Of course I was never serious! What was there to be serious about? Contemporaries solving mathematical conundrums? What was the resistance of the wire used in your geyser? (I don't know, I hate my geyser.) But you understand my problem- I was faced with an insurmountable problem: fiction. I could not distinguish between fiction and fact. This was painful, I was always looking for something reconciliatory, someone soothing who would whisper sotto voce to me; it's alright. And nobody did, only I thought they did. And then my mother used to say that Darling, your poems are beautiful, but really she doesn't get poems, it must be reading all that Sanskrit. Only today she said reading Kalidasa's Sakuntala is like listening to a waterfall. Now that perhaps is reconciliation.
And of course I have never been serious! Otherwise, would I sit here, patiently counting the hours and minutes but never the seconds, waiting for another joke, a better joke, if only I knew how to laugh. But one tends to forget how to laugh as one grows older, it's something I learnt from Thakurma- you completely forget to laugh until you're 60, and if you're lucky-you learn again. And to her laughter and her capacity to make everyone laugh, I owe a great deal. Her laughter is like champagne being swished in a goblet- effervescent, poetic, and giddy. When I hear her laugh, my heart skips a beat, there's a tangy pang, and I believe you connoisseurs call it love.
And I hope I am never serious, and that I always somehow speak to myself- and if you think I'm crazy and lazy and all those things I am, remember this: I do not provide a defense or an apologia. Know only this much; to love is also to imagine, to worship is only to construct. And thus, I too am your fiction, as much as you are mine.