“The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones.”
Since Sunday I’ve had plenty of time to think of things that have captured the imagination of the entire nation apart from the humdrum duties of a home maker that are normally topmost on my mind. Ever since details of the gruesome murder of Sheena Bora surfaced in the Press, all that everyone is talking about (or at least the TV Channels) is, who did it and why. Similarly, the equally bizarre bomb hoax call that led to the arrest of a Bengaluru techie who had hatched an elaborate and convoluted plan to eliminate his spouse and that of his former girlfriend has left me wondering what kind of world are we really living in. What happened to the simple world of whodunnit’s that we were brought up on, where Enid Blyton’s Fatty of the Five Find Outers made the village policeman really look like a goon ? In fact when I later on graduated to the genteel world of Miss Marple and Hercule Poirot, I used to wonder how a seemingly idyllic English countryside would have so many murders going on? But today’s Press shows that murders seem to be the flavour of the day .
Why do people like whodunnits?
Perhaps it is our intrinsic and macabre fascination with the darker side of human nature ( which Society dictates we have to keep in check) that makes the detective story one of the most popular genres of storytelling, one with a universal appeal. Or is it the smug satisfaction of having “solved” the crime well before the murderer is uncovered in the last chapter?
Is this the reason why the entire nation ( sorry Arnav) wants to know why Indrani Mukherjea killed her daughter?
How do these clever criminals actually believe that they will get away scot free? Aren’t they the smart ones who think two steps ahead of the game? Or does greed and lust turn their brains to mush?
The other mysteries
Why did I stop wearing saris?
Tired of wearing just two trousers and two shirts all year long, I decided to get back to my saris that were literally gathering dust in my cupboards. Imagine my horror when I found the sari ripping up as I folded it up after the day’s wear! I decided that they needed to be worn and torn rather than just giving way in my cupboard. But what stopped me from wearing them? The answer is simple enough, the blouses just don’t fit any more and getting them tailored is more of a fiddle than one can imagine………matching the sari, getting them customised and finally getting them ready on time before my size increases!
Which then solved the next mytery :
Why did women of a certain generation only have 4 coloured blouses?
Women of my granny’s and mother’s generation only had four basic blouses: 1 dark green , 1 brick red, 1 jet black and 1 pristine white. The more fashionable of them would possibly have an extra one made of “chicken” ( no not like Lady Gaga’s beefy dress) but of embroidered or lace fabric sold by the once famous and now defunct Hakoba Mills.
I wonder if the other two mysteries would be just as easy to solve!
Who killed Sheena Bora?
Why did the techie not just divorce his wife rather than murder her?
I’m linking this to WriteTribe’s #MondayMusings.
