Call it pseudonym, pen-name or even nom de plume. All of it refers to an assumed name under which a person writes or functions as an artiste. The practice of pseudonym is as old as literature itself. George Orwell, for instance, was the pen-name of a person originally called Eric Blair. Similarly, Mary Ann Evans wrote the pseudonym of George Eliot. Why do people use pen names? The reasons could be many:
ACT 1: 24th March, 2020AD, Wrestlerâ€™s Day Test Match.
The Indian cricket team led by Sunil Damle is playing their first test match against Australia led by Tricky Banging, It is more of a shouting match than a cricket match. Cricket is played only during the commercial breaks. But the soft mallet of Indians is no match for the Aussieâ€™s â€˜sledgeâ€™ hammer. Things come to a head when the Indian tweaker Narmohan Zing allegedly calls the Aussie player Mathew Desmonds an alligator. Though Zing denies the alligator allegation, he is fined $1 Million.
ACT2: 25th March, 2020 AD.
Kavita was famous , rather say notorious for her uncanny behaviours . She was almost a philosopher and asked strange questions in the middle of a conversation . First we all took her too seriously and when she did so it hurt us . But later on we took her interventions and strange obsevations in good humour , and gradually she became our regular dose of humour .
â€˜A fool and his money are soon partedâ€™- so goes an old adage. In this drama of fool-parting-with-his-money, there are two protagonists: A con-artist and a gullible victim or the bakra. The modus operandi of the con-man has remained unchanged for centuries; only the tools of the con-game have changed.
â€˜HORN—OK—PLEASEâ€™. Does it ring a bell? Well, most of us in India have seen these words on the rear of trucks. Why do the truck owners write the phrase? Because others do. And others do because their fathers and fore-fathers did the same. No one paused to think of something new. They just copied. No questions asked. As in the case of the â€˜roaming calf.â€™
One of my worst foibles is my inability to recognise faces. Or the failure to connect a familiar face to its identity. And this shortcoming in my persona manifests in two forms- misrecognition and non-recognition. While the former often landed me in a mess, the latter earned me the title of a pompous ass. Let me explain the â€˜howsâ€™ and â€˜whysâ€™ of it all:
Non-recognition Syndrome: It is not uncommon to see an acquaintance of mine raise his hand to greet me and, having seen no glint of recognition in my eyes, pretend that he was just driving away a mosquito to save his face. And my truant debtors brazenly walk past me secure in the knowledge that I canâ€™t recognise them.
Many of you must have experienced this: You stand at the bus stop awaiting a certain bus. You crane your neck each time a bus comes, to see if that is the one you want. It isn’t.This goes on till you feel that everyone around you is catching the bus. Except you, of coursre. How unfair!
Or you remember about a newspaper article of last week which you wanted to clip and save but forgot to. You search for the back issue in the stack. You find every other issue except the one you are looking for.
These are the happenings that make you wonder if an unknown hand is conspiring agaunst you. This feeling grows stronger when your weekly forecast of winning a lottery turns out a dud, while one predicting ill-health turns out true with a ‘Double Pnuemonia’