Kaustubh Dudhane > Recent Status Updates

Her father always said there were things you couldn't train into a fighter - spirit, courage, the ability to be something greater than oneself.

If the Emperor is good at one thing, it's censorship.

"The strongest waves start far out at sea."

Planet Duna is Earth upside down 😄

‘OK guys,’ Macca mumbled. ‘We’ve lost six in a row. Gotta win this one. But I know you’re a bunch of soft cocks, so let’s go out and get this over with.'🤣🤣🤣

‘At some level,’ I philosophised, ‘all dismissals are deliberate.’ 😇

Como Park has two extremities: the Sahara End is traditionally a semi-arid zone, its sparse grass cover often causing the ball to take unpredictable deviations; and the Dogshit End, favoured for ‘walkies’ by the local doggie set, which also requires care, for different reasons. 😂

Cricket is allegedly a test of character, reintroducing its practitioners to triumph and disaster on a regular basis, while requiring them to treat those two impostors just the same.

Broadly speaking, beer + barbecue + cricket = average day; beer + barbecue + singing = social function.

Consider a standard conundrum: Bill can only play every third Sunday or else his workers’ compensation insurers might guess that he’s not paralysed from the waist down; Bob can’t play every third Sunday because he’s having an affair with Bill’s wife, who’s sick of her husband pretending to be paralysed. On second thoughts that’s easy: they can take turns playing, with the club, and with Bill’s missus. 😂

I feel I get more value from cricket than, say, Mark Waugh does. He’ll never derive as much satisfaction as I do from stroking a ball through extra cover, because he does it well, and I don’t. He expects to hit the ball where he intends. For me, there remains the enchantment of surprise. It’s simply that the pleasure of park cricket is broader than runs, wickets and catches. It has to be.

If I don’t kill him for betraying me, I can still kill him for his smug, stupid face.

“The spirits say you’re a man of madness. They say Death walks in your footsteps just to find an easier road. Some of them fear you. Some hate you. Some like you.” Jackal’s eyes narrowed. “The ones that like you are not sound of mind."

*quite true about Mad Ben Styke* 😃

Soldiers could be loyal to the death, or they could blow away with the next foul breeze. She expected anyone willing to join a mercenary company to be the latter.

Instinct is just a word we use to describe all the little bits of information your senses collect and how your brain interprets them. Instincts can be improved.

For most men, the strength of a Privileged didn’t matter— their reputation alone was enough to give them a wide berth. Styke was not most men. All he needed was will and a good knife. He had both.

“I’m a monster , Prost,” Styke said. “I know what I am. But I don’t kill kids or burn civilians. I don’t approve of suffering, either, but for you I’ll make an exception.”

To find a tax collector’s enemies, the old saying went, simply check the latest town census.

I tell a woman in antenatal clinic that she has to give up smoking. She shoots me a look that makes me wonder if I’ve accidentally just said, ‘I want to fuck your cat,’ or ‘They’re closing Lidl’.

A lovely Thai dinner at the Blue Elephant restaurant. At the end of the meal, the waiter brings over a pair of heart-shaped sweets in a beautifully carved wooden box. I eat mine whole. Turns out it was actually a candle. ❤🕯😂

So I told them the truth: the hours are terrible, the pay is terrible, the conditions are terrible; you’re underappreciated, unsupported, disrespected and frequently physically endangered. But there’s no better job in the world.

Misery loves company, after all – you only have to look in the doctors’ mess to know that.

On looking through this portfolio for the first time in years, my reflective practice seemed to involve going up to my hospital on-call room and writing down anything remotely interesting that had happened that day, like a medical Anne Frank (only with worse accommodation). 😂

No one had any ideals or glory-lust left. We just wanted to get somewhere, lie down, and forget the war. The war would not forget us.

A man cannot survive on hatred alone.

There are no self-proclaimed villains, only regiments of self-proclaimed saints. Victorious historians rule where good or evil lies.

Dead heroes don’t get a second chance.

Late that afternoon One-Eye broke into a marching song. Goblin squawked in protest. One-Eye grinned and sang all the louder.
“He’s changing the words!” Goblin squealed. 😆

There was always a breeze out around the Island, though it avoided the shore as if fearing leprosy. 😂

Honesty. It was so difficult. Sometimes it was the only way.