Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for April, 2022

Old geezer re-reading

In 1954 P.G. Wodehouse published another novel. Well, why wouldn’t he? He was only 73, and the novel that he wrote – Jeeves and the Feudal Spirit – was only (by some accounting) his seventy-second book and only the seventh full-length Jeeves-and-Wooster story. (There had been many more short stories, and there were to be four more J-and-W novels before he died in 1975.) And as my illustration shows, I read this story in its recent Everyman hardback incarnation – a delight. Nice cover, nice design, nice typeface.

I’ve been enjoying Wodehouse’s work, especially the Jeeves and Wooster stories, for over 50 years myself, so it was no hardship to go back to this novel for the online #1954Club. Or was I not going back, but rather reading it for the first time? It’s difficult to be sure, for Jeeves and the Feudal Spirit (hereinafter JATFS) contains almost…

View original post 980 more words

Read Full Post »

We appear to live in times when lyrics in Bollywood are mostly lost in the loud music churned out by a metallic orchestra. Lyricists are barely acknowledged.

It is times such as these which persuade us to travel back in time and remember the kind of soulful poetry the lyricists of yore used to offer.

Here is a great post on Hasrat Jaipuri.

Enjoy!

Dustedoff

Today is the birth centenary of one of Hindi cinema’s greatest lyricists, the very prolific and versatile Hasrat Jaipuri. Born in Jaipur on April 15, 1922, ‘Hasrat’ was named Iqbal Hussain, and took to writing poetry fairly early in life. In 1940, not even 20 years old, Hasrat moved to Bombay, where, though he attended mushairas and wrote (and recited) a good deal of verse, he was also obliged to take up a job as bus conductor. This job helped him make ends meet for the next 8 years, when Hasrat had the good fortune to be noticed by none other than Prithviraj Kapoor at a mushaira. Kapoor was so impressed by the young poet, he recommended Hasrat to his son Raj, who was then in the midst of planning Barsaat (1949). Hasrat was taken on to write songs for the film, and that was the start of a…

View original post 1,636 more words

Read Full Post »

When it comes to owning a sprawling property like Brinkley Manor, there is no way I can compete with Bertie Wooster’s miserly Uncle Tom, or, if you wish me to be precise, Thomas “Tom” Portarlington Travers. I do have a humble roof over my head which serves its purpose rather well.

Nor do I have a dynamic wife like Aunt Dahlia who, when she loses a sum of 500 pounds while gambling at Cannes, might ask me to replace the money in order to keep financing her magazine, Milady’s Boudoir. Simply because I do not have ample resources at my command. 

My lair can also not boast of someone like Anatole, God’s gift to our gastric juices. Guests who get invited over to my place often try to come up with the flimsiest of excuses to escape the trauma of having to put plain dal-roti-subzi-chawal down the hatch.  

Nor am I a collector of silver cow creamers. I merely collect books, movies and music albums.  

But when it comes to an aversion to payment of taxes, my thinking absolutely matches that of Uncle Tom.

The Psychology of a Taxpayer

I daresay it is not greed that makes one detest the payment of taxes. Rather, it is the disproportionately high rate of taxes which one objects to. Services delivered by the government barely touch one. Our roads continue to be as bumpy as ever. Our power supply often keeps us on tenterhooks. Our public transport systems offer services which are rarely punctual, seldom tidy and often substandard. Quality medical care only enriches either the hospital owners or the insurance companies. Premium education is a rare commodity, accessible only to the well heeled.    

Above all, the taxation systems are designed to promote dishonesty. Evasion becomes the norm. By dodging taxes, a lay citizen has the power to cock a snook at the revenue authorities. What could be a sweeter revenge than to have been able to resort to some sharp practices to generate some black money and thereby contribute to the parallel economy of the country? In such matters, our ingenuity knows no bounds. Give us a tougher system and we shall always be one step ahead of the government of the day in browbeating it, appear to say the denizens. 

In fact, by resorting to such practices, a citizen may as well be contributing to nation building in his own humble way. One, the parallel economy is well isolated from the formal financial systems, thereby acting as a shock absorber to the jalopy of the formal economy when it runs into a speed breaker like that of the infamous 2008 meltdown. Two, politicians of all hues badly need unaccounted funds to keep winning elections all the time. Thus, we, the people, stand a better chance of keep electing governments which we deserve. Three, the shadow economy keeps greedy banks in tax heavens in the pink of health, partially fulfilling one of the key dictates of our scriptures, namely Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam. Four, such professions as accountants, lawyers and management seniors keep thriving in a perennial state of blissful existence, guiding one through the taxation maze.

