Scream – Flash 55

The Scream. By Edvard Munch

I woke-up from a nightmare... I was trapped in a room full of snakes. Throat burning, took a stroll down the dark corridor to get a drink. Suddenly, I felt something climb-up my leg. My blood-curdling scream woke the neighbors up.

It was a frog. Embarrassed... hope for poisonous snakes the next time I scream.

***

P.S: Time- 3.00 am. Wrapped up my studies and went down-stairs with half open eyes. The dark living room at this ungodly hour was serving party for a couple of nasty frogs hopping about our house. Stepping on their squishy bodies and having them jump up on my feet in retaliation was not the kind of thing to be expected at this time of the night. I cursed loudly, but they were just frogs. And for all I know, they might be cursing me too for the intrusion. Nonetheless, decided to scream my head off in this F-55!!

EXAM DIARIES

Needless to say, the stress and the apprehension regarding studying the right subject for the right day (it may sound stupid but trust me, sometimes it’s better to keep checking the time table every hour in a day, coz you never know when you might get the dates and the subjects wrong!) and not to mention, clearing one’s mind from all the impending “doomsday” thoughts like, writing wrongs answers for the right questions and writing right answers for the wrong questions... exams... I’ll just come out and say it; it’s just a bloody pain in the arse!!

One day before the BIG EGGJAAM.

Consider me. You have seen my picture on my blog page right? Keep that in mind and now imagine a girl wearing really shabby and ragged clothes, her hair oily and unruly (and even smelly if she decides to skip taking head bath for the fear of falling asleep on her study desk for hours and hours!). Well that ghastly image my friends, is me at my worst during these painful exam days.

Just yesterday, I was in one of my “best” ragged and torn salwaar suit. Weird I know, but these are called as my “shabby exam cloths” and without which I just can’t seem to comfortably sit in one place and even attempt to study! I’m a very careless person. I forget all the dieting I’m supposed to be doing and end up consuming more food than necessary (I call it, “the nervous exam diet”).

So yesterday evening, after waking up from a nice pre-study slumber, I was in the kitchen, all set to prepare my favourite food during all occasions: MAGGIE. While I was shedding tears as I sliced the blasted onions and pretended to be this woman who cries for no reason (one should touch upon one’s acting skills while one is shedding free tears!), I heard the door bell ring and some unexpected guests decided to show up at this unruly time (unruly for me as I was stuck in the kitchen, in my shabby clothes, teary eyed and overall smelling of onions L ). Okay, definitely not an avatar I’d like to present myself in other than my mom, dad, granny and bro.

Even amidst this sticky situation, the first thought that came to me was “Thank god, I didn’t put the Maggie into the boiling water”, because the thought of sharing my precious Maggie (while my hungry tummy growled with rage) with outsiders was more mortifying than going out the kitchen and facing them in my current get-up!

As the guests were being loud and chit-chatty with my mom and granny, I took some time to groom myself to appear like a normal girl and not a complete cave-person. Not much of a progress, to tell the truth. So abandoning the sinking ship I braced myself and walked out to the living room.

An aunty and an uncle were sitting on the sofa and when the uncle saw me, he looked taken-aback for a bit (or maybe that’s how I thought his reaction was, as I would always get a shock to see myself in the mirror during these treacherous times!). But he’s a friendly chap and asked me whether I was done with my education. I told him solemnly that my exam was tomorrow and I was battling for a war at the kitchen. He said, “Good, good, nice food always helps and best wishes for your exams”.

Next I turned towards the aunty and she looked like she would faint if she looked at me again so she didn’t say much to me but instead, showed her many jewelleries she wore to my mom and complained loudly, “You know, we roamed around a few wrong streets until we finally found your "little" house! It’s so dangerous to walk in the night in this area. And the streets are so confusing here. Our (big) house is so easy to spot in Bangalore”. 

While my mom politely nodded her head in agreement, I wanted to get up and rip the woman’s head apart. First of all to any normal person’s eye, my house is far from being called as “little”. It’s no less than a castle to my eyes! And this lady keeps visiting our house with her husband four to five times in 3 months and yet she complains of getting lost in this unholy fashion. But my saner mind warned me to behave and not think like a barbaric cave-girl and so for politeness sake, I sat and listened to her stupid ramblings for 10 whole minutes.

