There is a story about a boy whose parents took him to the sage-poet Thiruvalluvar because he had too much of a weakness for sweets. They requested the sage to tell the boy not to eat so much sweetmeat. Thiruvalluvar sent the family away asking them to return in a fortnight.

When they did come back, the saint explained to the boy why he should ease up on the sweets and why too much sugar will turn out bad. The boy got the point. The parents didn’t. Why hadn’t he said the same thing the last time they were here?

One seems so focused on what he wants from the future that he forgets to be thankful to the past for allowing him the life he has had. True, there always seem to be people for whom nothing is ever good enough. But there is little we can do about them.

There have been several little joys that stick to my memory to this day and will very probably go to my funeral with me. Regardless of grander changes later in my life, these little shifts in my growth were never overshadowed. I thought I would share some of them with you, on this first day of 2008.

You know the type. The sort that thinks girls bring rape upon themselves by dressing ‘inappropriately’. Who think sex education in schools is a bad idea and will only encourage more promiscuous behaviour. Who think moral policing is all that is keeping this country from going to the dogs. Etcetera.

A close friend of mine fits the description. Let’s call him Pratap (since that is his name). We agreed to disagree a long time ago. Yet, certain days find us at each other’s throats, throwing opinions and ideas at each other and dodging cruel blows to our egos.

Detachment is an interesting concept. Many advocate it. Many others doubt the possibility of its execution. How can one live in a world, love it, and yet not be attached to it?

I saw the Transformers movie yesterday night again (for the seventh time), and was struck by yet another midnightly insight. What is it exactly that differentiates a Transformer from a human being?

I know they are actually giant alien robots who can turn themselves into machines of their choice and there really is no comparison here. But then again, they feel pain and anger just like we do. Also they seem to like certain things about us.

I have always wondered what people have against short answers.

In school, most of my classmates had problems squeezing ideas into a given limit of 200 words. When it was not about ideas and sheer data was what needed accommodation, they struggled with the squeeze again. There is only so much you can do to elucidate chapters of world history without giving in to the seductive bulk of it.

Even in college, I found word limits greeted with expressions of frustration and annoyance. For many people, being brief and simple actually requires more of an effort than being elaborate does.

Some people think creativity is something innate. Others believe it can be honed and sharpened. I believe it is a matter of willingness. One gets ideas when one is open to them.

Towards the end of my time in college, I began working on a story about an alien orphan on a backward and under-developed planet. My hero discovers that he is the last of a race of super-psychics who ruled the galaxy long ago. The story stayed with me for a month or so. I spared little effort in capturing it in its awesome brilliance, blaming my tight college schedule and my general inability to write long stories due to impatience. To my relief, it eventually left me.