I wonder if the tax rates are deliberately kept high so the above mentioned objectives of diverse stakeholders keep getting met. Also, the compliance maze is so designed as to invariably need a bevy of professionals to keep interpreting the fine print year after year. 

Perhaps, the sage advice dished out by Chanakya a few centuries back is willfully neglected. It may be recalled that in his seminal work Arthashastra, he had opined as follows:

Ideally, governments should collect taxes like a honeybee, which sucks just the right amount of honey from the flower so that both can survive. Taxes should be collected in small and not in large proportions.

What we have instead is a group of honeybees which collects not only the honey but also keeps a sharp eye on the soft petals and other tender parts of the flower.   

Our revenue authorities would be quick to point out the miniscule base of the tax-paying public being a reason for high taxes. Uncle Tom may not concur, though. Instead, he may recommend the following: a relentless focus on the employment generating businesses, thereby ensuring a steady income in the hands of a majority; predictable taxation systems which enthuse investors; use of modern technology to connect the dots between the direct and the indirect tax bases.  

However, these are not low hanging fruits. Our politicos typically have a five-year vision which prompts them to continue to be in an election mode most of the times.     

The Great Indian Milled Class

Unlike Uncle Tom, I did not make a fortune doing business in the Far East. I belong to the great Indian Middle Class, famed for the manner in which it upholds such values as honesty, truthfulness and fairness in its dealings with others. Those who belong to this segment of the society also uphold family values and social harmony.

Having slogged for over 35 years in the private sector as a salaried employee, I have always been a sitting duck for tax collectors of all kinds. Scriptures have taught us the value of perseverance and patience. Take away our Standard Deduction and we would simply squirm and keep quiet. Reduce the rates of our bank deposits and some of us may merely write a protest letter to the editor of our daily newspaper. Keep threatening us with a change-over of our hard-earned savings parked in a public provident fund account from the Exempt-Exempt-Exempt category to the Exempt-Exempt-Tax category, and few of us might make some ineffective noises.

Keep inflating our personal transport costs and we shall meekly accept the same. We ignore the fact that close to 45% of the fuel prices get cycled back to the government of the day. Home makers amongst us may keep twiddling their thumbs trying to balance their domestic budgets, but unless there is a direct threat to political power, nary an eyebrow is raised. We eagerly look forward to the next round of elections in the country so at least a transient relief may come our way.

Not to forget the Great Spiritual Tax which does not discriminate between the haves and the have-nots. It is designed to make us suppress our desires, focusing only on our bare needs. Thus, it makes all of us a wee bit more spiritual. A CEO pays as much tax on a bottle of shampoo as his liftman or driver does.

In general, the only long term satisfaction we may have is that of educating our children well and facilitating a smoother life for them in the times to come.

The Exorbitant Price of Honesty

Honesty does not come cheap, though. Recently, when I enquired about the kind of taxes applicable if one were to sell a property and send funds abroad, I was baffled. The mind was boggled to its soggy core. If I were lucky enough to find a buyer who would agree to do a 100% transparent transaction, the dreadful tax implications left me shivering from the top of my head to the base of my feet.

The buyer would need to shell out close to 11% by way of registration charges. As to the seller, a slice of close to 23.6% will need to be paid by way of compliance to the mandarins in the taxation department. If this were not enough, the bank would be happy to provide foreign exchange only if the seller would agree to an additional cost of 5%, by way of a higher education cess. The plea that a 4% education cess would already have been paid as a part of the 23.6% and that a further 5% contribution towards improvement of higher education in the country made no sense may simply fall on deaf ears. The only assurance provided was that of the total damage of 28.6% suffered, the seller may get some refund in due course of time. Thus, between the buyer and the seller, the transaction would get shaved off by a whopping 39.6%. Add to this the legal costs and the speed money which smoothens our lives in general, and we are talking about a cost in excess of 40%!