My stomach was growling loudly at this time and my head was starting to ache and I couldn’t bear to listen to her shrill voice anymore (I was thinking on the lines of interrupting her by saying, “Auntieee, shhhh”). And so, when I was sure everyone was happily ignoring me, I got up and literally ran upstairs.

I couldn’t study in an empty stomach. Gah! More wastage of time and I had already wasted a lot of time that day. And so, to while away the time i.e., to wait for the beloved guests to take leave, I opened my MS Word and started writing all these things. I wrote only about two paragraphs and then ended up listening to songs while reading other blogger’s entry to the Lakme contest (But this, I don’t call as a waste of time, never!).

Finally, after an hour and a half, the guests took leave and I came tumbling downstairs and straight to kitchen like a tornado to finish my unfinished business of preparing delicious, steamy, hot MAGGIE. And before my younger brother, would come and ask me to share, I transported all of it to my room and locked myself safely and for next 2 hours, enjoyed savouring it slowly as I watched a thriller movie called “GONE”. So much for wasting my time right?

Once I was done with all these, sudden realization hit me that I had just about 12 hours for the exam next day. So had no other escape but to study and occasionally, check my mail for any more votes for my previous post (really, it’s all new to me, getting so many votes and all... I feel as happy as eating a candy whenever a blogger votes for me!).

On the EGGJAAM day

Two hours to go and still 2 more units to look upon and memorise the important stuff. Time to shed my shabby clothes and get into the even shabbier college uniform (Don’t ask, ours is the one of those engineering colleges that has made uniform as a compulsory attire. Miserable dress to wear!).

Not my best day today. The subject seemed too tough to even memorise or mug-up. In a desperate attempt to add some luck to this doomsday, I scout my dresser for a pair of lucky silver earrings that I always wear during the days I feel everything will go down-town and after 15 minutes of searching, I finally found it. Now mentally I felt a little satisfied but still logically I was still in truck loads of trouble as I hadn’t studied everything completely.

On the way to my college, I passed a temple and every time I pass it, I pray to god regarding something or the other (just to be on the safer side!). During college days, I would pray to god to give some sense to some of my lecturers to behave like adults and leave students like me alone. Other than that, my favourite praying topic is to ask god to keep my mind active so that at least, I can happily write a poem or a story during class hours. But today, as I passed the temple I solemnly prayed to god, to clear my mind so that I can write the best answers possible to the questions I knew and to extend some special ability in me in order to create beautifully carved nonsense on my exam booklet for those questions I had no idea whatsoever what the answer was!  

As accustomed to my constant antics, I arrived at the exam hall 7-8 minutes late (last minute studies, you see!). I caught my friend’s eye and we smiled at each other. And while I was smiling at her, this was what I was thinking, “Look at her, she has studied so much that she has come to the exam hall on time. Am I the only one who hasn’t studied well today?”

And while my friend smiled at me, this was what she was thinking, “Look at her. Always cool, composed and as usual late to exam hall. I bet she got more time to study. No message from her for two days. And no sign of her on facebook too. She must have really gone underground to study well this time.”

But the truth as you and I know, I was just being my lazy, stupid self for the past 2 days!!

The after effects of seeing the question paper for the day!!

When you know you are screwed up and nothing can stop you from it, what can you do at the most? I’m definitely not the type who runs from the exam hall on seeing the semester’s toughest question paper. Nor am I the type that ends up silently crying upon seeing the ugly paper set by an even uglier examiner at VTU. Instead, uncontrollable laughter started to engulf me. For the first 15 minutes of the exam all I did was stare at the question paper and laugh (inwardly) while struggling to control my lips from turning upwards and creating a scene in front of the invigilator.

