1.When I was at school I had this habit of remembering all the ‘big jokes’ that my friends cracked and would wait to run home to tell everyone. However, Papa comes from office at sharp 6:00 pm everyday (I don’t know how this happens so accurately) and I would wait for him to join so that I don’t have to repeat the big ‘joke’. Now I start off, with Papa,Mummy and chechi listening with a seemingly interested expression on their faces. I complete the joke, and burst into an aggressive clatter (laughter, in my words). Papa and Mummy continues to keep the earlier expression thinking that the ‘funny’ part of it is yet to come.
2.I have a set of Winnie the Pooh stickers with which I frequently blackmail my hubby saying that if he doesn’t take me shopping I am going to stick it all over his bike. Although I am damn serious about this, he keeps the aforesaid expression (as in point no 1).
3.Papa always keeps a watch on me and my closest circle of friends. Once he told me, that my friendship with one of the girls in the gang is going too far and that girl is not so good to be best friends with. To this, I commanded him to stop all friendship with his best friend, who was working with him at VSSC for the past 32 years. Finally this girl about whom I was warned about , put me into an acute trouble which I was not involved or aware about, and had me in staff room half a day proving my innocence to the teachers. How did Papa know this earlier? GRR
4.My sister,was an absolute contrast to all my behavioral traits - silent, soft spoken, attentive and possessed all the blessed virtues of a student. She had the best grades ever at school.I, poor little underperformer (comparatively)bore the wrath of all the staff and at times,had teachers sarcastically pointing out disgraceful comments like, ‘Are u really Anjana’s sister?’ ( What the hell does she mean by the word ‘really’ here?)
I tell you, having a studious brother/sister/cousin in the same school/college/office ultimately makes you feel like a celebrity!! Each and every piece of news will reach your parents before you reach home!!
5.When the school bell rings for lunch, my friends and me run out of the class like a swarm of bees, to play the most popular game, ‘Touching the wood’. Five minutes before the bell rings, we run back to the class, almost at the speed of light, open our lunch boxes and gulp down whatever is there. We were some 10 or 12 naughty girls, and washed our hands conveniently through the window of the class, as the bell rang for afternoon sessions. The teacher came in and caught me washing hands through the window. All the other girls escaped and started staring solemnly at the teacher like heaven’s little angels and at me like I’ve done some grave, unforgivable crime. She had me write, ‘I will never wash my hands through the window of my class’ and get it signed from THE GUARDIAN. So I waited for the guardian (my Papa) to come back from office. I thought, ‘After all, this isn’t my progress report. So he is not gonna be mad at me’ (progress card was the only reason for my dearest Papa to be mad at me, and I cursed my own ‘progress’ because of that). Finally Papa came and I delightfully gave him the piece of paper to which hell broke loose.
Me: ‘Papa can u sign this for me..?’
Papa: ‘What the hell is this? Inspite of signing your report card, I have to sign this also! I never sent you to convent school to study maths and social studies. I sent you there to learn manners and discipline..! God what a blessed father I am!!’
Me: Papa please..papa.. She wont let me enter the class without your signature.
Papa: I love your teacher.
Me: (Burst to tears) Papa please…
Papa walks away.
Next day, Papa accompanies me to school ..the controversial piece of paper on his right hand, my ear twisted in his left. The teacher ( who looks more like the ugly wicked witch now) greets us gleefully and narrates a set of complaints between which I noticed that she was using the word ‘chatterbox’ too often. Papa tells her, (my ear still twisted, developing a permanent twist now), to write whatever complaints she has about me and inform him immediately ( I still hang from the tip of his fingers). I saw the rarest of sights – heaven and hell at a glance- heaven by having my little ear supporting my entire body from papa’s fingers, the ear twisted cruelly for around 20 minutes, and hell , with a gang of teachers and my Papa teaming up against me like demons.