I am not too sure if the government ever played any role in the organic appreciation of the value of the property over a period of some 20 years when it would have remained in my family’s investment basket. However, I am certain that those framing our taxation rules have undergone an advanced diploma at an academy run by Shylock somewhere on the outskirts of Venice. Chanakya, were he to discover this harsh reality, would surely be found turning in his grave.

A vast majority amongst you would be quick to point out the need for a prospective seller to promptly consult some sharp minds in the realm of finance, so that much of this excessive cost may be avoided. What else could a mentally negligible nincompoop like me do?

But what about one’s humble contribution to the mighty task of nation building? Also, is there a merit in inviting a jaundiced view of the authorities concerned, leading to some nasty notices in the letter box six months hence?

Indeed, it is at times such as these that one’s commitment to honesty and transparency gets tested. Scales fall from one’s eyes. It dawns upon one as to why the real estate market continues to be a shady one, perpetually contributing to the parallel economy of the country.

A Sense of Detachment

Just as P. G. Wodehouse once wrote in the Vanity Fair, I also imagine sitting in my poverty-stricken home and wondering how a tax bandit, having entered my house uninvited, would wave a gun at me, rummage through my pockets and empty these out. He now wears a mask which reminds me of the popular OTT serial Money Heist. Alas, he does not realize that I am not the Royal Mint of Spain.

Nevertheless, he would be leading me to cultivate a sense of detachment from my hard-earned money, much along the lines of what Lord Krishna advises in the Bhagavad Gita. Hope when he leaves me, I shall be in a carefree state of mind.

Next time I get invited to Brinkley Manor, I shall surely ask Uncle Tom about the tax expert he consults!

(For details on the tax blues faced by P. G. Wodehouse, please check out Tony Ring’s book: https://www.amazon.com/You-Simply-Hit-Them-Extraordinary/dp/1870304225)

(Inputs from Dr Renu Singh Parmar are gratefully acknowledged; Illustration courtesy Suvarna Sanyal)

Related Post:

Remembering Chanakya (Kautilya The Great)

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/2016/09/09/psmith-and-mike-discuss-the-great-spiritual-tax-of-india/

Read Full Post »

My Views On Bollywood

By

Sharada Iyer

Bandish Bandits, the exceptionally melodious 10-episode web series that released on the OTT platform Amazon Prime on 4th August has found immense popularity among the young and old alike thanks to its outstanding music by the trio of Shankar-Ehsan-Loy, excellent performances by the entire cast who bring to life their respective characters and the striking locations set in Rajasthan which add a lot of colour to the proceedings.

Amidst all the revenge sagas and gangster dramas being offered on the OTT platforms, such a pure musical is a refreshing change and comes as a breath of fresh air.

The series has not only revived memories in the older generation of viewers the fast disappearing appreciation and magic of our culture and music but more importantly succeeded in attracting the younger generation to the beauty and allure of Hindustani classical music. Indeed, this is an incredible…

View original post 1,769 more words

Read Full Post »

William Faulkner is reported to have said that “The past is never dead, it’s not even past.”

Partition, or rather the tearing apart of India into three parts circa 1947, has always been a theme of enduring interest. To those who lived to tell the diabolical tales of their survival, it brings back a flood of memories, awash with deep-seated regrets and a sense of deep loss of one’s original home and hearth. Hence the title Hiraeth, meaning a longing based on a feeling of helplessness of not being able to revisit a place.

To their succeeding generations, it is a valuable record of the trauma of the planet’s biggest mass migration on record. It also captures the endurance and resilience of the human spirit, of an innate will to live and prosper, and of keeping the descendants isolated from the traumatic pain and suffering of their preceding generations.

Just like the graphic works of Saadat Hasan Manto, Khuswant Singh and many others, Hiraeth captures the agony, the suspicion, the cruelty and the madness that pervaded the air in those turbulent times. A commendable endeavour, indeed.  

The stories, based on the experiences of the author’s grandparents and other seniors in her family circles, capture not only the courage and sacrifice but also the generosity of the human spirit. These are written with a piercing beauty, alive with moral passion and sorrowful insight.

However, a word of caution may be in order. Picking up and going through the book needs nerves of chilled steel. It took me close to three years to build up the courage to get a copy. I could then devour the stories only one at a time. Each one of them, so very poignantly written, made me either sob uncontrollably or cry. Identifying with the main characters was apparently my undoing. Suffering the pain and deprivation they underwent.

