Kuzhali Manickavel was born in Winnipeg and currently lives in Bangalore. She used to blog at thirdworldghettovampire.blogspot.com.

Conversations Regarding the Fatalistic Outlook of the Common Man by Kuzhali Manickavel

Conversations Regarding the Fatalistic Outlook of the Common Man is a collection of 40 dialogues that melds the classical philosophical tradition of Plato and Socrates with the anarchic freedom of a mid-1990s chat room, and tops it all off with a dash of Senthil-Goundamani comedy. Not really, but anyway.

In this book Kuzhali Manickavel interviews children on the subject of ghosts, shoeracks, and gender-neutral pronouns. She speaks to adults about Hindi imposition, hipster racism, and iskisk deospray. She chats with Niira Radia about banana cabinets. She pesters all and sundry about Bollywood movie tropes and babies raining from the sky. Puzzles are posed, hypocrisies exposed, awesome bargaining strategies disclosed. Come listen.

There are conversations about bad words and ice creams and dead insects, but the conversations that really hit it out of the park for me are the ones that deal with gender identity.

 

REVIEWS

  • "bloody good if you have a taste for the absurd"

    – Priyadarshini Gauri, Purple Pencil Project
 

BOOK PREVIEW

Excerpt

Let's Make Fun of Other People's English!!!

K: So I ran into an old lecturer from college—

S: Oh I love it when people meet their old lecturers! Did she hug you and cry? Did you both have slow-motion college flashback? Was it like the Raymond's ads?

K: Now that you mention it, I think she did want to cry a little.

S: Because she remembered you and was overcome by golden memories from the evergreen pastures of her golden memories?

K: No, because I actually ran into her. As in I accidentally knocked her down some stairs and she may have concussion and stuff.

S: Oh nice!

K: But I totally remembered her! I was like 'Ma'am, you remember me?' and she was like 'Why should I remember you? Who said I should remember your face?'

S: It's a valid question bro.

K: I remember her because every time she came into class, she would say 'Come on girls, open the windows! Let the air force come in.'

S: That is amazing.

K: And I would always think, wouldn't that be the best thing? If you opened the windows and these fabulous Air Force men just started leaping gracefully into the room? Sometimes I would picture the Air Force men wearing little sailor outfits and jumping through the windows while that song Chandralekha from Thiruda Thiruda played in the background.

S: I can totally see that happening.

K: It was the best class ever. I can't remember what class it was exactly but it was the best.

S: I had a teacher who would tell us to stop oscillating in the hallways. We never saw her, we just heard her voice. We'd be standing there and suddenly this voice would say 'Girls! Why you are oscillating in the hallways?' I mean how do you even answer a question like that? 'No ma'am, we're not oscillating ma'am'? 'Sorry ma'am, we'll not oscillate again ma'am'?

K: Did I ever tell you about my teacher who would say 'I say you get out!' even when we were outside?

S: So confusing.

K: It really was. Because we wouldn't know where to go, you know? How do you 'get out' when you're already outside?

S: It's a loaded philosophical metaphor.

K: I remember this one girl had a theory that maybe we were supposed to go back inside and then go outside again but we could never test this.

S: Why not?

K: Because this teacher didn't actually want us to go anywhere, she just liked saying 'I say you get out!' So if we tried to move, she'd get even angrier and say 'Where are you going? You are going for a walk? You think this is fish market?' And I'd be like, why would anyone go for a walk in a fish market?

S: OK I have to go. I just remembered I had something on the stove and then I came to talk to you and now my kitchen is probably on fire.

K: Open those windows I say! Let the Air Force come in!