Peppy Blogs

I was so curious about the thin rectangular black box which my dadda carried with him every now and then. I noticed him with parted lips talking over it at times politely, sometimes harsh, and on the other times with so much love and happiness. I got confused recoking why is he chatting with a box and why is he feeling ire with it while it is always being silent! It was seen quite invariably. My mamma also had a box with an amber colour. Shortly afterwards, I came to a conviction that it's something very significant or some indispensable part of life.  Later on, I clocked an opportunity to touch it with my bare hands. I felt it as heavy in my little hands despite of its thin appearance. Just like my parents, I held it with one hand and drew lines here and there with the tip of my tiny fingers. To my dismay, I saw variagated hues sparkling over it with a vibration. Suddenly my mama snatched it from my hands. I was heartbroken and started whining. My shrill voice pierced