I have no memory at all - Stendhal.

I came across this completely by chance. It makes mention of a friend with whom correspondence has been scarce for the past four years. We were quizzards - it is a term I seldom hear used outside the Indian quizzing circuit - and first met as fellow illegals in a district quiz. Perhaps I shall devote an entry to the mythical etymology of quizzing and quizzes some day but it is New Year's tomorrow and one finds oneself musing about the past and becoming rather silly about it all. One wishes for an exiled fraternity like the one found in Joseph O'Neill's "Netherland." It is, by the way, one of the finer books of 2008. The Oxford Quizzing Society quizzes provided solace for a year. My only complaint was its complete colonization by the University Challenge. Understandable all the same. Might I also be permitted to show off a little by saying that I was part of the winning team at one of the University quizzes. My contribution to the triumph is, as they say, another story.

"Netherland" inevitably reminds of Ramachandra Guha's "Corner of a Foreign Field" which is a lovely book on the evolution of cricket in India. I have never been fond of cricket; preferring instead the slightly more spirited game of football. One day I too shall contribute to the otiose debate about the superiority of one game over the other. For now allow me to dwell on Guha's book. The narrative of the civilized viciousness of colonial cricketing was so absorbing that I found myself quite moved by the sight of my brother's school mates running around in their cricket whites practising for the Edinburgh Cup so precious to the two competing schools. It is our little town's Ashes. "Corner..." is what a historical account of a sport ought to be. It does no good to the sport when all we have in terms of literature these days is self indulgent autobiographies of players who should really should be reminded of Andres Escobar every one in a while.
I am of course, merely, jesting.

A blog can hardly be expected to carry one's best work so in the spirit of general Christmas conviviality here's a little raillery. My Professor of poetry would ask why, very earnestly in his typed comments on my essays which is precisely why I refuse to explicate any further. Petty subversions, if you must.

Anywhichway let us all laugh at Aiba-kun and be merry on Christmas.





I hope everyone is as happy as Aiba-kun and I. Yes, I am very very happhee.