A Castle full of Books

Courtesy : ArchitecturalDesign 
Over the hills and above the winds, far beyond the citadels of heaven. In a land of transcential tranquility and ever lasting peace lies my perfect little castle. Up in theses heavens of mind, through giant wooden doors and winding paths ever so long stands my perfect little castle. Over the lush country meadows and overlooking celestial gardens stands my perfect little castle. One that is made not of the finest granite but yet is embellished in celestial opulence. Casted in iron and furnished with english brown oak, smelling of the sweet rustic aroma of aged paper and ink. In wooden shelves so high and written works so mighty, stands clinging to each a wall, a million books and its eternal thoughts. my perfect little castle, abode to my perfect little dream.
Show you around this magnificent castle in my dreams I shall, but of all the rooms of one is all I ever dream. Past the grand halls and its antique chandeliers, past the winding stairs and the dimly lit path ways, lies the room of my dreams. With ceilings so high that the stars could peek through and windows through which clouds could come and go. On its windows lashes the rains of many years and in its hearth kindles the great fire of knowledge itself. Smelling of paper and ink, the musk of the intellectual heart and filled with aroma of the wisdom of all ages.  In its centre amidst the many piles of books lies a little chair, one that is cosy and one that is warm. It is here where I sit and bask in the glory of my splendid dream. Sitting there with a steaming cup of coffee at my arms length, a book in my arms and cuddled into the heart of the cushions is I.
There are tall wooden shelves everywhere, each with a million books and ladders that can reach the skies. With a mahogany desk for me to write and many a quills of thousand plumage for my thoughts to flow through. With the flickering light of my hearth I read, like in the time of a greater awakening. When giants of words roamed the land and ideas with wings began to fly. This is where I place the fireman’s nightmare, this where I dream my dream in a time in past when many a legends graced the the land. This is my dream, my perfect dream, my dream of my  perfect little castle. 
This is my dream, my perfect dream, my dream of my perfect little castle, little castle of the books.

As part of IndiSpire : An initiative by IndiBlogger

Simple and Sensible : Once Upon the Tracks of Mumbai – Rishi Vohra

The candid caricature of a bereft man, a man in the cusp of manhood, his dreams, ambitions and his frustrations. When through purely accidental circumstances he turns out to be the super hero that the metro was craving, it means an opportunity for him to express himself for the first time in front of a society that has for so long ignored his existence. Rishi Vohra’s Once upon the tracks of Mumbai is an inquiry into the mental dilemmas of such a man.

It is only true that occasionally we discover ourselves and rediscover ourselves in this master work of his. The truth being that Railman is just as identifiable to me as I am to me. Every teen who has had his heart long for justice in these troubled times has a Railman inside him who goes around kicking the ass of those villains. But when Babloo finds himself becoming Railman, he experiences an acceptance the society was unwilling to give his true self, making him believe that being Railman was the reason for his being. The fall of his ideal being causes much confusion that poor Babloo finds baffling.

The story of how Babloo deals with all the problems of his life, from love to social acceptance and the moment of clarity that he experiences teaches us more about us than about Babloo. In a way Once upon the tracks of Mumbai is more about self than anything else. A good book, simple and sensible is a book worth reading and has a small feel good factor about it. Hence Rishi Vohra’s Once upon the tracks of Mumbai is an official Rupertt wind recommendation.