The Rantings of a Bookworm

An Encounter With Privacy

Snails, turtles, silkworms and sea urchins
Seemed to me creatures most content
There’s always a private retreat for them,
And upon Privacy I was most bent.

“Oh how wonderful it would be”, I thought,
“If humans had as lucky a chance”,
For then I could be myself, my inner self,
That wished madly to sing, laugh and dance.

A halo around me, an invisible wall,
A comfort zone; was all I wanted,
Least did I want a connection with the world,
And with the pretence and pomposity it flaunted.

So I shunned all external friendship and judgement,
And built a sturdy, yet invisible wall around me
I revelled in Privacy’s blissful company,
Only to realise it would soon cease to be.

For though I could sing and dance to my heart’s content
And heartily rave and laugh like a lunatic,
Privacy was stifling and suffocating me, and I cried,
“The world is my home!”; I was woefully homesick.

I broke through the wall, in great earnest,
And re-joined my old world in haste;
Nasty, pretentious and pompous as it maybe,
We live in here, and without it, life would be a waste.


I know it’s a messy rant of a poem, please bear with me!

Daily Prompt: Privacy

(As a routine only) – If you did like this, please don’t forget to ‘like’, comment and follow!


Book Review – The Elusive Pimpernel


the-elusive-pimpernel-imageAs much as this blog is titled ‘The Rantings of a Bookworm’, let me tell you, there couldn’t exist a lazier book-reader than what I have been for the last couple of years.

After what seems like an aeon, I finally managed to read one novel in its entirety – ‘The Elusive Pimpernel’ by Baroness Emmuska Orczy. It happens to be the sequel (the third in the series, in fact) to a novel that I read four years ago – ‘The Scarlet Pimpernel’, which was quite a huge sensation during the days it was enacted on stage. I had been so inextricably attached to it that I remember having marvelled at the plot for weeks after I had finished reading it.  The sequel – though one would have thought that writing an equally compelling follow-up was never an easy task – is as gripping and unputdownable as its predecessor. Continue reading “Book Review – The Elusive Pimpernel”

Character Analysis #4 – Neville Longbottom

nevillehbpThis extremely long recess from blogging has its own reasons; laziness and procrastination being the chief ones, apart from the quagmire of frustrating non-creativity I have somehow found myself trapped in.

With due apologies (to anyone who would take them), I pull myself out of the mire with all the effort I can muster and present to you the 4th character analysis in my series: Neville Longbottom, the boy who is often underrated, taunted for his magical ineptitude and tormented by the memory of his tortured parents; but whose understanding of loyalty, courage and friendship (not to mention Herbology) is second to none.

Let us now buckle up for a journey through Neville’s life at Hogwarts, along with some interesting facts about his present life. Continue reading “Character Analysis #4 – Neville Longbottom”

From Author to Director – A Tough Transition

It has been a long time since I put up a blog post but college schedule is quite tight and I often do not find myself in the mood for blogging. But once the winter break starts, I shall resume analysing more characters and reviewing more books. For now, I publish this piece on movie adaptations that I worked on for a college assignment featuring the Harry Potter movies as a case study. Do read on!

“When I have had too much of reality, I open a book.” 


Who doesn’t like good books? Books are the best escape from the mundane reality of human life; they transport us to a world unseen and sometimes, purely imaginary. A world that doesn’t exist in real life but is nevertheless, very inviting and worthy of existence. A world that you would wish was solid and real. Continue reading “From Author to Director – A Tough Transition”

Character Analysis #3 – Luna Lovegood

indexI think that in each one of us, there surely lies a hidden inclination towards bizarre objects, thoughts and theories. At least, that’s true for me. Luna Lovegood’s character is something that I’ve always been able to relate to, since her introduction. In this post, I am going to take you through a journey of her life as we know it from the books, coupled with a few tidbits of her life after Hogwarts. Continue reading “Character Analysis #3 – Luna Lovegood”

The Metaphor – A Rethought

College has kept me away from blogging for quite some time; however, it has kindled in me a fascination for topics that I’ve never given deep thought before, such as the metaphor. I thought I would share an essay on the metaphor with all of you. I was working on this essay for an exam, and it was a great experience, for I received huge insights into the concept of metaphor. Do read on!

“The greatest thing by far is to be a master of metaphor; it is the mark of a genius, for to make metaphors means to have an eye for resemblance.”

                                                                                             -Aristotle, Poetics.


