Mr. Right story continued...

As I found my friends have enjoyed the Mr.Right story I have decided to share some blogs from discovering myself over here as I am being busy this week and not able to put out any blogs... Hope you will love my childhood mis- adventures ....

“Your thoughts are so mature. But you look so small. Can you tell me how old are you?”

“I am 10 yrs old.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I am always sure of everything. As I told you I am not very silly. I hate the question ‘are you sure?’ don’t ever ask me that again”.

“O.K. I am sorry.”

“It is very rare that elder people say they are sorry. They always argue they are right even if they know they aren’t. It is always children who are wrong. They don’t even know they are lying when they are. They think they can get away by saying anything because children will not remember and will not understand. But I do remember and also understand. And I hate them for lying and cheating on me.

There was this particular incident which taught me that I can’t even trust my mother. I don’t want anyone to assume that my mother is not a loving person. She is loving, caring and giving. At times she tries the easy way to get out of situations and gives me wrong information. Actually she does not want me to ask all questions which no one has asked so far. This incident has made a great impact on my life. Would you like to hear it? Actually I want it to be secret forever. I don’t want anyone to know about it. I don’t think I should have done what I did. But somehow now I feel I can tell you about this.

I was very small then. It must be few yrs ago. I wasn’t in school. We were a family of five. Mother, father, my maternal aunt and we two sisters. There was a man about whom my aunt was obsessed of and wanted to marry. Usually she would talk about their marriage and how much she loved him etc. I used to be present when this family discussions were going on. There were questions from me as to what she wanted to do? What was marriage? And so on. My family would be pestered to the end of their patience by me. They had to answer me so that I would shut my mouth. So in the end I had enough information to know that if some person finds someone who is pretty enough and good enough for them then they want to be with them forever and to be with someone forever they have to marry them.

Time passed by and one day I saw a young man who looked very cute. I just knew that if there was ever going to be a person with someone I would like to live forever then he was the one, because he always used to smile at me and wink at me when he found I was about to play some prank on someone around me.

My parents would often take me to a quite place called Prashanti Nilayam in hope of getting rid of my disability. And he was a student of Satya Sai College and the students were all supposed to be there in the ashram along with the followers of the holy man. The place was boring for a naughty child like me and so I started playing pranks on people around me. They would always try to keep me quite with sshh shhhh shhhh………. But when they were engrossed in meditation I would start playing my pranks. I enjoyed troubling all those people who were sitting there so engrossed in meditation. I would pile up sand on the pallou of a lady meditating in front of me because when she would get up the dirt would get into my aunt and mummy’s eyes who were right behind her and they would close their eyes for sometime and then they would check out each others eyes and blow into them asking ‘are you feeling better now?’ By the time they got the dirt out I could just hide somewhere to scare them. That was the punishment I meted out to the people who made me sit quite for long hrs. That usually worked out. They would look here and there call out my name in whispers because they weren’t supposed to talk aloud and desperately decide that I have been lost and it was then I would come looking for them from my hiding place. I would get shouted at and then I would decide I will do it again to teach them a lesson. I loved telling them tales of how I got lost. Sometimes it was I went by with a lady with same color sari which my mother was wearing and then realized I was with wrong person when I saw her face and I was very very scared. Another time it was I heard someone calling my name and rushed to find out some strangers looking for some other child and so on. It was amusing they never realized I was lying.

How I proposed to a guy boldly ....

I am sharing the Mr.Right story with you all here. It is one of the most memorable and happy event I can recall from my childhood. At times I wonder what would have happened to me if Mr.Right was one of the freaks we hear about.

One day as I was piling up the dirt I saw this young cute person watching me with a smile. That was surprising. He wasn’t angry at what I was doing. He just shook his head meaning don’t do it. And I had to agree with someone so beautiful. I couldn’t go against a person who was smiling when I was doing something wrong and not saying shhhhhhhhh shhhhh. He had to be very good person.

So I asked my aunt “who is he? What is his name?”

She looked at me curiously and asked “why do you want to know that now?” “He is so cute and I want to marry him”.

Suddenly I could see that her face just lit up. I could see her discussing something very seriously with my mother and I was sure it was about what I had told her just now and they both kept giggling at me. For once they had no problem handling me.

