In Chennai’s Madras High Court of Grammar, the Oxford comma is on trial! Lawyers battle over clarity vs. brevity—will the verdict favor precision or simplicity?
Chapter 1: The Case Begins: Is Comma neccessary?
It was a sweltering afternoon in Chennai. Inside the grand, wood-paneled Madras High Court of Grammar, a case that had divided writers, editors, and English teachers for years was finally coming to trial.
The accused? The Oxford Comma—that tiny punctuation mark that had sparked countless debates in classrooms, publishing houses, and even family WhatsApp groups.
Judge R. Syntaxium, a no-nonsense man with a love for crisp sentences, adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. “Order! The case of Brevity vs. Clarity shall now begin.”
The prosecution’s lead counsel, Mr. Brevity Krishnan, rose from his seat. A lean, sharp-tongued man, he believed in keeping things short and sweet.
“Your Honor, the Oxford comma is nothing but an unnecessary nuisance. We Tamilians have already mastered brevity—why add extra strokes when a simple ‘and’ does the job?”
He turned to the jury, a panel of editors, teachers, and one software engineer who had no idea how he ended up here but stayed for the entertainment.
He flourished a piece of paper. “Consider this sentence:
My favorite dishes are dosa, idli and sambar.
Simple. Clean. No Oxford comma.
Now look at this:
My favorite dishes are dosa, idli, and sambar.
See? The extra comma is as pointless as a raincoat in peak summer.”
There were murmurs of agreement. Chennaiites love efficiency—why complicate things?
Chapter 2: The Comma Case for Clarity
But Ms. Clarity Meenakshi, the defense lawyer, was unshaken. She strode to the front, adjusting her pattu saree.
“Your Honor, let me show you why that ‘extra stroke’ is sometimes the difference between order and chaos.”
She pulled out a document—an old Chit Fund Will.
“Without the Oxford comma, this will reads:
I leave my property to my sons, Sundar and Rajalakshmi.”
She paused. “Now tell me, Your Honor—is Rajalakshmi a separate beneficiary or is she Sundar’s wife? The Oxford comma would have made that crystal clear.”
The jury sat up. This was serious.
Then came Professor Ambi, a retired linguistics professor from Mylapore, as an expert witness.
He wiped his spectacles, cleared his throat, and said, “My students once misread:
I dedicate this book to my parents, A.R. Rahman and Lata Mangeshkar.”
The courtroom burst into laughter.
Judge Syntaxium tapped his gavel for silence. The case was far from over.
Chapter 3: Shakespeare Speaks
Just as the defense was about to rest, a figure appeared at the back of the courtroom.
Clad in Elizabethan-style clothes, with a quill tucked behind his ear, he stepped forward dramatically.
The room fell silent.
Judge Syntaxium blinked. “And… who might you be?”
“William Shakespeare, at your service,” the man declared, his voice echoing through the hall. “I have written comedies, tragedies, and histories, yet never have I used this Oxford comma. And behold! My words live on.”
Brevity Krishnan smirked. His strongest witness had arrived.
But Clarity Meenakshi was quick.
“Ah, yes, sir. But if only you had used an Oxford comma, schoolchildren wouldn’t spend years struggling to figure out whether—
‘Julius Caesar, a traitor and a tyrant’ meant one person or three.”
Shakespeare hesitated. “Well… you do have a point.”
The courtroom held its breath.
Judge Syntaxium sighed.
The moment of judgment had arrived.
Chapter 4: The Verdict and Beyond
Judge Syntaxium tapped his gavel once more.
“Enough! The arguments are clear. Some writers need the Oxford comma; others don’t. But one thing is certain—without it, we sometimes make a mess.”
He banged his gavel.
“The verdict? Let the writer decide.”
Outside, as people spilled into the city’s traffic-clogged streets, the debate continued.
At a tea stall near Marina Beach, two editors were locked in a heated argument over a wedding invitation.
“Look at this!” one editor groaned, pointing at the card.
“Join us in celebrating with our parents, Rajesh and Priya and Guru.”
“Now, tell me—are Rajesh and Priya a couple, or is Priya marrying Guru?”
The other editor shook his head, stirring his tea.
“One little comma, and this entire wedding confusion could have been avoided.”
The Oxford comma had won its freedom, but in Chennai, the conversation was far from over.
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It’s a brilliant writing! You certainly made me live in the courtroom😅
It was joy reading it. More to go.