No language can be called complete if it does not accommodate one crucial figure of speech – the metaphor. Metaphor allows one to suavely explain abstract concepts using more material topics, thereby adding more colour and flavour to language. Not only does this make language more aesthetically pleasing, but it also sharpens one’s intellect as it allows one to ‘map’ or create a ‘correspondence’ between two otherwise completely unrelated topics.

Continue reading “The Metaphor – A Rethought”

Book Review – The Murder of Roger Ackroyd


Setting Sir Conan Doyle apart, I should say, ‘The Queen of Mystery’, Agatha Christie, has offered some of the best novels in detective fiction. I have read many books of the Poirot series and I have always had to marvel at the unprecedented climax that each one of her books has.

I must say, the Murder of Roger Ackroyd is one of her best masterpieces. Hercule Poirot, the little Belgian detective, who almost never had a failure in his record, puts his ‘little grey cells’ into perfect use and pulls off a flawless feat in finding out the murderer.

What starts with the apparent suicide of Mrs Ferrars, the lady who was thought to have started an intimate relationship with the wealthy owner of Fernly Park – Mr Ackroyd, after the death by poisoning of her husband, slowly darkens into a crime case following the murder of Mr Ackroyd. James Sheppard, Mr Ackroyd’s doctor, gets to know in a private meeting with him that someone had been blackmailing Mrs Ferrars, resulting in her suicide. Mr Ackroyd, being rather reluctant to read Mrs Ferrars’ suicide note (revealing the blackmailer’s identity) in the presence of Dr. Sheppard, chooses to read it at a later time. Before he can do so, however, he is found stabbed by a ornate, studded dagger from his own collection.

The immediate suspicion falls on Ralph Paton, Ackroyd’s motherless stepson, because he is in a spot of trouble for money and also makes a mysterious disappearance from the village. Flora Ackroyd, Mr. Ackroyd’s niece, is rather distraught at Ralph being suspected and approaches Hercule Poirot (who, incidentally, has been residing in the village) for help. Poirot takes up the case and Dr. Sheppard volunteers to write out the case’s progress, like Captain Hastings used to. The murderer could be any one of the servants, residents or visitors at Fernly. A series of investigations by Poirot paired with some ingenious psychological inferences finally unveils the murderer’s identity – something that will surely leave you gaping open-mouthed.

This book, I can assure you, will undoubtedly be a gripping read, and if you are a huge fan of detective fiction, Christie will surely not let you down.

Happy reading!


Thank you for your time! If you did like this, please don’t forget to ‘like’, comment and follow!

The Desert That Devoured


He was staggering forward.

Exerted to the point of complete exhaustion as he was, he mustered all his strength and floundered on. His face was pallid and covered in perspiration, his muscles were straining themselves, as each step he took required every last ounce of his vigour. His unprotected feet had sprouted blisters from the scorching coarseness of the sand.

He vaguely wondered if he was walking on fiery coal.

He pushed aside the thought, for he had more pressing matters at hand…he had to get to the place he father had never, ever been to…he had to slay his father’s reputation… he had to distinguish himself as the most intrepid traveller the world has ever had.

He had been brave enough to take up this insurmountable task of solely walking across the most dangerous desert on earth.

Little did he know that it would put him through a fatal turn of consequences.

Little did he know that he would be so unfortunate as to lose his way.

Little did he know, in his revelry of future fame that he probably would never get, he would be walking to his death.

A very thirsty death.

That reminded him – he needed water. Water.

His throat was getting drier by the second, he felt as if some invisible machine was sucking out every last drop of water from his body. His thoughts were turning hazy and so was his vision. He grappled with his mind, trying to put his train of thoughts into place.

He could see nothing around, let alone his last hope of life – an oasis. Everything was whirling around, his throat was starting to be strangled by an invisible, yet extremely strong hand. He was being consumed by the insufferable thirst that had blighted him, slowly. It was spreading like venom through his body. He began to realise he hadn’t much time.

He looked around once more; a wave of realisation overcame him. Regret, guilt and shame unveiled their voracious selves in him.

As he began to regret his recklessness, his lust for fame and his desire to be beheld as a much more fearless traveller than his father, everything around him spiralled and swirled…slowly…

To nothingness.



Inspired by the Daily Prompt: Desert

Please do comment below and leave your precious suggestions and critique!

For ‘She’ Was Forbidden


The young girl sat curled up in a corner

Her thoughts were as strained as could be

A wave of confusion overwhelmed her;

Anger and sadness didn’t forget to accompany.

She stole occasional glances through her window

Boys, her age, were capering about, playing football

While she was forbidden to do so,

For she was a girl.

Continue reading “For ‘She’ Was Forbidden”

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