Sunbeams Through Monsoon Clouds

Sunbeams and monsoon clouds are like the light and the dark sides of literary humour, perhaps, best seen side by side like grecian theatre masks, in short stories, a literary form no longer much in use. From the days of Johnathan Swift to those of PG Wodehouse, humour held a preeminent place in literature. Its short form was perfected by geniuses like Maupassant and Saki, Leacock, and Thurber. Unfortunately, our present times have relegated humour to witless merriment, especially on the screen, while only the literary novel is left to produce contemplation, or a search for meaning. My little attempt is to revive the earlier tradition of the humorous short story, many times not so funny, for its dark side shows through. A short story is sparing in words, and its wit must be delivered with just enough delicacy to make you smile but not to guffaw. And that smile, hopefully, should provoke contemplation about the vicissitudes of life.