Irregular ranting by an Irrelevant thinker

I started this book ( ISBN: 1853262412 ) on 28 February 2012. It ended on 29 march 2013, 0300 a.m. 1 year and 1 month to be exact. In the hundred gems of stories, I came across a multitude of colors of humanity, the range of characters, from each extremes, painting the tales a man tried to pen down sitting in a prison cell. I could not stop myself from admiring each and every piece of this anthology. The first and the last being the Hottest Favorite. One simply can not escape the illusion O. Henry created with his characters and plots. Playing with words and phrases as a street magician plays with smoke and mirrors. Pulling tricks of hands from his shirt sleeves, enchanting his audience each single time. And the way the stories are told- the myriad of dialects and accents, the reservoir of his wits and wisdom never running dry in the middle of any-one. Each piece with a definite theme, similar to others, but so profoundly strong, that each one could...

Chandi ki thaali “ Ae Bhopya, makdi bol, makdi” “Makdi”, “nai, nai Mekdi” , “Ma-e-k-di”, “May-k-di” Everyone laughed, I started laughing too. Jagggu smacked me on the head, ”saale, tu nahin sikhega”                   Jaggu was the tallest of us all, and so enjoyed smacking us whenever he got the chance, as he was also wiser than us all, he got his chance so often.                  “Ae Jaggu, ek bar fir se sikhaa na!” I pleaded, Jaggu repeated, in his perfect voice, that perfect accent I’ve heard so often. The strange name associated with this strange place. How funny it sounded! But people around here spoke it so casually, like any commonplace name. I repeated it again,”may-k-di” and giggled inwardly.                 It was a ve...