The next day they announced to me that his name was Raja, and he would marry me if I would behave well and keep quite. He wasn’t willing to talk to me because he was very upset that I had been always naughty and talkative. But he agreed to allow them to sit in a place where I could watch him. I was afraid that he may have told them what I was doing but they did not speak about it and so I admired him more for not giving away my secret. From then on it was Raja from morning till night.
“If you don’t drink milk you will not become fair and then Raja may refuse to marry you”
“If you cry you may lose your eyesight and Raja will not like you”
“If you shout loudly your voice will go hoarse and Raja will not like talking to you”

They had me do everything they wanted. I would sit there in front of him and look at him quietly waiting for him to find me so good and nice and try to talk to me. He would occasionally throw a glance at me and smile and sometimes ask ‘what?’ by raising his eyebrows. I can’t remember how long this went on. But then I just got bored beyond my limit. I just couldn’t keep quite anymore. I gave in to the wildness in me and started to be my old self when I was stopped all of sudden by a chubby fair girl from China. Now my mother would say “if you don’t listen to me then Raja will marry her because she is very good and so quite” .

I had to give in for a few more days. I hated that girl. Actually she was so fat and tired that she could not do anything much. As though I was already not having enough on my plate she had to come along to add to my woes. Whenever I found her looking my way I would make faces and stare angrily at her. She was surprised in the beginning but then started acting scared of me and I loved that.

I could not stay quite for a long time. Not even to marry someone as nice as Raja. Yes! I decided to settle the matter for once and all. One day I saw him walking towards the hostel and my mother and aunt were engrossed in conversation with some new found friends. I told them I am going to daddy and ran away. I just ran up to him and called Raja. He did not turn back. I thought I was still not good enough for him to talk to me. Yet I could not do everything they told me anymore so I just went up to him and touched his hand. He looked down and smiled at me. I felt very happy that he was not angry with me. The one thing I liked about him and still remember is he sat down on his knees so that he could talk to me and that too with his spotless white pants. He asked me kindly “are you lost? Where is your mother?” I replied speedily in one breath.

“I don’t know what they have been saying to you about me but I have been good girl ever since you told them and I am finding it very boring. I want to know when you are marrying me and coming home with me because I can’t do everything they are asking me to do anymore”.

He was shocked and amused. But he knew there was something behind this. So he questioned me a little more and I answered him but as we talked I realized that they had been lying to me. They had cheated me. They did not even know his name. He told me his name and I could not even pronounce it. But he was a very good person. He told me I was nice when I was naughty and he liked me when I looked mischievous. So we sort of became friends in a very short time. Yet my question had not been answered and I still wanted to know whether we can marry?
“Why do you want marry me?”
“Because I want to be with you”
“Why?”
“You are cute and you like it when I am mischievous. With you I can be naughty and still not be scolded for it”
“But after marriage people have to cook food, wash clothes, etc. but look at your hands, they are so small. Look at my hands they are so big. We should be of same size to marry. So you should play well, eat well and study well and do me a favor. Try to walk with as much less limp as possible”
He went on to hold my foot and showed me the best way I could maintain balance.
“Then when you grow up I will marry you. But you don’t have to be very quite and sober. You can be playful and naughty. And don’t tell your mother or aunt about our friendship. Let that be a secret”.
“My mom lied to me and so did my aunt. Are you lying to me? Should I believe you?”
“You have to remember that to make me happy you do not have to be very good. But you shouldn’t limp more than it is required of you. You should walk with good balance. I will be going away after some days because I belong to a different place, but you remember me and when you grow up and your hands are big, legs are big you will know I was not lying. Ok. Go now they are looking for you”. He patted my head and went away.

I walked towards my mother and aunt with a big smile knowing they had lost control over me. I waited for her to say ‘Raja will not marry you’. But somehow that little talk had made me feel happy from inside. I slowly became less naughty and less mischievous. I would sit there and exchange smiles with my friend for some time. One day he told me his exams were over and he was going away and gave me few chocolates. That was the last I ever saw him. But I am still walking with less limp now. I just lift up my left leg a little to maintain balance. I don’t jump and land down anymore. I developed a special love for chocolates and if I am not buying books with the money I earn, then it is chocolates.

(PS: I could have been aged between 6-7 yrs when this incident happened but it is still well carved out in my mind)

THE BRAVE SOLDIER

SALUTING ALL THE SOLDIERS OF THE WORLD....

