The trouble with Harry.

Not Hitchcock’s second favourite film out of his own ouvre, the black macabre eponymous comedy (a capital T in ‘trouble’, though) about the corpse that wouldn’t stay put in one grave. Harry as in ‘Tom, Dick and Harry’, meaning you, me and whoever. The trouble is, we live in linear, sequential, serial Time. Unlike in the digital realm, you cannot undo. http://popgoestheslop.blogspot.com/2006/06/undo-way-to-go.html. Or, retrieve the past to amend and relive it. Then why do we have alumni meets? Are we just aping the West? From what I can gather, these occasions are looked upon even there more as opportunities to show off how better off you are and how much better you have fared than all the rest of the lousy losers? It’s no problem for a guy like me blessed with an easily and swiftly erasable memory. And, no envy. I’ve listened to the heart-rending confessions of battled-scarred veterans just back from one of these journeys down the memory lane. Full of self-pity, regret, jealousy, a sense of failure. If you cannot handle the aftermath, why accept the challenge in the first place? Because someone dared you? Avoid. Run. Duck. No pain is gain too. Less is more, hombre.

A walk into my past.

There’s a charming piece of Mumbai’s ‘East Indian’ past within walking distance of where I live. Stroll in there and you’re transported into a Goanesque village. Well, almost. It wouldn’t be true were I to claim that the place is steeped in the past. It isn’t anymore. And, yet there are enough relics around to remind one of the good old days. Every time I get a chance, I walk through the wondrous labyrinth from my past called Khotachi Wadi and come out at the other end feeling like a new man. You can sample a bit of the wonder of the place in In Some Spaces in Time. outlookindia.com.