Sometimes it's nice to not know things

Last week I met a baby wallaroo. If you, like me, have above average wildlife trivia, it is possible you are thinking "the what now?" Perhaps you have truly great wildlife trivia and already knew that it is not a cross between a kangaroo and a wallaby and it's a completely different species of marsupial in that island kingdom.

- Nisha Susan

Last week I met a baby wallaroo. If you, like me, have above average wildlife trivia, it is possible you are thinking "the what now?" Perhaps you have truly great wildlife trivia and already knew that it is not a cross between a kangaroo and a wallaby and it's a completely different species of marsupial in that island kingdom. Well, good for you. I certainly didn't. It's left me thinking somewhat cheerfully about my ignorance. It's nice to not know things.

When I was in school, I used to write letters to my best friend during summer holidays. One year she complained gently about my covering the blue aerogram from end to end with random pop trivia that I had read. "I want to know about what's going on in your life," she said. I was befuddled by this demand. No one had told me that the ice-breaker trivia can't become the whole meal. All this to say I thoroughly enjoyed knowing random things. In K.R. Meera's newest book Ellavidha Pranayavum (Every Kind of Love), the protagonist Kapila is constantly startling people she meets with the things she knows. Most people are bemused, some people are impressed but only the love interest really enjoys it.

Which, if you love your K.R. Meera book boyfriends, is a IYKYK (If You Know You Know) moment. I laughed each time it happened because Kapila actually knows things and it's not my magpie-acquisition of shiny objects but still, I am familiar with that particular dynamic.