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About Amit Varma

Amit Varma is a writer based in Mumbai. He worked in journalism for over a decade, and won the Bastiat Prize for Journalism in 2007. His bestselling novel, My Friend Sancho, was published in 2009. He is best known for his blog, India Uncut. His current project is a non-fiction book about the lack of personal and economic freedoms in post-Independence India.




Bastiat Prize 2007 Winner

Recent entries

Love and Loneliness

This is the 58th installment of Rhyme and Reason, my weekly set of limericks for the Sunday Times of India…

Bye Bye Love. Hello Indigo

This is the 57th installment of Rhyme and Reason, my weekly set of limericks for the Sunday Times of India…

House of Khichdi

This is the 56th installment of Rhyme and Reason, my weekly set of limericks for the Sunday Times of India…

Shruti and DD at the Bastiat

I’m overjoyed that two good friends, Shruti Rajagopalan and Devangshu Datta have made the shortlist for the 2017 Bastiat Prize…

Theft and Violence

This is the 55th installment of Rhyme and Reason, my weekly set of limericks for the Sunday Times of India…

07 July, 2007

Unspeakable beasts

Quote of the day:

I [am] a God of an unknowable evil. There are countless civilizations which have fallen beneath my horrible might. But in all my years I’ve never been so cruel to the universe as to produce an offspring. What unspeakable beasts are you?

Cthulhu.

And as I sometimes tend to do, let us move from unspeakable horror to sublime beauty in one swoop. Here’s Philip Larkin on the same subject:

This be the Verse—Philip Larkin

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.

Man hands on misery to man/ It deepens like a coastal shelf. Even Cthulhu would be moved! My favourite Larkin poem, though, is probably “The Trees.” Something almost being said…  

(Chthulhu link via Facebook from Aishwarya. Previous posts on Eldritch horror: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14.)

Posted by Amit Varma in Arts and entertainment | Personal

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