It’s safe to say I was not a very successful child. My childhood was pockmarked with unprofessionalism, be it socially, academically or physically. I should have done a course in self-improvement or joined IIPM or any other cults that help improve your personality.
I was an outcast and, like many people in a similar situation I found solace in books. I won’t say literature because I’m not Bengali or a B.A. student. I mean books.
Books are the best friends of anyone with few of them. Books don’t judge though sometimes they do make you judge your insipid talent (I’m talking to you, Douglas Adams).
The first author I truly loved was Enid Blyton. Her worlds were so idyllic, so simplistic – it all seems almost moronic in retrospect. There was no sexuality, barely any romance, no murder, violence and the biggest conflict in the books was trying to find treacle pudding. In fact finding treacle pudding seemed to be the main driving force for most characters in St Clares, Mallory Towers and Brer Rabbit.
Blyton made you believe that life could be wholesome and that serene. How ill prepared she would leave me for the rest of my life, how completely inept I would find this human world where there was adultery, murder, rapes, brutality, castrations, pedophilia and basically George R. R. Martin.
Now, don’t get me wrong: like any sensible adult, I love A Song Of Ice And Fire ‒ it is some of the most tremendously unpredictable writing I have ever read. George R.R. Martin is an evil criminal and I’m glad he has this outlet of writing fiction or I’m pretty sure he would have been arrested for all the crimes he depicts in his book.
Small wonder that his readers have already convicted him of multiple homicide numerous times over. Either way, there could not be a vaster distance between two printed books than between Famous Five and The Mystery of Something Insignificant In a Small British Town and Storm Of Swords: Kill Every F***ing Human Alive. Yet, I love both series of books equally.
Blyton shaped my childhood and the subtle inference on teaching morals and values helped me become first an idealist and then, seeing the world, a cynic. The world was never how she imagined it, which is why it was probably the ultimate high fantasy.
I never fanned over Blyton’s lead series Secret Seven, Noddy or Famous Five. I was a rebel of child fiction. In the world of idyllic fiction, I enjoyed Five Find Outers, The Adventure Series, Mallory Towers and St Clare considerably more. Yes, two of those series are about girls’ hostels. I think I grew up a woman.
I used to love Fatty in Five Find-Outers. Loved him. His bossy, ridiculous, cocky ways were amazing because I knew that even though I physically resembled him, I could never have his personality. Even though I became a bit like him while playing cricket and bowling faster than Michael Schumacher despite my bulk. True story. Despite the estrogen.
Fatty was the Tyrion Lannister of my youth. I’m not even kidding. Most of you are thinking, “Er… those two are as disconnected as Pankaj Udhas and Iron Maiden or The Pythagoras Theorem and KRK’s Chaddis or Sonam Kapoor and talent.”
But they are similar to me: both characters are misfits in their worlds, but their anarchy and mutiny against their worlds basically helped define the very universe their creators envisioned.
I’m sounding like a literature student doing a pseudo-intellectual discourse on a phone book: “Oh, yes the cultural ethos of the world of Yellow Pages is defeated by the presence of those under the alphabetical section ‘X’, which proves that a Nietzschean anomaly can exist in your mobile phone.”
But I owe a lot to, and feel strongly about, both authors. I can draw parallels between them because they both mattered to me. And they both rescued me like only the best books do.
So, here then is an ode to both writers: a glimpse of a world where they clash.
The Famous Five, By George R.R. Martin
Dick howled in pain as George castrated him, “You’re a spider now, Mr Dick. Father of No More Dragons.”
Anne stood on the throne made from the blood of all the murderers in their small British town. Astride her fearsome dragons that had burned Julian to cinders, as the smell of burning flesh filled the room, Anne wondered out aloud, “The Dothraki dream has come true, George: Spider of The West.”
“A kingdom doesn’t need two of them, Your Highness”, said George and sliced Dick’s head clean off.
Anne wondered about all the blood, the gore, the inhumanity, “Was it really worth it?”
George held up the golden chalice high up into the sunlight and tasted a droplet with a diamond spoon. “Made from the dough of bakers from all seven kingdoms - this Plum Pudding is worth a thousand deaths, Mhysa.”
A fire raged from below Anne as Timothy, Anne’s most rabid dragon, burned George to his very core, “Don’t you dare take a sip of the Queen of The Seven Kingdoms of Kent’s Pudding,” she said to the spot where her former friend stood.
A Storm Of Swords, By Enid Blyton
It had been a truly delightful morning. What a spread there was for Joffrey’s wedding. Pigeon pie, plum pudding, orange juice and as much punch as Tyrion could muster. He was stuffed.
“My dearest, beloved, most respected Uncle. I hope you enjoyed the food at my wedding”, said Jeffrey.
“Oh yes. But, we’ve still not solved the mystery of who was smuggling goods on the shore of Westeros”, said Tyrion.
“Mysteries can wait, dear uncle. Have some more wine”, said the delightful young lad and poured some for his uncle. In his haste to please his uncle he spilled some upon his robe.
“Oh, young ‘un what have you done,” cried Uncle Tyrion. His Sunday best was in ruins and he didn’t think the cleaners would be able to remove the red wine.
“It’s OK, Uncle. We shall call this wedding the Red Wedding”, said Joffrey and spilled some wine on himself.
Everyone clapped and laughed at the idea and poured red wine on their clothes.
The Red Wedding, what a delightful idea. Tyrion was proud of the ingenuity of his wonderful nephew. He loved him so.
If you enjoy Sorabh Pant’s profundity, try his new novel, Under Delhi. Or, send him abuse on Twitter @hankypanty.