(This one was written when I got a surprise Christmas Gift from Kanchan – a bookmark!!)
Robby Sir is comings back SIRs/ MA’AMs!...
This time, he is beings comings back because he is beings HAPPY sir!! .. :D :D :D
And soooo very happy he is beings sir…. U is not even knowings/ thinkings!!!!!
And for the FIRST timing ever, Robby is proudly declarings that he is beings a member of S.P(R)E.W [Society for the Promotion of Ragpicking Elves’ Welfare] …. He is always beings so Ma’am, but he is declarings it today- because he is beings
OH-SO-HAPPY!!
Robby is waking at his elfish hour (One-ish) in noons today, Sir, and what is he seeing?? A long white packet (masters is callings it ‘an-vollo-pee’ sumfings Sir ) on his (if-u-can-call-it-a-)bed . He is rubbings his eyes, and lookings,sir and yay!! It is beings from fellow ragpicking-elf sister Winky’s Masters’ House… She is drawings an elfish cartoon on the backsides sir…!
And while his Masters is scoldings Robby (‘Bad, Bad Robby.. not wakings on time sir.. sleepings so long that is not suitings an elf sir’), I is beings openings the On-vollo-pee
And what is fallings out?? Booookiiiiiiiiiii!!! …
Now, now sir.. Robby was losings his bookmark some days ago… it is beings his ‘The Bookmark’ and was cryings bucketloads- was beings missings it!!
Everybody readings about it sir, Ma’am and pattings Robby on back (‘poor poor Robby’)- but Winky! – she is readings about it and is sendings him a NEW BOOKMARK made of coconut paper (which she is buyings for Robby and Winky when she is goings to Orissa with her Masters) anddd she is writings a loooooooooongg letter sir (her master, Miss Kanchan Singh is actually beings writing it for her- poor winky is never goings to School, sir..) …
She is sendings him Booky (‘bookiiii’, she is correctings him), and is warnings him not to ill-treat bookiii like he is doings with poor Zulfi and Kulfi … coz he is a fellow-elf and is not askings for undue looouuuu ;) .. this is beings her Chismush Peazant for Robby (Dec, 25 comings early for him!!) ..
And she is doings all this while they her EM-BEE-AYY EXAMS is goings on!!
*wiping away happy tears*
Robby is NOT wanting Clothes, Sir..
Robby is having Bookiiiiiii and Winky ;)
I ish stoppings talking Winky Ma’am- masters is throwings out the laptop otherwise.. and already, non-elves gossipping about Robby being a nutcase and spending hours online doing GOD-KNOWS-WHAT! ;)
*******************************************************************\
[An excerpt of an interview with Siddharth Dhanvant Sanghvi, a young Indian English writer. Author of ‘The Last Song of Dusk’]
There is something that I like about this person. Or maybe some tiny thing that I can relate with. PS. Note the italicized portion :P ]
Q. But how difficult is it for a 26-year-old to be so alone? I imagine you spent your early 20s tucked in a small room, writing away for long hours. Weren’t you tempted to go out and enjoy life, to party like others of your age?
I am not fundamentally solitary – but I realise that my craft needs vast stretches of loneliness – time to bear fruition. I’d rather spend an evening around a dinner table listening to and telling stories to my close friends (instead of being holed up in a room somewhere, writing away. I mean, how boring is that!) But these days I do find myself pulling back, cutting away – just to gather the story, just to set it down. My instinct suggests that, in the long term, this will prove detrimental: solitude is important, but our human interactions are elemental. Without them, there is no story. And without a story, there is no storyteller. It is possible to write yourself into a corner, and I’m consciously trying to avoid that degree of isolation.
- Siddharth Dhanvant Sanghvi, author of 'The Last Song Of Dusk'.
A toast to the
'White Lilies' in all of us
Oh I just called a spade a spade!
Does it bleed? Oh, are you hurt?
But ain’t it the rule of fair trade-
I’m honest-to-God- not just a blurt.
Hey, how dare you point at me!
And call me ‘rude’ and all those things…
You aim to thwart my honesty, blimey!
When its only just learnt to spread its wings.
Errrr… yeah so you want to do that too,
Call my spade a spade, you say??
Heavens No! but that is sooo not true-
Coz mine’s a blade, not a SPADE, No way!
Ah! You hurt me, to think I’d Bluff!!
