Three things I’ve learned while writing about a loved one

I would have liked to have known my father when he was alive the way I’m getting to know him now, six years after he passed away.

When I set out to write his life story in late 2013, I started without doing any research and the stories just flowed out of me and onto the page. They were stories I recall Dad telling me throughout my childhood and again over the years since.

The plan for the book has since morphed from a daughter’s recollections of her father’s stories, to a work of creative non-fiction about aspects of his life.

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To my son who won’t speak to me — Phil Canon

You don’t imagine your own death, soil feeding its slow germination, sun like a cold kiss; I want you to know this in the windowless room of your twenties admitting only friends, effervescent fizz of cause and inconsequence: my bones will be marrowless, fingers, stalks of grasses, not tomorrow, but soon enough, […]

via To my son who won’t speak to me — Phil Canon

Uncle and the Leopard-1

Uncle and the Leopard-1
As I have promised my readers in a prior note of this sort, I was to expound on my second uncle and his encounter with a panther when he was away from his relatives and living in woods. Some of you perusers may recall the way that he as a single guy, had a personal illicit relationship with a wedded lady and was the cardinal accused in a murder mystery.The story as I got record from different sources, portrays that lately the spouse of that woman was killed and my uncle was the prime suspect. The previously mentioned lady,it is told, had numerous lovers, some even secret ones. This saga was frequently described in our family hovers, as an exercise to the young fellows of the new generation, who begin indicating salacious propensities and how a few cases could lead to such appalling coup de grace. I am not specially fond of such sorts of over chary delineations of old folks, but the last word to such stories is the maleurous certainty that human destiny can see movements to any directions, good or awful. Briefly, the outline of such things is hidden to us, human beings.
Here is my uncle’s fable- As I have described in the earlier post, he could get away from a mischancy end, partly in light of the fact that he was innocent and halfway on the grounds that he was fortunate and mostly in light of the fact that he could get the best legal advisor of his time . So the fate favoured him generously and he lived for around sixty or so years on this planet after that occurrence, generally joyfully. However, he totally cut himself off the adventurous way of life of his youth and furthermore the young allies of bold nature, the sort of whom who had a great deal of vitality and time and cash yet little direction throughout everyday life. Yes, you can tell that my uncle turned into a new man. In spite of the fact that he didn’t wed any lady(the genuine reasons, I don’t know), and carried on an unhitched male’s life, he kept a ton of good companions and was the best company for anyone who acknowledged him as a friend. In his life, though he cleared out his reckless life, he did not particularly pursue a solitary vocation like his companions did, but had different occupations and would likewise take long getaways when he left an occupation and took up another. Our elderly individuals so specifically cautioned us when we were growing up that one ought not to copy him in the event that one needs to have a fruitful existence. This I feel now, as a notice about his other tendencies, one such his addiction to alcoholic beverages. In our family gatherings, two personages were spotted as wrong models, and one was this uncle. The other one, you may perhaps be curious to know-This is none other than my father in law, for I wedded a young lady from my mom’s family, a far-off kinfolk, and my dad in law was known to me even when I was a boy. He was, in reality, the most terrible of the parcel ,the extent that drinking is concerned. For he would never stop his dependence on bottles even towards the finish of his life, even after he experienced a noteworthy heart bypass and the specialists cautioned him not to take any alcohol after that. In any case, he would never stop his old propensities and met with an unseely end. Still,about the nature of these two characters, they were the most joyful individuals from the whole family 😗
Particularly my dad in law, an extremely affable companion, like a little kid he was, declining to grow up, though he had his furious and calamitous moments or sometimes, illogically fractional temperaments. One fine nature of him is that however he is a long way from a virtuoso, he could pick up remarkable individuals from any gathering, effortlessly and keep up their kinship for long. A large number of these exceptional  mortals were likewise bizarre boozers too and his table at homestead was thronged by these freewheeling marvels and the principal occupation of my mother in law was cooking delicious lamb and chicken culinaries for these mavericks.
However, our main story is something else. How my uncle met a panther in the timberland and got away from great divide. This is a genuine story and is described by my uncle himself when he was staying with us. For my mother was particularly close to this uncle in light of the fact that after her dad’s passing, this uncle gave a portion of the charges for my mom’s later education, though she got a position soon and left her people. So this uncle remained with us for many long years, till my mom’s superannuation. So in one of the nights when we were strolling back home, after a theatre show in the town, my uncle narrated this story….
.(To be continued).
-From a Long Fiction in Making.


