Hindu @ Madras.

It turns out that the building that houses this in the Mount Road (now Anna Salai) is called Kasturi Buildings, sort of Dola's namesake.

Legend has it that some irate journalist who was rejected by the original 'Kasturi' wrote a complaint to the Ministry that The Hindu employs 90% of its staff picked up from Tamilain Brahmins.

When the complaint was passed on to Kasturi, he replied: "There appears to be some mistake. ALL our employees are Tamilian Brahmins".



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