Motley Musings Blog

Rants and raves, reflection and reverie, responses and regurgitation, recollections and revelations: rightful restitution by a reprehensible rascal. A blog about me and every other runt that slaps my back while passing by.

Blue Ticks, Diamonds, and the Value of Quality

What is common between Twitter’s Blue Ticks, Diamonds, and the OPEC? Will Elon Musk’s plan to sell the blue ticks improve or harm Twitter’s fortunes? What does it mean for the value of the blue ticks for people?

Here’s Why I Need You to Work 18 Hours a Day: And Not Whine About It

SHORT STORY/SATIRE – ‘The ‘conference room’ was a corner of the studio floor with big glass windows, seven bean bags, and toys scattered around. Raman Ronadhona had taken a bean bag next to a stuffed bulldog. The Founder-CEO, the 30-something Chaman Chaturkumar, stomped in and plonked into a huge tan bean bag shaped like a chair. He had a frown on his face and didn’t look happy.’

How I Became the Richest Person in the World

SHORT STORY/SATIRE – ‘Those were tough days. I had sold my scooter to loan money to a local businessman, Firki bhai. He put it in a business that eventually sank because, as it became apparent later, he knew nothing about that line of business! And when I asked for my money back, he avoided me! It’s not like he wasn’t rich already; he just wouldn’t return what he owed me!’

Mili’s Sunday in CP

A SHORT STORY: “Five-year-old Mili was enjoying a Sunday outing with her father, Ashutosh. They had not come to Connaught Place since before the pandemic, and Ashutosh was keen to see how things were.”

Sheru, the Girl-Boy Dog

A SHORT STORY
“It had got dark earlier than usual, and the park looked like a dark-green canvas with splotches of white. Sheru was sitting cross-legged, ladylike, facing a girl swinging on the swing, as if guarding her. But he saw me a fraction of a second before I saw him. And in that time, he had wagged his tail, got up, and started limp-running to intercept me on the walkway…”

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About Me

I’m on the wrong side of forty and none the wiser. Every few years something happens that leaves me all confused about what is what. But I know I love writing. I do love reading, but I tend to wander off, following glowworms of thoughts that emerge quietly from the words in front of me.

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