You talkin’ to ME? – The White Lily!
Don’t you know me well enough?
To look for my grey is plain silly..
But of course *I nod wisely*
I don’t claim to be A Saint..
(Smirks and Smiles –smug, inwardly )
tho wont deny a dash of holiness –faint.
Still, go ahead, and have your say..
I’m all for an ‘honest’ one-to-one,
Call my Blade an Axe, you may-
If only for your trivial fun.
I only sigh as I look all around,
In self-pity, Where are the fellow good men?
Why do I always hit the ground?
When I’d beat a few, (and pushed down ten!! )
This is just not fair *beats her fist*
Their game’s not clean- it’s all a lie..
Too bad I’m stuck here in their midst-
The White Lily with all The Cactii…
**Ahem Ahem - one of those rare sarcastic outbursts after AGES.. PUN Wholly intended at the self proclaimed 'White Lilies' in all of us...including myself!! ;)**
Arps et al.. I'm not sure even u guys will read between the lines this time :P
heres the link to all ABOUT ME
http://straight4mthehorsesmouth.blogspot.com/ ...
anddd .. here is the link to Arpita's Blog ...
http://arpita1586.wordpress.com/
and here is the link to Ritu's ...
http://thehealershelpmate.blogspot.com/
PS. Arps, I have to say this: ur comments on my Blog mean more than the Booker to me!! wil Update it soon...
[After a fruitless and forced ‘discussion’ with some people.]
It struck again…
The Storm. The Tempest. You know… The one that rises inside your head, and that threatens to blow the lid off your head with the sheer force of thoughts/ unspoken words. Words of meaning, words of (what u strongly believe is) sanity ... words of explanation, words of reason .. and many many more such words…
And yet again,
the words were reigned in…
For what good is letting ‘em fall on deaf ears??
On ears that are just not attuned to their frequency??
On ears that carefully pick only that which they wish to hear/ are able to comprehend,
and conveniently filter out everything else??
And they had ASKED for MY words mind you.
And they concluded that I had none
No big deal. Really, I can weather The Tempest…
And stand guard- for as long as …
[These quotes all convey very important messages for me – though of course, each is different form the other.]
"Mr. Rearden," said Francisco, his voice solemnly calm, "if you saw Atlas, the giant who holds the world on his shoulders, if you saw that he stood, blood running down his chest, his knees buckling, his arms trembling but still trying to hold the world aloft with the last of his strength, and the greater his effort the heavier the world bore down upon his shoulders—what would you tell him to do?"
"I . . . don't know. What . . . could he do? What would you tell him?"
"To shrug."
- Atlas Shrugged
"But hell! That’s not the way to look at it. That’s not the whole picture.
There’s some good in the worst of us. There’s always a redeeming feature."
"So much the worse. Is it an inspiring sight to see a man commit a heroic
gesture, and then learn that he goes to vaudeville shows for relaxation? Or see
a man who’s painted a magnificent canvas--and learn that he spends his time
sleeping with every slut he meets?"
"What do you want? Perfection?"
"--or nothing. So, you see, I take the nothing."
"That doesn’t make sense."
"I take the only desire one can really permit oneself. Freedom, Alvah, freedom."
"You call that freedom?"
"To ask nothing. To expect nothing. To depend on nothing."
"What if you found something you wanted?"
"I won’t find it. I won’t choose to see it. It would be part of that lovely
world of yours. I’d have to share it with all the rest of you--and I wouldn’t.
You know, I never open again any great book I’ve read and loved. It hurts me to
think of the other eyes that have read it and of what they were. Things like
that can’t be shared. Not with people like that."
"Dominique, it’s abnormal to feel so strongly about anything."
"That’s the only way I can feel. Or not at all."
"Dominique, my dear," he said, with earnest, sincere concern, "I wish I’d been
your father. What kind of a tragedy did you have in your childhood?"
"Why, none at all. I had a wonderful childhood. Free and peaceful and not
bothered too much by anybody. Well, yes, I did feel bored very often. But I’m used to that."
- The Fountainhead
****************************************
‘The tiara sat glittering and twinkling in the light from the low-hanging lamp.
"Moonstones and diamonds," said the Goblin, who had sidled into the room without Harry noticing. "Made by goblins, I think?"
"And paid for by wizards," said Bill quietly, and the goblin shot him a look that was both furtive and challenging. ‘ – Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
