Ummuselma sits facing Vyasa and his elephant-headed scribe, Ganesha. She is waiting for advice on authoring a meta-narrative.
Ganesha browses through her manuscript and says to Vyasa, "This is regular Dear Diary stuff, boss, and it's not complete, what meta and all, I don't even…"
Ummuselma interrupts the scribe and addresses Vyasa directly. "Sir, that is because I'm writing it even as I'm living it, just like you had done with the Mahabharata."
Ganesha snorts through his trunk at Ummuselma's attempt at ingratiating herself with the sage. Vyasa looks up from a dusty tome, tired eyes twitch at the light filtering through the window. He doesn't grant even a cursory glance at her manuscript but he looks intently at her. She thinks of the phrase 'penetrating gaze' and then thinks of how Dhritarashtra was born blind because his mother had shut her eyes in terror during sex with Vyasa. In the background, Ganesh coughs suggestively. Vyasa sighs and looks away, but addresses her. "If the story you are writing is what you are also living, content and contiguity will rarely come easily. Be prepared to intervene."