Just finished reading ‘The Book of Wicked Stories’.
There’s something about wickedness that charms the heart. Perhaps the stories are a manifestation of what the heart really desires, but is afraid of. The cold blooded frivolousness touches a chord somewhere… ( Wait a minute! Isn’t it love and goodwill that’s supposed to do that? Ah Well..!)
The stories range from simple to bizarre – from everyday situations to unearthly incidents. And they all have a common thread running through them – a complete disregard for anything considerate or generous. An anthology compiled by Ruskin Bond, all the short stories have been picked out with an acute sensitivity – anything that is even remotely kind has been strictly avoided. The authors stand united in their wickedness and take the reader on an absurd journey of heart warming malice. All notions of propriety are discarded, save those that are necessary to remain within the boundaries of wickedness, and the reader finds, with an almost child like glee, stories taken from his heart and fancy, come alive in the pages of the book. For who can deny, that within every man, woman and child lives a devil – big or small, repressed or free – a devil scarcely acknowledged and mostly veiled. Hasn’t every being felt the prick of the devil – the nagging voice that tells him to abandon prudence and the guise of the saint and to do as his heart truly wishes – to take his revenges, to steal, to lie, to cheat, to heed none of the shackles of gentility! And to do all of this without a pang of remorse or guilt?!
A must read for all whose hearts are not pure white, and a fitting gift for me, from one who understands the wickedness of my black heart, only too well…
