Cold water splashed on my face in the morning. Add to it, the annoyance of the morning sun rays.
Then Ma shouting at you, at the top of her voice, and your sleepy mind magnifies it.
Someone rightly said. Sit at home, and you're a Nikamma. Roam outside, and you're an Awaara.
<sigh> will people ever be happy?
Somehow in Rajasthan, deserts have always ruled. Its either too hot or too cold, and unbearable most of the time.
My father, Shanovar Singh, is the thakur of the area. So we have all you could've have dreamed of, a palatial house, lots of boring Indian food which all foreign visitors fall over, maids which constantly fuss over you, an overanxious mother and a father with a heart of stone.
Do you know once he killed around eighty rabbits and called them "game"?
I frankly love animals. The school I go to, is miles away from the desert, and the atmosphere is comparatively colder. You can hardly see any animals in the desert. Once or twice I have spotted the rare desert fox, peeping out from behind the cactus, its tongue hanging out, but it vanishes as soon as it sees me.
I was acquainted with this lame ferret. As lame in the literal sense, meaning without a leg.
He wasn't a genuine desert inhabitant- some rich guy had wandered into the desert yelping something about "finding spiritual knowledge". All the children of the village areas went to see this city boy with so much knowledge and books. Little did they know that all those books were fashion magazines.
He had a pet ferret, and thank god ferrets can adapt to the desert climate, because it would've been a tragedy if the poor little cute thing had died in the extreme heat (Of the desert as well as the chaotic mess made when the city guy's parents whisked him away. )
Some car ran over him, and even though the village people took him in because the kids were making their lives hell, he wasn't expected to survive. But there he was, walking as if he owns the place...only on three legs instead of four.
We are kind people, and we always leave out some korma and roti for him. We have this mutual understanding, and keep our noses out of each other's business, except when it comes to food of course.
So, coming back to the subject, I was getting really, really, really, really, well, increasing the number of really's won't increase my boredom.
I ran around the whole house, pretending I was a housefly who was going to attack Mom's laddoos. Buzz I entered the kitchen, cunningly stretched my fingers for a laddoo to "contaminate"....and THWACK!
Where's the love, huh?
However, people are REALLY excited today for some reason, especially the girls. I run down the corridor and find my sister chattering like some monkey. Girls can talk so fast, and they expect us to understand each and every WORD, as if we're the tracks to their Duronto Express.
They're holding a newspaper instead of outdated issues of Filmfare (for a change). I run towards them, to spoil all their fun.
...
<Part 2>
Then Ma shouting at you, at the top of her voice, and your sleepy mind magnifies it.
Someone rightly said. Sit at home, and you're a Nikamma. Roam outside, and you're an Awaara.
<sigh> will people ever be happy?
Somehow in Rajasthan, deserts have always ruled. Its either too hot or too cold, and unbearable most of the time.
My father, Shanovar Singh, is the thakur of the area. So we have all you could've have dreamed of, a palatial house, lots of boring Indian food which all foreign visitors fall over, maids which constantly fuss over you, an overanxious mother and a father with a heart of stone.
Do you know once he killed around eighty rabbits and called them "game"?
I frankly love animals. The school I go to, is miles away from the desert, and the atmosphere is comparatively colder. You can hardly see any animals in the desert. Once or twice I have spotted the rare desert fox, peeping out from behind the cactus, its tongue hanging out, but it vanishes as soon as it sees me.
I was acquainted with this lame ferret. As lame in the literal sense, meaning without a leg.
He wasn't a genuine desert inhabitant- some rich guy had wandered into the desert yelping something about "finding spiritual knowledge". All the children of the village areas went to see this city boy with so much knowledge and books. Little did they know that all those books were fashion magazines.
He had a pet ferret, and thank god ferrets can adapt to the desert climate, because it would've been a tragedy if the poor little cute thing had died in the extreme heat (Of the desert as well as the chaotic mess made when the city guy's parents whisked him away. )
Some car ran over him, and even though the village people took him in because the kids were making their lives hell, he wasn't expected to survive. But there he was, walking as if he owns the place...only on three legs instead of four.
We are kind people, and we always leave out some korma and roti for him. We have this mutual understanding, and keep our noses out of each other's business, except when it comes to food of course.
So, coming back to the subject, I was getting really, really, really, really, well, increasing the number of really's won't increase my boredom.
I ran around the whole house, pretending I was a housefly who was going to attack Mom's laddoos. Buzz I entered the kitchen, cunningly stretched my fingers for a laddoo to "contaminate"....and THWACK!
Where's the love, huh?
However, people are REALLY excited today for some reason, especially the girls. I run down the corridor and find my sister chattering like some monkey. Girls can talk so fast, and they expect us to understand each and every WORD, as if we're the tracks to their Duronto Express.
They're holding a newspaper instead of outdated issues of Filmfare (for a change). I run towards them, to spoil all their fun.
...
<Part 2>
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