They say it takes only three words to convey life's biggest thoughts. The obvious ones apart, "I am sorry" surely is one such three-word set. "How are you" is another one. But for certain seven-year olds who chased an adventure filled childhood in a Cochin suburb years ago, there were some other three word sentences that were precursor to a world of excitement: "Mandrake gestures hypnotically" was one such sentence.

Indian Express was the newspaper of choice those days for the English speaking public in Kerala. Malayala Manorama was the leading vernacular daily. We used to receive Indian Express at our place, while our neighbour received Malayala Manorama. (I am told) both papers had similar views on capitalism (pro-) and socialism (anti-), but for seven year olds who never understood why grown-ups spent such a long time in the morning reading sheaves of papers with small lettering, the real treasure lay buried in one of the pages within. Malayala Manorama ran a daily strip of Mandrake The Magician - two, or at best three panels of action spread across an area of 4x3 inches at best, it would take at least 3-months to finish a proper story arc. Yet it would be followed with unimaginable relish on a daily basis, Mandrake's adventures being excitedly discussed on the school bus and probable strategies on how he would work his way out of an adversity.

On Sundays, Indian Express was THE newspaper to have. Why? Because the Sunday edition ran Mandrake in colour, along with Spiderman, Bringing Up Father, and a number of other cartoon strips. Papa was the designated reader for Mandrake - our vocabularies hadn't  matured enough to comprehend words like "hypnosis" yet, so comics were always read out and explained to us - and in his booming voice, he breathed life into Mandrake, Lothar and all the other villains in a manner few could. Once Mandrake was done, it was the turn to have Spiderman read to us. Mom was the designated reader for Spiderman. Looking back, those simple days of childhood seem like heaven.

Speaking of Sundays, another three word-sentence should be mentioned. One that served as precursor for events that would give nightmares for for many a pirate/ convict/ dictator - "Old Jungle Saying". Another childhood hero, and words would never be enough to describe that exciting phenomenon: The Guardian of The Eastern Desert, The Nemesis of Pirates, The Man Who Cannot Die, The Ghost Who Walks, The Phantom. "The Phantom Moves Faster Than Lightning: Old Jungle Saying". Or, "Never Point a Gun at The Phantom: Old Jungle Saying". Jungle sayings about Phantom's fists (like iron), or about Phantom's strength (equal to twenty tigers). Jungle sayings galore.

The Malayala Manorama on Sunday ran an immense quarter page of Phantom in vernacular (I've read Diamond Comics in Hindi - 'The Ghost Who Walks' was translated as "Chaltaa Phirtaa Preth", and the Malayalam translation was an equally campy one, but hell - those words had sacred value in those days, no one dared question them). Phantom, Diana, Kit & Heloise, Guran, Hero & Devil, and an unending stream of nerve racking adventure. I recall coming across The Illustrated Weekly (the name was quite hard to pronounce for my seven year old tongue), and the only reason I still recall the magazine was because it too ran a large spread of Phantom.

But why am I saying all this? Because while surfing the net reading up on irrelevant trivia, I came across a startling piece of news: Lee Falk, the creator of both these comics passed away in 1999. Lee Falk, a phenomenon that could produce magic without any hypnotic gesture or serve up delectable Old Jungle Sayings that coloured many a childhood story had passed away nearly a decade ago and I had no knowledge of it?

For some reason, it saddens me.

“Life is pleasant, death is peaceful. It is the transition that is troublesome.”

“I met a girl who sang the blues, and I asked her for some happy news

She just smiled and turned away

I went down to the sacred store, where I heard the music years before

And the man there said the music wouldn’t play

And in the streets the children screamed, the lovers cried and the poets dreamed

And not a word was spoken, the church bells all were broken

And three men I admired most, the Father, Son and the Holy Ghost

They took the last train for the coast…”

“Ms. American Pie”

Don Mclean