Articles

  • 4 days ago | deccanchronicle.com | Krishna Shastri Devulapalli

    “How do you plan to keep your father’s legacy alive?” It’s a question I get asked a lot these days. Earlier it used to be “What are you doing to keep your grandfather’s legacy alive?”The question changed, I’m guessing, because my father passed away three years ago while my grandfather did it 45 years ago. And people figured the guilt of not having done enough for my father would be a lot fresher, therefore a lot more mineable, than the guilt of not having done enough for my grandfather.

  • 1 month ago | deccanchronicle.com | Krishna Shastri Devulapalli

    What’s your problem, someone asked me the other day. I get asked this a lot and somehow hadn’t had the opportunity thus far to respond properly. You have a minute? I said. Yeah, sure, he said. Well, I’ll tell you what my problem is. My problem is that you don’t mean it when you say sorry. My problem is you don’t know how to forgive. My problem is you don’t acknowledge what is good but are quick to find fault. My problem is you think it’s okay not to respond to mails, messages or calls.

  • 2 months ago | deccanchronicle.com | Krishna Shastri Devulapalli

    I don’t go to literature festivals. That could have something to do with my not being invited to too many these days. I used to be at one time, mind you, and went to a dozen or so. But each time I came back, what did I do?

  • Jan 18, 2025 | deccanchronicle.com | Krishna Shastri Devulapalli

    I think the press, social media warriors, and — more to the point, my favourite, the kind, beautiful Deepika — have been unduly harsh with L&T’s S.N. Subrahmanyan. What did he say that was so wrong, I say? “I think we should work on Sundays, too, for how long can you stare at your wife?” or something to that effect. From my own experience, I can tell you — not for more than three seconds max. Because my wife can outstare me even when she’s asleep.

  • Nov 23, 2024 | deccanchronicle.com | Krishna Shastri Devulapalli

    The other day, I got a couple of pictures from an old school friend whom I hadn’t heard from in a while. These were photographs where the entire class posed with someone you can see now as an unbelievably youthful class teacher, one you saw as ancient back then. The surprise element of these pics was that they featured me — a rarity, believe me, because every school day for me meant one thing and one thing alone: figuring out a way to be somewhere else.

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