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The great newspaper connection!

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The great newspaper connection!
Brand addiction

For a long time,
the newspaper boy's bicycle bell
was my wake-up alarm;

now,
I sit in my balcony before daybreak,
eager for his bell.
For, from 'reader',
I have graduated to 'contributor'(!)
'Contributor' needs a foot-note.
No big deal this
— emailing a few letters to the editor
administering remedies for social maladies
and advice to leaders on running the country,
plus an occasional article or two.

Anxiety about their fate implies waiting,
with brisk nail-biting, for the paper boy.
Religiously pasting the cuttings
in the clippings file
when some pieces appear is the next logical step.
Which means I can ill afford to miss an issue.
Forced into frequent shifting
between two own houses within the city
located in distant places,
I had difficulty in ensuring regular supply.

One day,
my favourite paper did not come out
on time owing to some printing snags.
Parcels,
on delayed arrival,
having been picked up by agents
at certain places only,
I made frantic calls to my suppliers
in both the places and then to the newspaper office itself.
The reliability of the assurances
from all I would not miss the pending issue
the next day, to my mind,
appeared to weaken
as the day wore on.
Brand addiction!

I did a 5-km walk along the city's
main road in the evening,
stepping into every bookstall
asking for a copy of the day's paper.
None had my favourite paper.

Followed a night with disturbed sleep!
Next morning,
like an expectant father yearning
to see his newborn's face,

I ripped open the edit page of the paper
faithfully brought by the agent
along with the day's issue,
only to find it lacking lustre!
My piece was not there.

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