C’était le jour où je suis arrivé de la place de la ville avec quelques feuilles de papier et j’avais récemment écrit quelque chose sur Poe que je devais montrer au surintendant. C’était une perspective de l’univers de Poe et de Dupin et du genre de criminologues que Poe avait créés, le présage de la fiction ultérieure. Il y avait un magasin de vélos près de la place et j’avais pour habitude de me procurer de nombreux exemplaires des travaux de recherche importants pour mes camarades de classe, car mon professeur s’intéressait beaucoup à ces sujets et me permettait de récupérer l’argent dépensé auprès du département. Dans cet article, j’avais essayé de parler brièvement des impacts de l’écrivain qui paraissaient immenses, connus ou obscurs.

Mon professeur était expressément intéressé et il a savouré certains aspects de Poe, si ce n’est tout, et nous avons eu «Raven» et «The Cask of Amontillado» pour des recherches minutieuses. Et mon professeur a sûrement eu des appréciations remarquables sur un tel sujet. Cependant, il détestait Poe en tant que poète (je ne sais pas d’où il a eu cette idée et il suivait la ligne de certains critiques) mais plutôt le virtuose qu’il a glorifié à plusieurs reprises dans la classe et il était de sa compétence de transmettre à la classe une quelques bons textes de la bibliothèque et lire des extraits des vrais faussaires sur ces lignes et transmettre en outre ses propres remarques sur ces sujets. Nous avons donc eu d’excellentes lectures sur Emerson, Thoreau et Faulkner et la classe a été remarquablement vigoureuse, puisqu’il a également saisi le français. Cependant, il ne montra aucune de ses caractéristiques et sourit comme un gamin et il me préféra surtout dans le sentiment de ce mot. En dépit du fait que je n’étais pas un chercheur extraordinairement juste pour me distinguer suffisamment, il m’aimait et connaissait en outre quelques personnages du groupe d’amitié de mon père et c’était une affaire joviale d’aller en classe.

Il y avait beaucoup de jeunes filles dans la classe, en effet, la part du lion se trouvait être ces jeunes filles. De plus, mon compagnon le plus proche était Sebastian Antony, qui avait son domicile près des familles de ma mère et nous avons eu quelques échanges de base, sociaux et monétaires, car j’avais le plus besoin d’argent, étant un pauvre gestionnaire de fortune, à fois, et à cause de cela, combien je me suis attaqué plus tard. Et ce Sebastian Antony était également un piètre gestionnaire en matière d’argent, et après la première semaine d’allocation, il fera faillite comme moi, mais ce collègue avait des liens énormes et pouvait arranger de l’argent en bref, à condition qu’il soit payé à l’avance. une date particulière à l’avenir. C’est ce que nous avons fait, car j’avais aussi mes relations et ma plus grande connexion était mon père lui-même, qui était très discipliné en matière d’argent et qui était une aubaine pour ses partenaires en affaires. Mais j’ai toujours honte de lui demander fréquemment de perdre l’estime devant lui, car il mentionnera cet événement à la table du dîner et je perdrai davantage de respect devant les autres membres de la famille. À la maison, notre table à manger était composée de ma mère, de mon père, de moi-même, de ma sœur aînée et de mon beau-frère qui n’avait pas de scrupule, mais qui agissait comme s’il était la personne la plus parfaite sur terre. C’était un gars intelligent et il savait comment faire tourner la roue de la vie du temps et du travail des autres.

Une fois, il a déposé à mon insu une bouteille vide de liqueur dure dans le grenier de ma chambre à coucher. Lorsque les domestiques ont nettoyé la place, ils ont découvert la bouteille d’alcool vide et l’ont donnée à ma mère. J’étais alors absent et ma mère pensait que j’avais bu l’alcool fort et laissé la bouteille vide dans le grenier, où les gens allaient rarement. Ma mère a raconté cela à mon père et tous les deux ont cru que j’étais l’auteur de l’infraction et peut-être un lâche hypocrite. Mais malheureusement, les deux ne m’ont pas parlé de cet incident et je ne l’ai appris que beaucoup plus tard après le décès de ma mère lors d’une conversation informelle avec le père, lorsque les sujets ont changé et que le dialogue s’est déplacé vers cet épisode particulier. Comme je me sentais pénible alors, pensant que ma mère avait une fausse impression de moi comme un ivrogne et un hypocrite et que je ne pouvais pas corriger cette impression, car elle n’est plus. En fait, à part quelques occasions sociales où j’ai bu du vin rouge, [et aussi une fois, du gin, des baies de genièvre et du squadial de citron vert], je n’avais touché à aucune des liqueurs fortes. Cela m’a fait prendre conscience du fait que dans ma vie future, les gens devraient communiquer le plus souvent possible, particulièrement au sein d’une famille, et ne pas laisser de doute sans être rectifiés, en ce qui concerne les comportements …

