simone diya prabhu-new and improved (version 2.0)
Simone is playing with her toys; an ecletic mix of barbies, cars, cooking utensils, jigsaw puzzles and a frisbee. I say ' hey, 'run along' (just part of a long list of names that I call her, the others include 'ptsst yo' and 'culndhe(baby) mary), what do you want to be when you grow up'? She stops playing with her toys flashes me an enchanting smile and replies, 'I...... I want to be a 'magarmach' and eat all of you.' Hmmm, she does look like she is constantly plotting something, but mutating into a croc and eating us bit by bit; it never quite crossed my mind that sweet Simone had such gentle career plans. Gee, to think that her Dad figures that Simone is headed for superstardom in the tennis arena.
Simone is like a bright flower floating in pure spring water. She is animated innocence.... radiant like pristine white light pouring in through roofs of tall trees in a dark damp forest. Soon she shall have to be broken in and told about the ways of the world, her spirit skilfully compromised, crafted and cultured. Her intuition will be smoothly bartered for intellect in the hallowed name of higher learning, her rapturous faith in Santa will be traded for the cold comfort of Shoppers Stop, her spontaneous smiles and laughter swapped for tact and trained good behaviour. Dear Simone has no clue about what's in store, the long list of must not do's and the definitely must never do's. Taboo and tradition, sin and salvation, education and erudition, discpline and decorum, immorality and immortality, rules and restraint, falsity and faux pas. She will slowly make that ultimate acquisition of the grown-up, 'the personality' chiselled and moulded from years and years of conscious conditioning.
The real Simone will be left behind to play with her toys........ smiling an enthralling smile to herself.
Dont grow up Simone, maybe not just yet.