This is Doris.
Out of all the wonderfully wonderfullest 20th birthday presents I had the pleasure to receive (Aww thems, Bangkok Baybeh, yummy drunk cake etc), Doris is the only present who is a living, breathing person. The moment she was presented to me – around a month before my birthday – I knew that the part of me that had waited for her for 10 years or so, had finally clicked into place. Till then, I hadn’t realized that there was a part of me who was meant to only love Doris, and everything she created.
Doris enjoyed a Business Class flight from Bombay to Abu Dhabi, where she caused much grievance to my father’s unfortunate hernia (Doris hasn’t been on a diet or exercised for a while, so lay off) Despite his protesting hernia, my father smiled an appreciative, almost reverent smile at Doris when he was introduced to her, and understood immediately that she is one of those people that are a "thing of joy and beauty forever."
For months, Doris sat sadly on a shelf covered in her dust jacket, lonely and with no-one to talk to and nothing to see. Nonetheless, she’d brighten up realizing that for the first time in many many years she belonged to someone, who would eventually come home and take her out of her dust jacket. Jackets are nice and all, but very unnecessary in these sweltering Abu Dhabi summers.
As predicted, I eventually did come home, and as soon as was humanely possible, I ripped her dust jacket off and rested her on my shinily new white roll-top desk, where she sits happily, knowing that she possesses a place of utmost honor and that despite apple green walls, and bookshelves crammed with books, she is the most beautiful being in the room.
She basks in the knowledge that the happiest rays of sunlight touch her everyday, not too harsh and not too soft. She has also made friends, the best being the tiny crystal ink pot and quill that rests by her side, and the impossibly happy papier-mache daisy who tells her tales of my past untidiness and my newly-found tidiness, tales of my friends, and tales of all the other mean/happy/kind/nasty beings in my room (like the BumbleBee box, the Victorian chest, and the wobbly IKEA bookshelves)
All in all, Doris is happy.
And she says "clickety clack" to you, and you and to you too.