This is the first of the gods know how many part series of posts I have long wanted to write about my favourite storybook heroes. Ironically, I start with an anti-hero.

There is no mistaking Doga for one of Raj Comics’ cleaner heroes. He doesn’t have the powers to avert natural disasters or tackle alien menaces. The human menace on the other hand, is just his element. He gets his hands dirty. He kills.

Early on in the demon-slaying career of Sri Rama, the prince of Ayodhya went to a swayamvara. He had to string a bow (allegedly Shiva’s) to win a princess’ hand in marriage. In his boyish enthusiasm, he overdid it and ended up snapping the divine instrument in two.

“Oops!” he said under his breath as all of Mithila cheered for him and Sita’s cheeks reddened.

Somewhere far away, the divine triumvirate of Shiva the destroyer, Vishnu the caretaker, and Brahma the creator were watching this live by means known only to them.

Remember the archetypal lone hero? Wields a sword and rides a horse. Saves lives, protects innocents, and beats evil-doers. Yes that’s the one. Well, he has my respect. Not just because he does what he does. But also because of the way he does it. He has good sense when it comes to choosing his accessories. I am talking about the horse and the sword.

Carpentry, by the looks of it, is in my blood. My father, and my grandfather before him, all devoted chunks of spare time to wood. I remember chisels and hammers lying around the house from as far as I can remember. And let’s not forget all the sawdust. For someone with my respiratory system (smoke and dust are kryptonite to me), that’s not the easiest thing to forget.

Every student knows the horror of the listless question that comes up early in the study of any subject. It is the call to define the subject. What is Biology? How would you define Journalism? What is Political Science? What the blazes is literature? And there are the ancillaries: Is Political Science a science or an art? Is travel literature literature too?

I am willing to bet your way of dealing with them was saner than mine. I crumpled, tongue-tied and lost for words. I watched helplessly as my chance at making a brilliant first impression flew out of the window (these questions usually come up during introductory classes). The teacher’s eyes glaze over and drift to another student (prig) slicing the air above his/her head with a raised arm.