There was a stern look in his eyes
His shirt was torn and his chest bare
Fire of war was raining from the skies
Yet nothing was capable of giving him a scare
He has seen a secret enemy camp
To his regiment which was danger
His mission was to destroy it
All alone went forward the brave soldier
He crept slowly like a cat
In midst of enemy he threw a grenade
Before their eyes anyone could bat
The way clear for his regiment he made
But yet, a wounded soldier survived
As a patriot he too had to play his part
For revenge his heart too thrived
And with great struggle he put a bullet through the brave heart
The soldier died his mind at peace
For now he had completed his mission
“Freedom for my country” was the last words of his
From his heart flew less blood and more patriotism
Uncared and unknown … the soldiers died
For protecting the freedom of their nation
Losing her best treasure their motherland cried
For a patriotic heart is God’s best creation.

2/11/1984

I was inspired a lot by stories of brave soldiers in my childhood. India has had her wars and this was my tribute to the soldiers who lost their lives back then …. Thought of sharing it with everyone on the veterans day.

Awards Again... We are wonderful people... ;)

Thank you Alice first for being you and for creating a wonderful blog site for us ..secondly for the awards you have given me. Alice is wonderful blogger and if you are not reading her blogs you are missing much from blogspot. Pay her a visit and you will know what I mean
Alice



Take this and paste it on your site



As with all awards they come with rules, so here they are:

1. Thank whoever gave this to you

2. Copy award

3. Post it in your blog

4. Tell us 7 things that your readers don’t know

5. Link 7 new bloggers

6. Notify winners of the award with a comment on their blog

7. Keep being awesome!


Now here is my seven choices:
Jeff



Betty M



Plainolebob



Mike



Gloria



Mothers always... BM



Dina



SEVEN THINGS ABOUT MYSELF!

1) Even though naughty at times I was very good and obedient student who never missed assignments. Topped my classes most of the time. Had great respect and love for the teachers who made a lot of difference in my life. Most of them were Nuns.

2) Being provoked and troubled only brings out a fierce temper from me rather than tears.

3) I have accepted death as a reality and fact of our life which we cannot do anything about ....No cribbing about it now.

4) I was one of the top runners from my school even with my club foot. Thanks to my physical trainer. I love games and fun parties.

5) I do not find myself related to any religion. I have strong faith in God and pray often but my prayers are often made by me...(though at one time I was thinking of becoming a nun LOL)

6) Most of my dear friends are half way across the globe...

7) My kids are the most important part of my life followed by parents, husband, siblings, friends, family etc.

TEAR

Tear Drop

TEAR

When in my eye like a drop she will appear

Don't look down upon her calling her a mere tear

Of the pains inside me she is the daughter

Born in my heart when it was under slaughter

The news of her birth reached me as my heart bled

As an infant she was salty and coloured red

As my emotions lept up towards skies

She slowly traveled upwards to reach my eyes

Traveling on this hard road she lost her colour

And made her appearance like a dew on a flower

She had changed now, her colour was at fault

But her taste was unchanged and still tasted like salt.

White lies....

“Your thoughts are so mature. But you look so small. Can you tell me how old are you?”
“I am 10 yrs old.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I am always sure of everything. As I told you I am not very silly. I hate the question ‘are you sure?’ don’t ever ask me that again”.
“O.K. I am sorry.”
“It is very rare that elder people say they are sorry. They always argue they are right even if they know they aren’t. It is always children who are wrong. They don’t even know they are lying when they are. They think they can get away by saying anything because children will not remember and will not understand. But I do remember and also understand. And I hate them for lying and cheating me.
There was this particular incident which taught me that I can’t even trust my mother. I don’t want anyone to assume that my mother is not a loving person. She is loving, caring and giving. At times she tries the easy way to get out of situations and gives me wrong information. Actually she does not want me to ask all questions which no one has asked so far.

This incident has made a great impact on my life. Would you like to hear it? Actually I want it to be secret forever. I don’t want anyone to know about it. I don’t think I should have done what I did. But somehow now I feel I can tell you about this.
I was very small then. It must be few yrs ago. I wasn’t in school. We were a family of five. Mother, father, my maternal aunt and we two sisters. There was a man about whom my aunt was obsessed of and wanted to marry. Usually she would talk about their marriage and how much she loved him etc. I used to be present when this family discussions were going on. There were questions from me as to what she wanted to do? What was marriage? so on. My family would be pestered to the end of their patience by me. They had to answer me so that I would shut my mouth. So in the end I had enough information to know that if some person finds someone who is pretty enough and good enough for them, then they want to be with them forever and to be with someone forever they have to marry them.