6. When we were in tenth standard, slam books were the ‘IN’ thing, and all of us had one. During one of those days, Miss.N was in a hurry, and got another classmate Miss. A write in her slambook… Miss.N kept pestering her 2 complete it fast and Miss.A scribbled something. The slam book had a hell lot of illogical, unanswerable questions like, ‘your fav color? Dress? Movie? Actor? Actress? Villain ? director? Producer? Makeup man? Cleaner? ’ and other bull shit.
Miss.N came home and started reading the slam book.
It went like this..
Most Unforgettable Moment:
“I don’t remember!!’ Miss.N realized she should have given Miss.A more time.
7.One day I was traveling in a KSRTC bus. As you all know, KSRTC buses are in perfect condition (haha), and are never crowded (haha )due to ample buses (haha) in each route (haha). My sister, even if she gets a seat doesn’t sit if I am still standing or she wants me to sit on her lap. However, I made her sit in one seat and acted very comfortable standing. Im sure she was having a hell of a time sitting there with my school bag on her lap, which weighed more than me. I was standing next to an aunty, who looked approximately 125 kgs, the bus kept crawling at 20km/hr, and I kept praying earnestly that she gets down soon. Finally God answered my prayers and I saw her helping her butt lift up from the seat as if it was stuck to it, and her thin and frail arms (!!) leaning on the seat in front. I rejoiced. As soon as the entire butt disappeared from the seat (my eyes focused on the seat and partially on her butt), I immediately placed myself there, and it felt like a football ground for me. I can only remember a roar of laughter from my sister and the passengers at the back. Aunty only leaned forward to take her ticket which had fallen down. Fortunately, God had more years ahead for me to live that she dint land on my lap..!!
8.Another day, my tuition got over at 6, and papa told me to come home by bus. I gave a warning signal in the morning itself, ‘Papa , unless and until u pick me from the tuition class I will not come home’. In the evening, I kept my promise, and waited outside the tuition class knowing clearly that papa is not coming to pick me anyway. My tuition teacher was however kind enough not to let loose her ferocious dogs (wonder why she needed dogs for security, she herself was dead scary). Papa sensed a 0.01% chance of me staying at the tuition teachers house and she in turn, complaining to the police about the menace that’s outside her class since evening. So Papa set out to pick me in scooter. I was delighted to see him, and got onto the back seat. However, at PTP nagar, a dog suddenly ran across and we landed up in the nearest hospital.
9.I had a cat during my school days and I was very fond of her/him. I still don’t know whether it was a male or female, but our maid chechi confirmed that it was a male ( I guess it was because it had a moustache). My sister hates all animals/insects/birds/human beings(selectively) and of course was not very keen in touching or feeding my cat. However she never does anything which hurts me. Dinner time, we are all around the table and kitty dear is near my sister (although I am its authorized local guardian). My sister, sissy as she is, gives all the fish in her plate to my kitty, and the kitty in turn gives them to its mother cat (who is a bitch of a cat, immoral to the core and is a permanent resident of the back side wall of our house). Sister dear later understood that kitty was taking advantage of her dinner, and stopped the entire fish outsourcing business. Talk to my sister now about my cat and you can see real wild expressions!!
10.When Mummy screams at me for talking too much on the phone during study hours, I pick up the remote and press the mute button at her, and the series of domestic violence is triggered.
11.I remember my sister crying and wailing like hell when she found her ‘hero pen’ in the freezer. She and Mummy still believes that it is me. Papa, however, has no doubts about it.
12.As I was comfortably sitting on the sofa, with my leg cozily hanging itself on the armrest, I had Papa telling me to hang it on the fan. How cruel!
13.My Mom has this disease of cleaning the house in regular intervals of microseconds and expects every little thing to be kept at the places defined by her. She gives us hell if we rub a piece of crayon or pencil on the walls. During those frequent catastrophic events like, a fight with my sister, I end up losing it all by being the first one to cry, and the biggest punishment I give her (eventually to myself) for hurting me, was to draw senseless pictures of mountains, sun, moon, stars, crows, children (whose arms and legs apparently look like they were born with polio) on the wall, and write my sisters name specifically below in caps. This name-mentioning at the bottom itself clearly shows that it was me, and I get an additional dose of parental harassment and my sister escapes giggling.
