Before I delve into today’s subject matter, which is yet to be determined as the decision-making committee is out of town, I feel compelled to offer my thoughts on The Hindu Litfest 2024. I found myself participating, albeit somewhat inadvertently, in this event just two weeks prior.
I must first clarify that the invitation was not of my own seeking. Nonetheless, I must commend the organizers for the festival was a marvel of organization and execution. Here, I could claim I was nudged to praise the Litfest – but truly, could you ever be sure of that? On a personal level, it was akin to a triumphal procession; I could well have been Julius Caesar, save for the fact me and my battlefield was a stage, and my legionaries were an audience, and… well, there was also the small matter of a receding hairline.
Recognition did come my way at least twice, though one of these was our Uber driver who may or may not hold a grudge over an alleged underpayment. But who am I to judge? Today’s voracious reader might just as well be tomorrow’s Uber driver, after all.
I now turn to the event from January, where I sat on an esteemed panel. Our topic was one of tantilizing promise, yet memory fails me – it could have wrestled with either “How to captivate an audience?” or perhaps “How to justify the price hike from hardcover to paperback?” The details evade me as my attention was, rather shamefully, elsewhere at the time.
Here’s what remains etched in my mind: our onstage assembly included the radiant Anu Menon, the crowd-pleaser Kanan Gill, and the moderator Suresh Balakrishnan. They held an overwhelming advantage over me, each having delved into at least one good book – and rumor has it Suresh may have conquered two. This daunting intellectual deficit somehow did not defeat me; I employed tactics reminiscing those of maintaining matrimony: strategic silence punctuated by periodic apologies.
Let’s rekindle the unforgeable highlights of the Litfest – for everything has been inscribed in the annals of YouTube, where honesty is undebatable.
The session commenced with Kanan abruptly testing the laws of physics by toppling from his chair, the cause of which even he could not ascertain. Initial blames pointed towards medications and a brazen affront to Newton, but soon enough, it was the chair that bore the full weight of our accusations. Anu and Kanan dispatched questions with disconcerting ease, ranging from a comparative analysis of literary titans Victor Hugo, Leo Tolstoy, and Saadat Hasan Manto to the correct spelling of ‘Ayodhya.’
As the proceedings drew to a close, a wave of emotion swept the stage. Anu and Suresh shared a hug, swept up by the love emanating from the audience, while Kanan’s embrace was perhaps a search for solace from his excruciating back pain – pain so acute that even his dog walks were compromised. A correction is due here: it is not his dog-walking that suffers, but walking in general. The poor canine must now take himself for walks.
Alas, this very tribute to The Hindu Litfest 2024 leaves me bereft of time to explore another topic. This may be a source of relief to some, yet it is another throb in the chronic ache of my professional pursuits. Until we reconvene at The Hindu Litfest 2025, shall we? ‘Meendum sandhippom,’ as I acquaint myself with Tamil weekends dedicated to the pursuit of part-time communism.