Time passed by and one day I saw a young man who looked very cute. I just knew that if there was ever going to be a person with someone I would like to live forever then he was the one, because he always used to smile at me and wink at me when he found I was about to play some prank on someone around me.
My parents would often take me to a quite place called Prashanti Nilayam in hope of getting rid of my disability. He was a student of Satya Sai College and the students were all supposed to be there in the ashram along with the followers of the holy man. The place was boring for a naughty child like me so I started playing pranks on people around me. They would always try to keep me quite with sshh shhhh shhhh………. But when they were engrossed in meditation I would start playing my pranks. I enjoyed troubling all those people who were sitting there so engrossed in meditation. I would pile up sand on the pallou of a lady meditating in front of me because when she would get up the dirt would get into my aunt and mummy’s eyes who were right behind her and they would close their eyes for sometime and then they would check out each others eyes and blow into them asking ‘are you feeling better now?’ By the time they got the dirt out I could just hide somewhere to scare them. That was the punishment I meted out to the people who made me sit quite for long hrs. That usually worked out. They would look here and there call out my name in whispers because they weren’t supposed to talk aloud and desperately decide that I have been lost and it was then I would come looking for them from my hiding place. I would get shouted at and then I would decide I will do it again to teach them a lesson. I loved telling them tales of how I got lost. Sometimes it was I went by with a lady with same color sari which my mother was wearing and then realized I was with wrong person when I saw her face. I would tell them that I was very very scared. Another time it was I heard someone calling my name and rushed to find out some strangers looking for some other child and so on. It was amusing they never realized I was lying.

Being there for the girl and letting her vent out...

I picture myself sitting out there in the school grounds and imagine trying a dialogue with the little girl. How would the conversation go… I can recall my own response to people. Wonder why I was so rude most of the times. Was it the bitterness of being born with a club foot?

If I could go into the past then the following conversation would have taken place for sure. GM is the grown up me and the LM is the little me.

GM: Hi. How are you?

LM: Fine.

GM: Can we be friends?

LM: No

GM: Are you afraid of strangers?

LM: No

GM: Are you afraid to talk to me?

LM: No

GM: Can we talk? I would like to talk to you for some time.

LM: You are grown up. What can we talk about? It will get boring.

GM: Do you talk much with the children around you? You seem to be very quite sitting out here alone

LM: I don’t talk much with the children because they talk about everything silly and also they don’t clearly say what they want to. They are so afraid to say many things. And with the elders it is that they think I will not understand what they are saying. I hate the silly talk they give. They are so foolish thinking they are fooling me. I just pretend to believe them. Whereas inside I know they are liars and they don’t mean what they say.

GM: What makes you feel all the grownups are liars?

LM: They do lie a lot. Don’t they? Especially, when they want to have their way with me. Initially they tried to instill fear in me by talking about the dark creatures and devils and God. But I am not a fool. I am not afraid of the ghosts. But I did play my part on them. I made them run scared by making my own tales of seeing ghosts. And also I take advantage of them by escaping doing chores I don’t like by saying I am scared to go there or to do that.

GM: I see you are happy now. You are smiling and that’s makes you look so cute.

LM: I am not cute. My elder sister is cute and beautiful. At home everybody says that. And she too is so proud of her looks. Takes so much time to dress up herself. You know I have a disability in my right leg. I can’t be cute. Can I?

GM: Hey! Come on dear. Who says so? May be your sister is cute but that doesn’t mean you are not. I know you have a disability but then that doesn’t mean you can’t be beautiful. You manage to walk and play with a foot which is not properly developed and that proves you have ability and not disability. Beauty is something which is not just having straight limbs and pretty features. It has lot more to it. You will know when you grow up. You are really a wonderful child and everybody has to accept it.

