Malgudi Days

I am addicted to this habit of beginning a thing with a bang, and then not being able to give time to it, or wanting to get rid of it as early as possible. But this should not hamper my comeback, so let me decide to be more punctual in blogging this time. To begin with a book that I am reading these days, (actually for a long time, but have not been able to complete - one more proof of my laziness) - Swami and Friends by R K Narayan. I found this particular portion of the book quite amusing.

Let me tell the context first (as an obedient student of Hermeneutics). Swami and few of his classmates did not attend the school for a day. The next day, they are asked to explain the reasons for their absence. And so we have a reply from one of the students:

"The fifth [student] said that his grandmother died suddenly just as he was starting for the school. The Head Master asked him if he could bring a letter from his father. No. He had no father. Then, who was his guardian? His grandmother. But the grandmother was dead, was she not? No. It was another grandmother. The Head master asked how many grandmothers a person could have. No answer. Could he bring a letter from his neighbours? No. he could not. None of his neighbours could read or write, because he lived in the more illiterate parts of Ellaman Street. Then the Head master offered to send a teacher to this illiterate locality to ascertain from the boy's neighbours if the deaht of the grandmother was a fact. A pause, some perspiration, and then the answer thatthe neighbours could not possibly know anything about it, since the grandmother died in the village. The Head Master hit him on the knuckles with his cane..." (p.104).

Remember your school-days?