Dear Book Borrowers,
All these years, whenever you came to borrow books from my little growing library, I have never been reluctant to give. Sometimes, I gave the most precious ones(in terms of the work) even for indefinite periods. Today, you have driven me to make an awkward conclusion- I am not lending books anymore! Never again knock at my door with that smirky smile to hunt for books. It is downright distressing to see the way my books were treated under your sloppy and indifferent custody.
Where is the lustre of the pale white pages ? Where are the razor sharp edges ? Where is the life that dwelled inside the cover ? What you have given me back looks like a dull, uncombed baby with broken spine.(Well, you did not even give it. I had to dig it out of your room.) Why don't you have an iota of decency in handling them ? They were given to you for the sole purpose of reading. They are neither pillows nor kitchen tables for you to crush and spill your favourite curry.
If you think I am making a big fuss out of 'not a big deal' thing then please dump yourselves underneath a pile of rotten veggies and shattered glass and let me know how it feels. I am sorry. I am way too possessive of my books-my love and I do not give a damn if you are cussing me for such a boorish and impolite behaviour from my side. Books are my biggest wealth and I am not letting anyone steal or mutilate the accumulated treasure.
Don't you dare touch my books again!
Annoyed and irked,