“How come you are out today, look at you, ah the bore you are!” said the stapler loud looking at the bookmark just out of the book with the DO-NOT DISTURB look. “You dare say that you monster, I am well read, I do not pin up and hook around unlike a few here!” the smarty pant replied. The stapler turned a puppy face. “Wait until I punch you all over, what is read shall be dead!” said the paper punch looking at his friend,. Laughter ensued in the crowd and the bookmark looked around. It was a different world altogether. So many people and all strangers.
Life suddenly seemed good between the pages, between the story, the characters and the circumstances, every time the girl flipped to the next he knew he made it ahead, there was some sort of pace and now minutes ago everything had reached a dead end. She smiled and closed the book, took him out, got up from the chair and left out of the room leaving him alone.
“Oh my God, why did she get me out?” the bookmark shrieked “Can’t she get me a book now? How long here in this hell of a place? Now she will forget me and get to the laptop!” he sighed. Meanwhile the pens standing neatly together in the stand- the blacks, the greens, the reds and the blues looked at this new entrant and mumbled something between themselves “Such an overpopulated place and having this level headed young man here, how good is it, this idea?”
The paints, crayons and sketch pens went “Mama! Papa! Let him be here, we shall colour him!” being the playful kids they were got eager thinking he would join their game. But the old brushes who monitored these little devils turned out to be flat and point, “Of what use is he to us, an introvert who does not want to mingle with the place and people” they exclaimed. There was silence and everyone nodded. “Our eraser and sharpener men have enough rules to make and issues to control here. You never know what he is capable of, he has traveled books and that too many, knowledge when more than necessary and if not in the right place is dangerous. Even our calendar uncle cannot judge and keep a record of him. If anyone speaks in favour of this chap again, well we shall ask the scotch tape police to shut you guys up and tag along with him. As criminals, as outcasts. We do not need Robin Hoods here. You understand that. You will be thrown into the prison and mind you our dustbin has a lot of place. The girl hardly remembers it anyways” they added.
Hearing this everyone on the table prayed for someone to come, to take this Einstein to a better place, somewhere he deserved to be. The laptop decided to help their situation and ran out of power. The door opened and someone came singing “We are the world, we are the children” like MJ. It was the girl, she looked at the almost dead laptop and made a funny face. She changed her mind and turned to the bookshelf, took out another book thinking if she had read it already, smiling sure that she hasn’t she picked up the bookmark, kept him between the pages and started reading yet again. The relief on his face, as well as the rests, blimey was not so stationary.
Chaos is a sign of productivity is my theory but ain’t blind to the obvious
'difficult arrangement'. It’s just that it is a pleasant sight, having things scattered
around on my table always and only I know what lies where which is a feel good thing. Wonder what my world would have
been if they all were somewhere else !