LM: But they don’t. No is one happy with me. Why? My mother weeps on my birthdays, saying I am older by a year now and still I have not come free of the disability. I really don’t like that stupidity in my mother. How does she expect the disability in my foot to just go away without my parents doing anything about it? We do need doctor’s help to get cured isn’t it? But these two silly people have come to a holy man so that he will work a miracle and I will be cured. I am not sick to be cured. This is a disability involving my bones. But they say miracles do happen only one should have strong faith. I just hope by some miracle they will become sensible and give me proper treatment and help walk like everybody else. There are some children who tease me by limping like me. I feel so hurt inside then. But I never give them the pleasure of knowing they have hurt me. I can’t help it then when I hate my parents momentarily for being so stupid and not making my life better for me. I have just found out that people appreciate very much the kids who are good at their studies. Good marks mean appreciation. So now on my aim is to score good marks. I need to be appreciated. God could have been more generous with me but he hasn’t been. I have to work to be appreciated. Whereas, my sister or kid brother do not have to work hard at all. They are loved for the way they are. She for being cute, the first child, and he for being a boy. All I get is sympathies which I hate so much. I don’t want to be looked down upon like a helpless little child. I am not so. I am in many ways more capable then other kids of my age. Still they cry over my fate. I feel guilty at times of making my parents sad and being a problem child to them. But I can’t help it. Can I? So I will now try to make them happy by scoring good marks in the coming exams. I know I can do it very easily with little effort because I can memorize and understand everything so quickly. I will try to be less naughty. I don’t want to throw tantrums to seek attention anymore. I will concentrate on books now on. They are very interesting and there are a lot of them around. I love the stories and incidents they tell me. I love books because they are same to everyone. They impart the same information to everyone who reads them without discrimination.

That is not what actually happened, but I know trying to talk to me would have been the same no matter who was trying. Trying those dialogues with myself seems to have worked out. I could see the way I was looking at things back then. Growing up was tough on me. It was not easy.  Let me how this continues to be. 

Lifting the curtain

Lifting the curtain... An introduction to weird me

Like with everybody else, the main problem with me was; when the major decisions were made, I was gullible and open to wounds. When I had to make a beginning I lacked experience, courage and intelligence--- the knowledge we acquire through the lessons life teaches us. I was just a small girl very upset with almost everybody (especially God) because I felt they were being unfair to me. That girl of my past who is still upset is affecting my stance towards life today and also sort of forcing me to make the decisions to please others. It is time to find her talk to her and stop her from interfering in my present day affairs quickly for the time is running out. I will not have many more years left to find out what ‘I’ truly am. How God originally created me before all his other creations started meddling with me. So I start on journey to meet the skinny, dusky, very naughty, mischievous, disobedient and haughty little girl through those memories which have left their trace in my mind. There are few good memories and few bad ones. Both of them have a very strong influence on my present life.

Unfortunately I was a girl who unlike her innocent peers was smart enough to see, observe, understand many things and explain it to my elder sister and at times to my parents too. People around me were often ignorant of the fact that I was picking up every word they said, while appearing engrossed in the toys or books. So I knew way too many things of what was happening around and that wasn’t good for me. Let me find out how I felt back then.

May be I will understand my childhood better now because I love little children and have learnt to relate to their emotions. I love children without looking for the reasons to love them, may be in a way to compensate for the lack of love I felt in my own childhood. I love them because they deserve it, no matter how they are; smart, silly, tall, short, bookworms, lazy, girl, boy, naughty, disobedient, skinny, fat, mischievous……. No matter what label is attached to them, I love the kids. So I should be able to help my disturb childhood.

Back in my childhood, the school was the place I loved the most. In my memory, I travel back in time and I find myself sitting at my favorite spot and wondering about something, lost in my own fancy world. Not knowing there are people moving about throwing amusing glances at me wondering what such a small girl could be thinking so deeply.

 I never appreciated interference from people, as I always considered it an intrusion into my private world. As a result, I was never considered a friendly type of girl.  People had trouble talking to me. There was no conversation; it was either my tongue and their ears, or, arguments and debates. Seldom had I normal, casual conversations with people.

The Disabled or abled?????

Man goes in search of troubles, tribulations and problems in the name of adventure, investigation, discovery etc. But when they come in search of him, he just cannot accept it. Why?

Working in the same environment, staying in a same place is not acceptable to anyone. Everyone yearns for a change. Even then, when they see a person who is not like everyone but different in some way, they cannot accept that person easily. S/he is labeled abnormal. Why should a person be called disabled or abnormal just because one (or more) vital parts of body aren’t functioning to the maximum? I feel the word differently abled or special is more suited in this situation. I haven’t come across a person who will fit perfectly into the category ‘Normal Person’. Before finding a perfect normal person I cannot say a certain person is not normal.