Et à propos de mon professeur et mon ami–

Lorsque j’ai annulé l’examen et abandonné le travail écrit des derniers documents, mon ami Sebastian l’a également fait, mais nous nous sommes rencontrés par la suite à Cochin et avons partagé les chambres voisines d’un logement. Cet hôtel était proche d’un autre des principaux centres de l’université où des candidats privés apparaissaient généralement. Cette fois-là, il a exercé une profession à l’université qu’il a obtenue grâce à son diplôme précédent.

Dans l’autre pièce se trouvait un aspirant privé de Crangore, qui pouvait décrire ses efforts avec les femmes de son lieu et expliquer quelques techniques pour attirer les filles. de cette âme chanceuse, notre voisin dans les chambres. Plus tard, j’ai su dans la vie que le meilleur moyen d’attirer une femme est d’être soi-même. De cette façon, vous aurez le bon partenaire et l’absence de stratégie est plus attrayante pour tout être humain, homme ou femme. Nous avons le même esprit humain et les femmes sont plus sensibles aux choses cachées de la vie en général. En tout cas, ce sont des réflexions à considérer de plus et je vois que de nombreux lecteurs ont des panoramas divers sur de tels sujets….

— [extrait d’une œuvre de fiction en cours]



Dans le couloir, il attendait le moment le plus prestigieux de cette journée, marqué du nom d’une fille derrière son globe. La journée a commencé par une douche froide et s’est terminée de la même manière par une douche froide. De plus, il bruissait toute la journée (ou presque) du matin au soir et il était dans son deux-roues privé que son père avait présenté à son 38e anniversaire avec une empreinte et un logo familial après l’image que Willie Loman avait essayé de créer pendant sa quarantaine s’installer nulle part, sans jamais essayer de se dire. La vieille dame qui dirigeait son magasin et dirigeait un kiosque à livres dans le centre commercial se rendit pendant des heures pour lire des livres à sa guise, et lorsque son fils devint grand et devint le nouveau propriétaire de la librairie et a essayé de l’arrêter dans sa pratique de lire des livres librement. Parce qu’il a été élevé dans un autre courant particulier de notions sur le succès, la richesse, la personnalité et les relations – d’où il a tiré ces idées, il n’était pas assez sûr. Ses discours ont été merveilleux plusieurs fois. Il parlait comme un législateur, mais quelle est la plus grande loi qui soit, sans ces liens simples, il a oublié .. si quoi que ce soit, il le faisait et essayait de projeter une bonté cultivée..Il était ce genre de penseur. Il a fait tout ce qui était à la mode dans les tendances les plus modernes .. avait la compagnie de gens gentils et cultivés … engagé dans des activités socialement lucratives et se rendait au début d’une rivière dans un bateau avec ses amis et buvait du toddy et dansait tout au long de la soirée se tenant par la main, jusqu’à ce que tous, un par un, sans exception, tombent par terre..Mais plus tôt dans la vie, il copiait les feuilles de solution de son ami et il parodiait à partir des cartes-réponses de son ami et obtenait des notes et par chance ou Fluke, il a eu un bon travail avant son ami. cependant, son ami n’était pas jaloux de ces affaires … il a grandi dans la vie et a adapté le style de sa barbe au fil des saisons, ce qui a été une bonne source de joie pour ses amis, ces changements de styles de barbe, quelques années. dans la vie des colonies, c’est comme ça. ils se moquaient des gens qui étaient différents d’eux et c’était un moyen de maintenir l’ancien code de moralité et les liens étroits des familles et de leur étiquette particulière. Ces styles de l’extérieur étaient à couper le souffle, mais de l’intérieur, jamais. Il était aussi un écrivain, un poète d’une série de vers valeureux sur les vieilles familles et leurs batailles. Les quatrains portaient une cadence et un swing particuliers, dont l’un d’eux était le chef du clan de la jeune fille, qui somnolait dans l’après-midi après avoir mangé. et qui a vu des rêves, dans son sommeil. cette dame en particulier était vindicative et cherchait à rendre justice en tuant certains chefs qui l’avaient offensée en envoyant ses fils aînés dans sa vieillesse en leur enseignant les arts guerriers à ces chefs injustes. La partie finale est sans équivoque. Certaines narrations disent qu’elle a gagné dans son travail. Cependant, le folklore regorge de contes sur ce guerrier de la demoiselle et une source régulière pour les cinéastes. à chaque génération, il y a une pièce de théâtre ou un film sur elle. Le voleur était une autre icône de leur groupe culturel. Il ne fabriquait que des larcin dans des maisons riches et distribuait les richesses qu’il avait volées aux riches parmi les pauvres. les histoires ont surgi d’une exploitation répétée entre les classes …
il a manipulé les idées et ses premières lignes d’histoires ont choqué le grand public, alors qu’il écrivait franchement à propos de ses parents et que cela lui apportait d’énormes adeptes dans le pays et dans différentes parties du monde, car il avait commencé à écrire à une époque où le croisement des parents était général. modèle. Et une fois atteint un niveau tel que lorsque les parents sont venus assister à une réunion entre enseignants dans une institution prestigieuse, la communauté des étudiants de première année s’est levée sur leurs bancs et a crié – ces pères ne sont pas les nôtres, ce qui a scandalisé les anciens contemporains. que certains des pupilles arrivaient à la maison, ils avaient des coups de fouet, parce que, dans certains segments, il était supposé que toucher les orteils du père avant de partir était un signe avant-gardiste de la chance et un canal pour pénétrer dans des portes fermées, comme ils le croyaient. la bénédiction l’accompagnera sur son chemin, gong et retour. Ainsi, ce qu’ils ont vu à l’université était en opposition flagrante à cette croyance….


