The arrival

Mikey stared at the makeshift cocoon of POP bones that had been assembled together in the same structural bent as the wall graffiti.  He had been warned off from befouling the wall, the first time he had started painting. The finished painting had stunned the watchman of the under-construction sub-way and all his loiterer pals. The mocks of an itsy-bitsy nine year old had vanished.

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The days gone by

I still distinctly remember the millennial year, 2000, for two reasons. One, that was the year I finished my Class X, with distinction. I still remember the anxiety wracked summer months while awaiting the CBSE board results, intermittently laced with the inevitable humour of the tall tales spun by fellow-students of their equally dubious forthcoming results. Two, that was the first time I spent considered time in a cyber café familiarising myself with the Internet and its then latest phenomenon, Google.

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The fatalism of the fairy tales and the realism of the mythology parable

The beauty of Belle, the goodness of Cinderella, the bravery of Hansel and Gretel, the curiosity of Rapunzel and even the naughtiness of Noddy are all traits that were at once the cause of their incarceration as well as the means of their salvation. The scintillating hope that is the undercurrent of almost every fairy tale – the hope of redemption, the hope that good can conquer evil and finally, the hope that the world can indeed be a beautiful place.

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