Tuesday, 29 January 2008


It is one thing to be a good person and quite another thing to be called a good boy, you know. For the record, I want to say that till now, I have miserably failed to earn the much sought after and coveted sobriquet that I longed long for eons and even bagged for a couple of times to some disinterested yet pious souls but to no avail. The newfound friends were neither much of help to me, nor clear about their intentions; I must confess. Through the much and much of the past of my thought of boyhood, it has always slipped away from me for no fault of mine and it is no better even now.
Though, I always appeared to be some kind of a much maturated person in a world of the grown ups and downs all around me flaunting neatly maintained moustaches and other glittering goodies, I never ever enjoyed my thrust upon allergic knighthood, secretly thinking that someday I will succeed in impressing some gullible souls to believe that I am the long lost good boy of sort that was to be discovered by. After reaching the fag ends of my seeking, I have almost turned into several of the goody goody avatars available under the sun that I carefully stole from my neighborhoods and from the fiction books that boasted of the classical types. May be I never was a convincing type since I know that many of my acquaintances had once remained the good boys of their kindred and sweet hearts as a temporary measure, due to their extraordinary quality of being sporadically sober in front of their holy mentors.
It certainly is a daunting task to become a good boy when nobody is ready to take fancy at your wagging tails and rein a velvet chain around your ever ready protruding neck in exchange of liberally advanced praises and encomiums. Does it mean that the good boy like me has no takers?
Boys are as a rule, for the keeps—more than ready for domestication and up-keeps for a song. To own them you need to be inviting and to posses them you ought to lure them with promises of cuddles and of course cook mouth watering foodies or even the tidbits as feeds.