— [extrait d’une fiction en cours]







Last Meeting at Platform

HE was anticipating at the railroad terminal for several breaths when he noticed a bright matron at the opposite head of the platform, in black goggles and unwaveringly advancing with a slight halt here and then and her right hand moving unusually amassing momentum to advance as if something tried to withdraw her steps towards the back . He knew that it was her.
This is a principal and bustling halt of the electric train in the times of his boyhood. Later the town discovered numerous expansions, adding fresh operations on travel, luxury and further, metro subways and even quicker means of transportation. However, in those primes, it was a dominant stop. And he picked this special point for that impending meeting he had been yearning for long.
He was born here. K—–M. In the state clinic only half a mile from this spot. His daddy was an operator in a publishing firm governed by an assortment of academics and artisans defending the freedom struggle. His mother was in government service. In this metropolis that claimed a culture of 1500 years or further. Not indisputable. The centre switched its name according to the rulers who owned and it was a major port for goods, in an ancient map of voyage, enterprise and cultural exchange. The modern name is according to the postulate of the novel regulatory body that has a majority in the contemporary times. but he knew the place very well. He had sat on the same concrete benches[perhaps] with his cousins, and quite recently in his last visit for the funeral of his uncle, his cousin brought him to this particular station, to catch the connecting train. In the days of his college, whenever he visited this city with his parents to see their old friends and relatives, he got down and caught the train from this particular station. Because his father had his dearest old friend, staying just close to the railroad station, in a one-room apartment on the upper floor before he married a wealthy lady and moved to a bigger place. His father’s friend was good to him and a good friend to his father too, but a different man of different values. He married for wealth and status. But his father married for love. Just that. And that was all and enough for which every living thing is after in every heartbeat of the day.

So he chose this scene, this station, this platform, which is moderately crowded with electric trains going to both sides. He doubted whether she would appear, but she came.
After arriving at this city, he had phoned from his mobile to her number and though he did not expect, she picked his call. She recognised him. She is a star, has been so for many prior years, and the papers carry the features of her itinerary. What was he? Not a headliner. For he played well often, but abhorred trophies and at the terminal moment, quit the show and the spotlight, That made him a very private person, to make him unfettered to enjoy his sunset at will. He cared more about the excitement of living, Yes sheer living than any of the prizes that people offer you for their own private ends.