Somewhere, a father was killing his own daughter so as to protect the family honour. Elsewhere, a recently widowed lady was able to release her inner grief only when she came across the turban cloth of her late husband.

Some offered solace as well. A just-orphaned kid getting breast-fed and adopted by a lady who has undergone the trauma of giving birth to a stillborn child of her own, their different religions notwithstanding.

The last story touches upon the ripple effect of a parent’s decision on the next generation. It goes on to demonstrate that partition, though the term in itself is a highly sanitized version of what really transpired then, is not so much an event in the past, but one that continues to influence the descendants of those who survived it. Those displaced and uprooted have stood up, shaken off the dust of negativity from their feet, taken control of things and ensured that the coming generations did well in their life and career. But the scars remain.  

Thanks to the efforts put in by the publishers, the book is well presented. Urdu titles of stories have been beautifully calligraphed, adding a unique charm to the text. The use of common terms to address parents, grandparents and other relatives in Hindi/Punjabi language bring the stories closer home. The cover itself says a lot, though, at first glance, one does not appreciate it.

At the end of it all, the book does lead one to feel more anger and even more anguish. Is there a way to avoid such tragedies in future? Can our leaders not be more prescient and take better control of things? As human beings, we pride ourselves on our technological achievements. But do we care to dismantle the invisible walls that exist between us? Could we widen our consciousness in such a way as to avoid conflicts and wars? Could we not instead channelize our collective energies towards addressing environmental challenges that we, as a race, face?

One may well ask if there is any point in remembering yet again what one cannot forget in a lifetime. Perhaps, a closure lies in moving towards mutual acceptance of culpability, a joint mourning for the lives we took, the attendant horrors we inflicted upon each other and then go in for mutual forgiveness. However, it is easier said than done. Wounds of the flesh heal; not so with the mental scars. Thus, the cycle of violence continues unabated. It suits our politicians to keep stoking these dormant embers.  Often, we end up being mere puppets in their hands.

In fact, this is the larger purpose the book serves. It reminds us of our past follies. It makes us sit up yet again and start wondering as to how to take better care of ourselves and our brethren. It prompts us to build bridges wherever needed and break down the walls of our biases and prejudices. It shows us the futility of treating those different from us as ‘others.’ It exhorts us to use our individual intellect to judge if what we are doing is right, not to be led astray by jingoism, chest thumping and wars.

I am reminded of a song which Talat Mehmood had rendered in his velvet-like soothing voice long time back:

Hein sabse madhur woh geet jinhen hum dard ke swar mein gaate hain…

Roughly translated, this says that the songs which are the sweetest are the ones which are set to the melody of sorrow!

It is in this spirit that this book deserves to be picked up, devoured and brooded upon. 

About the Author:

Dr. Shivani Salil, MD, calls herself a voracious reader, in love with words – both written and spoken. She used to work at KEM Hospital, Mumbai, until some time back when a geographical move pushed her into a sabbatical. She currently resides in Hong Kong with her husband and daughter.

As a child, she harboured two dreams: one, to become a doctor and the other, to pursue literature so that she could become a writer. Having lived and loved her first dream, this book is a step forward towards the second.

Get to know more about her on her website http://www.shivaniwrites.in and her Facebook page http://www.facebook.com/shivaniwrites18.

Availability of the Book:

In India: https://www.amazon.in/Hiraeth-Partition-Stories-from-1947/dp/8194132622

In US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07WRLTGLC

In UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B07WRLTGLC

In Canada: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B07WRLTGLC

In Australia: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B07WRLTGLC

In Germany:
https://www.amazon.de/Hiraeth-Partition-stories-1947-English-ebook/dp/B07WRLTGLC

The book is available on Kindle as well and is free on Kindle unlimited.

(The book has been published by Room9 Publications (www.artoonsinn.com).

Goodreads:

Hiraeth: Partition stories from 1947 by Shivani Salil

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

https://ashokbhatia.wordpress.com/202…

Other Book Reviews on this Blogsite:

Read Full Post »

Often, we complain about the inane offerings of mainstream Bollywood cinema. We bemoan the fact that we are expected to spend our hard-earned money, leave our brains outside a cinema hall, give our common sense a commercial break, temporarily suspend our beliefs and just enjoy the proceedings on the silver screen.