14.Arguments with one of my close friends at school eventually leads her into uttering curses like, ‘Anita, you will get married to an old man who is a native of Uganda, and there you will give birth to quadruplets’. This statement pissed me off regularly, and I usually end up picturizing my wedding album.
15.During five minute sleep breaks on the previous day of university exams, I get nightmares like: dozing off till the morning/ink of my pen getting over/getting short term memory loss/dozing off till afternoon and waking up to see my friends discussing the questions/my Mom coming as the invigilator/losing the hall ticket/ and the like.
16.Papa has this habit of snoring. There are several humiliating incidents of him snoring at the back seat of the church during Sunday mass, and people looking around to see, where this exotic music is coming from.Often, we had our neighbors (who stay atleast 2 km away)say that they too can hear his snores from their bedrooms ( I know that was too exaggerating for anyone to believe, but our neighbors are very creative and have a wild imagination). On some days I watch movies like ‘manichithrathazhu’ and get horrified. Even the telephone ring sounds like the magical inkling of nagavalli’s anklets. So brave as I always were, I prefer to sleep in Papa n Mummy’s room. The snoring starts almost immediately, which not only deprives me of my sleep, but enhances by innermost fears of Nagavalli appearing in the bedroom. Mom seems to sleep peacefully as if some lullaby is being played in the background. However, I fell asleep and got nightmares which when told sound amusing to others. Large, out-of-the –world type dinosaurs near our house, bawling and groaning out of hunger, and chasing me to death. I puff, pant and sweat from head to toe.
I open my eyes, see Papa snoring away to glory, Mummy still with the aforesaid expression. I take my pillows and all the other little things which people rarely sleep with, (book, water bottle, around 12 pillows) and get back to my room. I realized that Nagavalli was less scary.
17.HE (hubby dear) wears a mixture of AXE and Brut deodorants, applies hair gel for half an hour in the morning, sports a French beard, uses only branded shirts, pants, socks, upto the shoelace, and drives the car with music on volume 15 and still expects me to wear a sindhooram!! Good joke!!
18.If a spoon/fork/hairpin/safety pin/tv remote/rubber band/Vaseline is missing/misplaced, Mummy screams at the top of her lungs, ‘Where is Anu?’ Of course, not bothering to find it out herself. But most of the time she succeeds finding it by performing the above mentioned activity.
19.There is a plan to go to the church/beach/restaurant. The plan had been there for the past four days. As I cozily ease myself out on the sofa, my face covered fully with the fancy square shaped cushions, I hear the sound of shoes. Papa is dressed in a shirt and pants, shirt tucked in perfectly, and has the car key in his hand. He stares at me with anger and disgust. However I can’t figure out any language from facial expressions. Mummy also comes and joins him, dressed in a neatly ironed cotton saree. Sister is already there, you can’t really make out whether she is ready to go out or not. I look at them surprised. Then everyone walks out uniformly, uttering in seemingly low voices:
Papa: “Enikku nerathe ariyamayirunnu’
Mummy: “Aval varunnillengil venda..ivide irikkatte
power cut aavumbol
padicholum’
“ Ningal vandi edukku… avalodu njan 5647645 times paranjatha
dress cheyyan”.
Sister: expression of agony
Who? When?
I race to my room, wear some dress, carry comb, lip gloss, hairclips along so that such activities can always be done in the car. Simultaneously everyone gets into the car and the horn is sounded for the entire district to hear. The whole of neighborhood now knows that everyone is going out and I am applying ‘makeup’.
I am always blamed for having studied in a convent school without knowing the basics of punctuality!!. *sob*
Hmm… more grievances to be added…. *sniff* *sob*
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