As expected Dear Popples did not make it to the short list of the Golden Quill award. Its brush with fame was short and fleeting. It did sit proudly and bravely for weeks next to giants but then got knocked off. Did I believe it would ever make it: I guess the heart did while reason screamed otherwise. Was there a tinge of disappointment: I guess there was, I am but human.
The story of a little poor boy written by a dotty old woman is not what is crowned and feted in our world. It is not a burning issue of today or yesteryears. It may touch your heart but only if you allow it to do so. Sadly many have forgotten how to do just that: look with their hearts.
The saga of dear Popples finds its genesis in the dream of a teenager. The dream was turned into reality by two beings: a small boy and a big man, both wonderful beings and surprisingly similar though you again need to see with your heart to see that! An unusual book launch was the culmination of the dream saga and then it was time to get off the clouds and get back to one's life. Dreams only last till the first knock of dawn.
Imagine my surprise when more than a year later I get to know that dear Popples has been nominated for a literary award. Time to dream again, even if it was for a few moments. And one did just that. Now things have again fallen in place, and dreams laid to rest. But the story of an extraordinary little fellow continues to haunt me and will do so for the remaining days of my life.