Asterix, the Gaul

Asterix, the smallish guy, no smart looks either, unkept hair (or is it because of the feathered helmet?) is an unlikely superhero, looks-wise. The one thing that he’s got going is the presence of a side-kick and a monstrous one at that. Okay, okay, Obelix is only huge-ish but gentle at heart. Why is he always ferrying menhirs though?

Asterix and Obelix

I grappled with these thoughts for a while as I discovered Asterix the Gaul in comics. Comic books were considered bad influence in my childhood, things that took you away from studies and didn’t let you be the doctor or engineer that you ought to be. It was frivolous to be reading comically drawn things with their dialogues in call outs. Literature was in the books that had closely spaced words, came as hardbacks and had archaic sounding words.

But once I got hold of these curious comics, there was no looking back. There was a snoot factor at work here. Most of my friends couldn’t figure out the storylines, let alone the puns, of which there were plenty. The hard hitting wit and the sarcasm is what I loved most about Asterix and characters.

At that time, I could have pointed out to my parents and my varied aunts and uncles who were so worried about my studies and ‘overall development’ that these books (not just comics) were educative. So many historical characters, so many places the superheroes traveled to. It was where I learnt about Cleopatra’s iconic nose. And chuckled when I read Caesar’s ‘Et Tu Brute’ in quite another scenario.

The names of the characters that told a story from their names – Cacofonix (the bard, sings badly), Geriatrix (oldish) Getafix (has a magical potion or a fix), Dogmatix (the dog, who else), the light-hearted way the conflict (bloody in reality) was presented where nothing more violent than tying up Cacofonix happened and the happy-go-lucky attitude of the occupants of the Gaulish village have been the hallmark of the series of Asterix comics.

The trio – Asterix, Obelix and Dogmatix

Recently, the illustrator and creator of Asterix comics, Albert Uderzo passed away, bring an era to an end. Another creative team may take up the project to keep the comic books coming. I am sure, Asterix and friends would continue to enthrall young and old readers across countries and cultures.

This post is part of #BlogchatterA2Z where I would be talking about my favourite fictional characters through the month of April.

Introducing Dinkus


Is that a word? Or a sound?

It seems that there are many symbols used in the printing of a book that indicate the closure of a section.
Like these.

It’s not something that has been beeped out or censored because it is offensive. Yes, that too, but in a word. Like, f***ing.

But, stand alone.

Three asterisks in a row *** are the typographical symbols used to indicate a section break in writing.

I never knew they had a name!

DINKUS also feels like a sound.

I hear DINKUS in my mind as a ding that signifies the finish of something and the beginning of yet another beautiful thing.

Looking at the odd word, at the different sounding word, I feel a sense of newness. I can say it slow, savouring it, rolling the letters but it comes out quick, like the joy of a little child that is spontaneous and knows no bounds.

It tastes like sweet, sticky jelly of my childhood that was not even set properly but we still scooped it up and ate the semi liquid, smearing our faces with it.

I can smell the word, sweet and pungent at once, like cinnamon.

I can feel it slithering sinuously, leaving a trail in my mind.

I always want to use all caps, because it conveys so much joy.

The plural is DINKUSES!!

If I close my eyes, I can see a series of little pixies, marching on, in a single file. How cute they look!


Being a DINKUS means being idiotic, as per the online dictionary that I consult. Which is quite true of this post.

That’s how some words evoke a lot for feeling in us. Its more about their sound and feel than their meaning. Which word is it for you?