Once the initial shock and laughter had left me, I got more composed and this time got down to business. There were quite a handful of questions to which I knew 70% of the answer. Fair enough! I can build up passable content for these things. Then my eyes drifted to those questions I had no idea they even existed in this subject. If time would permit me, I decided to use my old tactics: repeat the same answers but twist the words and make them appear like they are new answers. It works most of the time. Whoever corrects an Engineering paper, looks for the amount of content written i.e. how many pages a student has filled in the booklet. If I have managed to fill at least 20 -22 sheets out of a 42 sheet booklet, I'm well on the safer (passing) side. For more details of of my tactics, check this.

From time to time, my eyes swept the exam hall. All my classmates seemed to be writing beautiful answers with energetic composures. I knew then that I was the only person who had a sure chance to flunk if luck turned its back upon me.

But in a strange way, I believe luck is still with me today. As soon as the exam got over, I saw all my classmates (even the toppers!) complaining how tough the paper was and everyone were silently looking up to the sky and praying that they at least get the golden 35 (passing marks).

At one hand I was relieved everyone had performed badly and not just me. But on the other hand I was (and still am) feeling apprehensive that if toppers started to get the golden 35 marks, then would that leave me any passing chance?

Strange how my mind works at times. And even stranger how I’m writing about all these at this time of the night, instead of getting some sleep so that I can study well tomorrow. There’s talks of Bharath Bandth (Nation-wide strike) on the 31^st and if that is the case, my exam the day after will be postponed and I’ll be left to deal with that subject after the other papers.

Desperately hoping for the strike to take place on the 31^st. Else tomorrow I’ll be rubbing my nose in yet another text book.

***

P.S: This is not a figment of my imagination. All the characters, especially the character portrayed by me, are true and very real. Any resemblance to others’ lives is truly joyous and I welcome those people with wide-open arms to join my lonesome rank during these tough times!!

Find yer man, woman!!

I just couldn’t help it today. I had to watch a movie.  But not just any movie, I ended up watching the movie of a spinster who writes colourful tales about her love-life in her small diary and hence, very rightfully it’s a movie that goes by the name, “Bridget Jones Diary”.

Apart from the witty and humorous British dialogues and the many viewings of Bridget’s colourful panty closet that ranged from huge grandma panties to some sleazy animal printed ones, I couldn’t help but appreciate the task a single woman has to handle all her life, just to get the right man.

Is there even such a thing as a right man? Even if there is or “are”, how would one know who that bastard is? They are everywhere- firstly in every spinster’s dreams, then on the various television channels and then there are a few from work, some old college friends or even a few school friends for that matter and not to mention the many handsome faces one eyes on the road in general.

But these men are like mirages. They look too real and even reachable from a distant but if a girl even loses her place and falls for such flashy stuff, she sure is gonna realise that what she “thought” is real, is indeed fake.

Ultimately, such befuddlement would often lead to the usual heart breaks, teary nights, excessive eating and emotionally moronic behaviours that would in-turn lead to some scruffy embarrassments on the outward public eye. But Bridget Jones faced all of it and still found her guy at the end. How Charming!!

If this turned out to be true in real life, I wouldn’t be sitting here and writing this stuff for starters. Yet I’m a fan of the movie. Because not even in the movies these days they show an average looking, slightly fat woman, working in some average job, leading an average life, do her thing in order to finally find and accept her man.

All thanks to the jazzy, flashy entertainment industry, there is really not much of a centre stage for average looking women. Entertainment has its protocols to get their T.R.P’s or whatever the hell they strive for these days. But very quickly even the real life is turning into reel these days. It’s a bummer most of these jazzy protocols apply more to women rather than men. But that’s that and can’t be said or done more regarding this. It’s a pity, really. One woman’s necessity is another woman’s horror show!

Now coming back to Bridget, finding a man is no mean feat. It’s a bloody task indeed. One cannot enact a fairy tale by sitting in some chamber and waiting for her prince charming to arrive coz F.Y.I, they would never arrive!

Bridget Jones (Renee Zellweger), a 32 year old spinster decides to take matters into her own hands and ends up appearing at her work place in vanishing mini-skirts and see-through blouses and as planned, gets her boss (Hugh Grant) follow her around with his heart throbbing at all the wrong places! Funny how the world works! If a woman is “seeing” someone, then other men (who ignored the same woman initially) start to show more attention towards her. So that’s how Bridget unknowingly manages to get her nemesis’s (Colin Firth) attention towards her.