She stood before him and he looked at her face and requested her to remove her sunglasses which she might have used to avoid the sun and also to filter the fans to give more room for herself. This is what stardom status is finally. You cannot walk alone on the highways without answering people’s have become what they strive to be, those folks who deem success in this world as the absolute end. She removed the lorgnette and he saw her eyes, though less fiery as in her youth, still glowing and retaining some of the fire. For a second, he could not help thinking about that. The fact that she was the woman he wanted to marry in his college and could not and his senior married and she agreed. They were classmates and she had that ‘Vellarankannu’,[vella=white; Kannu=eye.–Malayalam],the rarest of eyes, the blackish white one, similar to a precious stone.

He asked her about her private life and also, if she is what she trumpets to be. For that she gave a roundabout reply.
‘You see we are meeting after many years. And I am not conscious of all your changes so far and I cannot all on a sudden divulge my private sides. Who knows that some reporter bribes you and you reveal my story to him for money?’.
This response devastated him so much. Here is perhaps another one of that Lappwing, who ”flyeth with a false cry farre from their nestes, making those that looke for them seeke where they are not”.(Lyly)…..What a pitiable end to a happy idealist girl of twenties with whom he conducted the organ donation camp three decades ago. And also with whom he sojourned in a motel room together as best friends, near a Children’s Hospital and collecting money and medicines for cancer affected kids.
Seeing his dismay she tried to console him with an ardent smile.
‘You see …Times have changed less to our whims, though we have every right to expect the right outcome. My whole life has turned out to be a business. A give and take.Expectation and fulfilment.As an actor,what the audience expects of me. And I have not found anybody who loved me just for the pure act of loving’.

‘Me, your husband, and maybe…..’, he paused, so that she could fill up the vacuum.
‘You, maybe –though I am not sure….. My husband, he is caring and generous, and more so after my ailment, attending me as if I were his daughter-and since there is a family around, the topic of love is always shrouded in responsibilities and common goals that every family has, and though it is divine setup, we cannot expect the best always. The best results come at random, and many times, we only know the motifs much later, misunderstanding the good intentions as bad and gullibly accepting the bad as good ones, giving place to self-regrets and painful afterthoughts. But in my case, it worked well and that is how I am here’, she concluded her long outburst.
‘Did you tell your wife that you are meeting me today’, she asked in a hurried tone.


He said, ‘No, but I will tell her when I go to my hometown,’ he said.
‘Out of responsibility?’, she asked.
‘No’, he said, ‘Out of selfishness, ‘If not, I will miss my sleep.’
‘Oh’, she said in a glum fashion, but smiled heartily later,and was trying to fathom the good man who was all and everything in her life for many youthful years,and the days and evenings they spent amidst fishing boats and shrimping nets near the harbour, and the matinees at Shenoy’s ‘Vistarama’(theatre) and Chinese snacks and how he vomited after drinking his first Chinese soup that tasted like the feather of a bird.
‘Did you tell your husband?’, he asked.
‘His car is waiting at the station parking lot down, she said, ‘In fact, he told me to convey his regards to you, though he is not much interested in meeting you’.
He thought with a slight ache, how that senior at the Institute had conquered him in love-He probed further- No, there is no jealousy.

Who said that – ‘All is fair in love and war’. John Lyly? However, he did not know that in those years of innocence of youth. If it were, everything would have changed in life – Yes,have changed. Everything.
But he thought that it was for good, for his wife is quite unlike her, though less attractive, capable of great sacrifices, though not fair like her, she has the most ardent smile ever.
But who is this matron after all, whom he trusted once and finally who deserted him and married another man whose father had ten fishing boats whereas his father had only three?
She told him- ‘ I am sorry dear for whatever has happened,’
He had heard that old story from many sources.
Her father warned her that she would have to stamp over the old sire’s corpse before marrying ought to be true, for his close confreres would not lie to him, and they were all happy idealists, the most romantic of the folks, who had many illusions of the world before some of them turned opportunists and later diving into the world of big cash and power. Not for the power to help each other but power to build their solitary empire and enjoy this story that only last a few days or leap years.


‘We will sit somewhere’, he said and she agreed, and they made a place at the end of a concrete bench, the other part of it occupied by college girl with a heavy satchel, who was in her churidar and pyjama and reading from the thick notebook and her lips slightly quivering while doing so.

