In the history of Indian journalism, there will never be another humorist like Busybee; he was the Art Buchwald of India, the P.G. Wodehouse of our times and more, a writer with a brilliant sense of timing for satire and humour, but with a soft and sensitive pen. And with a flow of words that could have readers rolling in their living rooms, offices and suburban trains on their way home; or moisteyed with emotion and sepia-tinged nostalgia. That was Busybee.
And he conveyed all this through a cast of fictionary characters with himself in the lead, and ably supported by a spouse he simply named “the wife”, two sons who never grew up, Darryl and Derrek, a unimaginably rich but generous friend who lived in the 21st floor penthouse of one of Bombay’s highrises, and talking dog Bolshoi the Boxer. Busybee drew them all into his column ‘Round and About’, though which he told his reader that it was perfectly fine to be the Common Man. And that if they thought bad things happened to good people only, they were probably right! He wrote in this delightful, free-flowing fashion for 36 uninterrupted years every morning, beginning and latter onn Pentium III PC that he claimed did most of his thinking and half work. His writing did not reflect the tools, of him trade, they brought out his Bombay, and he was the champion of the city and its citizen, nobody could describe Bombay’s people, its places, markets, maidans, institutions transport systems, politicians, socialities, food and eating habits, sports, business, underworld, fashion and life as Busybee did. Terse and laconic, but with a rhythm that created the impression of deadpan comedy.
There will never be another humorist like Busybee also because, through his writings, lives forever.