Some scripts make us go through the romantic upheavals in the lives of the hero and the heroine. Few others offer us unique insights into the world of crime and gore. Others thrive on keeping us glued to our seats wondering as to what may happen next. The thrill of a car chase, a saga of revenge and dollops of suspense make the experience worthy of our time, cost and attention.  

But there has always been a tiny segment of intellectually inclined directors who have kept regaling us with their unique insights on ills which plague our society as well as our economy. Call it the Parallel Cinema, the Consciousness Movement or the Cinema on the Fringes, if you will.

When Cinema on the Fringes becomes Meaningful

When it comes to caste-based prejudices, we have had Sujata (1959), Masaan (2015) and Article 15 (2019). A movie like Jhund (2022) showcases the everyday struggles of vagabond Dalit youngsters, haunted by the humiliating gaze of society. Speak of the disadvantaged and we are apt to think of Ankur (1974), Akrosh (1980), Chakra (1981) and Nil Battey Sannata (2015). Think of the angst of the educated unemployed and we discover Albert Pinto Ko Gussa Kyoon Aata Hai (1980) and Rang De Basanti (2006). Speak of sex workers and movies like Chandni Bar (2001), Chameli (2003) and Gangubhai Kathiawadi (2022) pop up in our minds.

When it came to our criminal justice system, movies such as Do Ankhen Barah Haath (1957), Kanoon (1960), Bandini (1963) and Achanak (1973) stood up for bold reforms. A cooperative movement leading to a resounding success in brand management inspired Manthan (1976). Difficulties faced by marginal farmers formed the central theme of such movies as Do Bigha Zameen (1953) and Heera Moti (1959). Challenges based on disabilities were poignantly captured in such movies as Koshish (1972), Black (2005) and Guzaarish (2010).

If the plight of rural migrants was showcased in Jagte Raho (1956), movies like Garm Hava (1973) and Pinjar (2003) brought home the trials and tribulations of those affected by Partition. Patriarchal maladies formed the crux of such movies as Sahib, Bibi aur Ghulam (1962). The plight of a widow moved us in Ek Chaadar Maili Si (1986). Swades (2004) spoke of using innovative frugal engineering solutions to the issues faced by villagers.

The Winds of Change

However, jingoistic nationalism, often camouflaged as patriotism, is the flavour of the season. In the past, movies like Haqeeqat (1964), Shaheed (1965), Lakshya (2004) and Mangal Pandey (2005) led to a rise in patriotic fervour amongst movie watchers. Upkar (1967) was all about ‘Jai Jawaan Jai Kisaan’. In the recent past, we have had Bajrangi Bhaijaan (2015), Raazi (2018) and Kesari (2019).

In tandem with the political headwinds, Islamic terrorism has come under a sharper focus. Gone are the days of such socials as Chaudvin Ka Chaand (1960), Mere Mehboob (1963), Mere Huzoor (1968) and Jodhaa Akbar (2008), wherein our composite Ganga-Yamuna ‘tehzeeb’ (culture) was lovingly portrayed. Instead, we now rejoice in people of a certain faith being portrayed as violent aggressors and anti-nationals. The recent successes of such movies as Padmaavat (2018) and The Kashmir Files (2022) form a part of this trend.

It is not that riots and genocides have not been captured by Bollywood before. A wonderful example which stands out is that of Mr. and Mrs. Iyer (2002). Movies like Mission Kashmir (2002), Parzania (2007) and Firaaq (2008) brought home the futility and tragedy of hatred. Some of these have attempted to uncover the inner turmoil experienced by the main protagonist. Many such movies have been banned. However, the focus now appears to have shifted on widening our social fissures rather than mending the same. Perhaps, a deeper cleaning of sorts of our social fabric is taking place.   

The rise of OTT platforms, thanks partly to a pandemic, has broadened the scope of offerings. If Jalsa (2022) keeps us on tenterhooks, The Fame Game (2022) gives us a sneak peek into the lives of celebrities. If Bombay Begums (2021) captures the ambition of gutsy females wanting to break the proverbial glass ceiling, Panchayat (2020) took us back to the countryside and showed us the kind of challenges which rural folks face. Bandish Bandits (2020) was a brilliant ode to the prowess of classical music.  

