Quick Bites is a collection of middles, published in major newspapers and magazines.What is it that makes the middle stand apart? The middle is short, hardly ever more than 600 to 800 words. It draws strength from humour that skips and romps with the deftness of a mountain goat. It thus turns into a sort of mirror, at times, concave, at times, convex, (never does it remain a plain mirror), and manages to see what lies behind the even contours, that people, events or encounters present.

The 120 odd middles in this collection were written over a period of about forty years. They have enough power to evoke laughter at every turn. All of them are distinctly individualistic and are powered by what one may say, the ability to tickle the funny bone.

CONTENTS:

Better Half and Bitter Half
What’s in the pot?
Ugly husband, wife’s delight
On memory lapses
Surprise gift
Credit-worthy husband!
Doe
Tit for tat
Psychological muddle
Don’t ask for the moon
All ‘keyed’ up!
Riding the storm
Dutch wife
Flying missiles
Neurotic over a stapler
Potshots at Oneself
Anti-hero
Buttoned out
What have I written?
Waterloo
Tailor’s dummy
Tie or choker
Playing the critic
For whom belloc tolls
I pick pockets
Mirrors make the twain meet
Charge of the grey brigade
Fuzzy logic
Defending poor memory
A form of inspiration
Man in the rut
Perky Profiles
Remote control
The better half
Dictator’s delight
Bull in a China shop
Travel Travail
The last laugh
The roofless lady
Travel trouble
Camera-shy
Identity check
Malayan wisdom
A victorian tale
Tongue-twister
Talk over
Random Reflections
In praise of the kerchief
Palm-top legacy
A haunting mystery
Let judges court rhyme
Musical chairs
Principles and man
Cross thoughts
On windows
Ban the back pocket
Speech is golden
The meek do not inherit the earth
Bridges: Concrete and conceptual
On eyebrows
Dating diary gives the jitters
Ifs and buts of History
Relativity
Critics, authors and artists
Caught on the wrong foot
Dogs beware
Thumbs up!
Orators and hecklers
The cryptic art
The automatic watch
Symbol of gratitude
The farce of form-filling
Late to rise
Strange reasons
Second fiddle
Amusing Encounters
Value of a tip
Apparatchik
Tit for tat
Water on the rocks!
Obviously yours
Fattening thoughts
Clock watch
Silencing the wag
For friendship’s sake
Right logic

AN INTERESTING EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK IS AS FOLLOWS:

Bull in a China Shop
She has no business to enter the Brabourne Stadium, yet walks in on the pretext of watching the test match. She is blissfully ignorant of the rules of cricket. The terminology used by cricketers is Greek and Latin to her. To add to all these is the fact that she is not physically fit to sit under the blazing sun, watching a game that gives her little or no entertainment.

Her husband is not keen to take her along with him. But she brings in all the tricks of femininity and makes him take her along.

The crowd gives her the first shock. She loses her poise when she fails to spot any of her friends with whom she could have spent the whole day, gossiping. She takes her seat and surveys the scene with apparent disgust.

The play begins. The husband is engrossed in the game when she mutters, “Darling. Do you like this pattern that I have knitted?”
“Oh. Very nice.”
“You’ve not even bothered to glance at it.”
“Don’t disturb me. We have come to witness the Test match, not to appreciate your knitting patterns.”
“Why do you lose your temper? After all cricket is not that important. It’s only a stupid game about which Bernard Shaw has . . . . .”
“I’m not interested in Shaw’s opinion. Leave me in peace to enjoy the game.”
“Cricket’s a dull game.”
“I didn’t force you to come.”
“How can I enjoy the game unless you tell me the intricacies of the game. Tell me, darling, what’re those two men in white overcoats doing there? They seem to do nothing else except stretch their hands occasionally, so that the bowler may hang his coat or sweater. Why does one or other of them bend, stoop low and look at the stumps as if the heavens are about to fall?”
“They are the umpires. Now, sit tight. I’m missing the game because of your chatter.”
“Can’t I ask some simple questions? You don’t love me.”
“Don’t start an argument. I love you.”
“Then tell me, does a leg spinner spin his legs when he bowls?”
“What gave you the idea?”
“I guessed so.”
“Wrong.”
“Everything is wrong in cricket. Take, for instance, the wicket keeper.”
“What’s wrong about him?”
“It’s the batsman who protects the wicket, preventing the vicious fast balls and the cunning spinning balls from dislodging the bails and the wickets. He should be called the wicket keeper. On the other hand, the wicket keeper indulges in acts of wanton destruction. On many occasions, he has deliberately kept the ball in his hand and uprooted the stumps. He has watched with a broad smile when a fielder threw the ball at the stumps.”
“Will you stop this rot or not?”
“Now let us take batting. A great batsman, you say, should make all his strokes, keeping the ball on the ground. Yet, when he makes the ball scorch the earth and cross the boundary, he gets only four runs. The moment he throws the principle of keeping the ball on the ground overboard, making the ball float in the air and land beyond the boundary line, he gets six runs.”
“Shut up!”
“I’m only pointing out the flaws in the game.”
“You can do it later.”
“I’m getting bored. Let us go home.”
“Let stumps be drawn for the day. Then we’ll go.”
“Then, you’ll have to listen to my views on cricket till evening.”
“Well. I yield. Let us go.”
The man follows his wife, mumbling blasphemies; his face reminds one of the broken Chinaware after the bull had a merry go. And, the wife presents the very picture of an arrogant bull. She is a grade above the bull in the China shop. For, she plays with animate objects while the proverbial bull is satisfied with the Chinaware.