It is same with the term handicapped. Who is without any handicap? Who can proudly thump his/her chest and declare ‘I have no handicap at all?’ Most probably, no one. Yet a certain person is branded handicapped just because you can point out exactly where the problem is..

I had come across a blind man in my early childhood. He was standing under the banner ‘Physically handicapped’. Yet he could travel to his place of work every day and almost do everything what the so called normal persons would do.

Once my college-mate said she was going to see a special professor on some topic pertaining to her studies, as no one had been able to make her understand it properly so far. She was afraid she would fail in the exams if her doubts were not cleared. I went along with her because it was boring for her to go alone and she pleaded with me for my company. When I saw the professor, I was shocked. He was the blind man I had seen traveling to work and admired all these years. I wondered how a blind-man could be better than the professors we had in college. When she asked him her doubts, I was in for more shock because he was very highly intellectual person and so eloquent. His explanations were quite simple and even I could understand what he said though it was not what I was studying at that time. He changed my perception forever. He gave me more confidence in my life. He will never know that even after many years a girl who had visited him looks up to him for inspiration. He is one of those strangers who have made a difference in my life without realizing it.

My visit to him had set my mind thinking. On what basis can a blind man be called handicapped? Here was a man without sight who had learnt to read so well, whereas we have many who have sight and books but cannot read. They don’t want to read. As I was pondering on this question my mother who had called me for the fourth time came over. I asked her the question (she always dreaded when I tried to ask her a question?) ‘Why is a blind person called handicapped?’ She heaved a sigh of relief because this was simple question for her to answer, normally my questions were neither simple nor had any answers, especially when I was not responding when being called. “Simple, because they cannot see”, she answered. She saw I was not satisfied and walked away because she never wanted to answer my questions. But I could not stop the questions coming in my mind. How good are the ones with good sight to understand what they see? How much do we see around us? How many times do we correctly perceive what we have seen? How good are we at looking into our own faults? We all go blind when we have to find our mistakes, faults, shortcoming etc. How often are we touched by what we see? If we honestly answer these questions, we will sure realize how limited our sight is.

If a blind person who has no vision (Am I right in saying so?) has developed an alternative sense to replace the void created by lack of sight, I feel he should not be labeled disabled person but a highly enabled person. He is viewing something without the help of eyes. His way of seeing an object would be touch, sound etc. We do have the senses what he has but we do not use them just because we have eyes. How many other senses and abilities are being lost in us just because we have the privileges? Later on as the chapters of my life unfolded and I was supposed to bring up a special needs child I realized how spoiled we are.. how we take for granted the sight, speech, hearing etc. Time for me to wake … and be grateful.

The award ..... Love all of them!

Thank you Alice for the Award... You are a wonder

Why should I pick only 5 of them???? I admire most of my blog friends. I think we cannot repeat the winners so have to leave out Mike, Alice, Bob etc...

So the winners from my blog are

Jeff

http://sci-teach912.blogspot.com/

Dina

http://homeschoolingwithjack.blogspot.com/

Betty

http://cutand-dry.blogspot.com/

Mr.Poo

http://mydirtytoilet.blogspot.com/

Lena

http://it-is-all-my-world.blogspot.com/

Of course, as with every Bloggy Award, there are A Few Rules. They are, forthwith:
Each Superior Scribbler must in turn pass The Award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends.
Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author & the name of the blog from whom he/she has received The Award.
Each Superior Scribbler must display The Award on his/her blog, and link to This Post, which explains The Award.
Each Blogger who wins The Superior Scribbler Award must visit this post and add his/her name to the Mr. Linky List. That way, we'll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives This Prestigious Honor!
Each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on his/her blog.

http://scholastic-scribe.blogspot.com/2008/10/200-this-blings-for-you.html

Of course, as with every Bloggy Award, there are A Few Rules. They are, forthwith:
Each Superior Scribbler must in turn pass The Award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends.
Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author & the name of the blog from whom he/she has received The Award.
Each Superior Scribbler must display The Award on his/her blog, and link to This Post, which explains The Award.
Each Blogger who wins The Superior Scribbler Award must visit this post and add his/her name to the Mr. Linky List. That way, we'll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives This Prestigious Honor!
Each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on his/her blog.