Even outside the traditional channels of cinema halls and OTT platforms, several talented directors keep coming up with offerings which show the day to day challenges faced by us in an inspiring mode. Those of you who have heard of Nirmal Anand Ki Puppy (2021) directed by Sandeep Mohan would heartily agree with me.

The line between conscious cinema and not-so-conscious cinema (in other words, ‘masala’ movies!) often gets blurred.  

Of Creative Consciousness

Creative juices need several favourable conditions which enable these to spring forth and eventually reach their target audience. When it comes to the powerful medium of cinema, a good script, backed by proficient actors, lilting lyrics and music, adroit editing and good production values surely helps. We may call many of these as meaningful. But if a movie entertains, educates and even goes on to address our deeply embedded social concerns and prejudices, it plays a useful role in shaping the values which govern our society. Such movies originate from a higher level of consciousness. Personally, I would prefer to call these movies as being the real meaningful ones!

A question may be asked as to whether it is possible for producers and directors to churn out socially relevant movies even when commercial considerations rule the roost. In Awara (1951), Boot Polish (1954) and Shri 420 (1955) Raj Kapur showed us how. So did B. R. Chopra when he came up with Nikaah (1982), and Yash Chopra when he offered us Dharmputra (1961) and Veer Zara (2004)!

Eventually, it all boils down to the level of consciousness of the producer-director duo. Awareness, Care and Intent alone are the enabling factors. These alone act as catalysts of Creative Consciousness. Those who have the courage and conviction to offer such movies pay back to the society what they get from it. 

Some Neglected Areas

There are three areas of strategic concern which appear to have been given the short shrift in the scheme of things.

What we lack is a vibrant children’s film movement. Movies like Aakhri Khat (1966), Makdee (2002), The Blue Umbrella (2005), Tare Zameen Par (2007) and Bumm Bumm Bole (2010) are few and far between. In the rat race of commercial considerations, this segment of the audience has lost its appeal. The outcome is that the age of innocence has got brutally cut short. The advent of internet and animation movies has further eroded the interest in child-friendly offerings. Children are losing the opportunity of imbibing rich values from such ancient texts as ‘Hitopadesha’ and ‘Panchatantra’. Poor souls are getting sucked into adult entertainment right away.   

Secondly, state funding for socially relevant and meaningful cinema has all but vanished. Unlike countries such as France where state support ensures that movies steeped in consciousness keep getting made, the rulers of today turn a blind eye to their own soft power.

Thirdly, the interest in preserving the history of cinema for the sake of posterity is singularly absent. It is an irony that not even a single print of Alam Ara (1931), the first ‘talkies’ to be churned out by Bollywood, is available in our archives.

If such strategic issues are left to the manipulations of the private sector alone, Bollywood will keep marching ahead with bolder and bolder themes, wooing their audience with exotic locales, sex appeal and special effects which leave the viewers in a state of shock and awe. Return on investments alone would count. The movies it churns out may be entirely soulless, so to say. Viewer tastes will keep getting manipulated by our dream merchants.

Related Posts:

Read Full Post »

Here is a delectable piece, if piece is indeed the word I want, which can be accessed at https://www.deccanherald.com/opinion/right-in-the-middle/full-moon-still-shines-brightly-1091669.html

(Note: Somehow, yours truly could not resist the temptation of sharing it here. Should the author or The Deccan Herald have any objections to my sharing this piece here, prompt corrective steps would surely be taken.)

Read Full Post »

ashokbhatia

Many of our homemakers happen to be depressed these days,

They wish their spouses to refrain from inviting yours truly to their homes;

Lest he behave like a male Laura Pyke, exhorting them to lay off the vitamins,

And while away his own time merely devouring some literary tomes.

 

A lazy bum, he continues to gobble up cookies from the kitchen jar,

Making the Aubrey Upjohn in the family take a jaundiced view of things;

He opens the hatch to guzzle down jugfuls of tea and milk,

Much like Bertie, he gets up very late, anticipating what the morning tray brings.

 

His cooking abilities are limited to boiling milk and eggs,

An apprenticeship under Anatole is what he desperately needs;

Doing the dishes and tidying up the place is not his idea of fun,

Oh, how they wish these could count as some of his chivalrous deeds.

 

View original post 343 more words

Read Full Post »