He remembered now, how his father used to coach him to read without moving lips and once bought him a book on speed reading and taught him how to scan long divisions of profound thoughts quicker with a few shifts of the orb.
He viewed her body very closely now, this once upon a time damsel, with an artificial protrusion on her left bosom, after that malignancy that has been chasing her in recent years.
‘This conference, I wanted badly’, he said, because I am not sure if we will meet during the rest of our lives’
‘Yes’, she said almost supporting him. And added, ‘There is no certainty of life. We don’t, in fact, choose anything as such, we are all receivers even when we are making great choices in life. every coin has another side. Few people on earth can see both sides in a single look. Those blessed lot, unlike me’, she said. Finally, he wanted to hear that coming from her own mouth and he felt a great pity and subdued love for this unlucky woman, a star of the masses, seeing before his eyes less fortunate than him.

‘ I wanted to ask you this – but could not- Still, I think this is the best time ever-Did you love me then? …In those days –’, he ‎asked.
‘See,’ She said, ‘If a man likes a woman, there are several ways of expressing it, and words are the best means -But, if a woman likes a man, though there are several ways of expressing it, words are the meanest ones- the silliest of ways of telling that feeling.’
She continued, ‘ If I had not liked you then, do you think, I would have come now?’, she continued, ‘In spite of everything’.
‘In spite of what?’, he asked, in agitation.
She said-unequivocally,’In spite of my ill health’, and pointed feebly to the left side of her bosom, which he knew was a big hollow, and she had made it all for the viewers.
He felt sad. Immensely sad.never before he was so sad in his whole life,except at his mother’s funeral.–

Then he said something, that nobody heard.


‘Can I hug and kiss you?’, he asked her in a frightful tone.
‘No’, she said. ‘You were in the West, you might be used to that’, she said. here as you know well, is against the norm, ‘she said, ‘if you do so, a crowd will throng around you, and we will not be able to get out. ‘However, you can kiss my hand’, she said and offered him his her right hand, and he kissed it fervidly, as if it were the most darling present offered to him in this entire life and will be taken away any moment, because it is most treasured , a living presence with hopes and vibrant with a lot of covert horsepowers, a small slice of the universe itself with all its mysteries and kick. She stood up and in a flash caught his right shoulder and pressed so obdurately that it brassed him off and he knew that she was giving vent to an unsung sentiment that crossed her. Then she walked past him, past others and past everybody, and he hoped that she will look back but she did not and vanished in the last group at the exit. ‘A real princess,’ he told himself in emotion, and the last part of his utterance escaped him, ‘But of another kingdom’. It was loud with a great rush of waft from his mouth and the porter who passed with a bulky luggage on his occiput gave a gyration and gawked back at him in curiosity.
-[From a Work of Fiction in Making]


This appeared to be his prime walk to this particular segment that inhabited folks he had not met so far. You know who he is. If not, I must introduce him to you first. He is a Tolstoy scholar. A man of slender build.Not only a Tolstoy authority but a Dostoevsky scholar too. Aside from that, he had other interests and one such was that he loved dogs, picking up the practice of his neighbours and directed these creatures to the Sunday appearances and absorbed several ideas from those canine breeders and the pooches too. This collop of his temper, I may reveal in due course… But his treatise in the multiversity was about the creator of ‘War and Peace’. And he gained a medal for it, and his cherished professor’s commendation also. This was after he wedded the professor’s second offspring by an arranged sacrament where his parents were present. So the caresses and cares he received from her cannot be deemed as his victory after his strenuous activities in the archives. These steady rounds caused him trivial griefs. The first one,-he began using glasses in the first cycle of his research. The second one, he commenced staggering gently from his leftward front, due to continued perching in the antiquated chattels that was set towards the ridge of the building. He had a discrete spot near the lattice, the royal one, that was the vacation locality of an old monarch and which was adopted by the later administration and housed the archives and rare documents.
His wife worked in these archives, a full-time post that gave a reasonably sufficient amount to maintain the family. And his bursaries were mostly spent on books. He also acquired titles from foreign libraries paying a regular amount as fees. He savoured the work and was forthright about it and the university bestowed him a foreign talk tour as their representative. A gesture of cultural exchange and his journeys and stay was easily met by the remunerations he got for the lectures, which the university agreed that he could keep for himself. That was a choice move and he only had to compose a few letters for that because he did not aspire anything detrimental to befall by transgressing the norms of the academics and producing a standstill to research.
But what animated him was that he gained a companion in the Continent, a songwriter and a critic and also an editor of distinction, who partook his energy to tour Astapovo and perceive the very scene of the author’s passing, the doomed platform chairs. He had learned how the author has fled from his people, his wife, their reciprocal disagreements(He learned that Mrs Tolstoy also wrote well, and had strong views) and unpropitious pneumonia that tormented the old sire and all that stuff.