It’s a cute movie and an excellent time pass to watch it but how much of it can be brought about to real life? “How Bridget can you get to nail some handsome guy!” the risk involved in the very task of finding a right guy or just any guy for that matter, is imaginably grave. But heart wants something the mind doesn’t appreciate.

So if one is all set to take matters into one’s own hands to find their man, then one should also be ready to face all the atrocities and humiliations when one has thrown one-self very publicly to a mountainous task called “Find yer man, woman!”.

Now the question is “How much embarrassments are you ready to endure in order to find a right guy?”, “Is it even really necessary to enter such dangerous gamble in one’s life?” ... tough questions, but I don’t like taking unwanted risks in life unless it’s really exciting. I always had a heart towards adventure but that was regarding innocent mountaineering or hiking. Now, this is a very different kind of adventure and I’m not so sure how cut out I am for this, to tell the truth.

But if the end results of entering such unknown duels in my life would lead me to be surrounded by similar versions of smirky Hugh Grants and gentlemanly Colin Firths, then why not?!

Sigh, dreams I tell ya, they ruin you!!

P.S: With exams just a few days away, this is what I end up blogging about!! Guilty! ;) 

The NOT so IPL-ish TALE

Ever since my dad got transferred back to Mysore, there seems to be an added competition at home when it comes to who gets the T.V remote. During the days when dad was in Banglore, when it came to the remote, I used to fight with my granny (ajji). Ajji is one tough cookie. She watches nearly 10 serials/soaps a day. Now, I’m not complaining. She deserves to relax as she is the one who feeds us with her deliciously cooked food. But there are days when I feel like watching some T.V myself. And all my primetime shows gets clashed with ajji’s never-ending soaps. But that doesn’t stop me from catching at least a few minutes of my shows "in-between”. I’ll be waiting eagerly with the remote in my hand, hoping for her exaggeratedly ridiculous T.V soap to arrive at an Ad break and that’s when I grab my opportunity to quickly surf the channels that I want to see. Even though it’s only for a few minutes before ajji would say “Haku” and mono-syllabically remind me to change the channel back to her precious elastic band soap (I call them elastic band because, they elongate a single story plot to such an extent that the story looks stagnant for a period of about a month!), I find peace in the fact that I got to watch some T.V that day. And sometimes I shamelessly end up enjoying ajji’s soaps too but I never give her the satisfaction that I've enjoyed it as I keep retorting in-between as to how ridiculous the characters are!

That’s how mine and ajji’s daily routine was. But today when I came downstairs at prime-time to catch some T.V action, I noticed an extra competitor ready with the remote in his hand to change the channel the moment ajji’s soap entered an Ad break. My dad grinned at me and purposefully waved the remote in my face before he flipped the T.V to show some IPL action. “Ugh, now I have to endure cricket too”, I grumbled in a low voice before seating myself on the sofa with an air of resignation.

When it comes to cricket, all I can do is just doze off. I just don’t have the required interest in it. I always felt amazed how those people seated in the stadium are able to sit through an entire match. Forget the test match, even an ODI takes forever to finish. And hence T-20 looks like a mere game of 20 minutes to the hard-core fans. But for me, cricket means slow-moving of time. I just don’t have the patience to sit through an entire match. And so here I was, sitting and grumbling and occasionally (despite the non-interest) asking dad who the captain of Delhi Daredevil was. I had forgotten how fun it is to watch a cricket match with dad around. He makes the whole game look like its being played by a bunch of clowns. He always has something funny to say about each cricketer. So I chucked the broodings of missing some of my shows today and I realized that I was glad to have my dad back as I really missed his funny quips on daily basis.

After sometime, dad dozed off and started snoring. By then, his funny quips and interesting insights on the cricketers playing that day (DD v/s CSK) got me glued to the IPL fever and as the match looked to be in the favour of Chennai Super kings, I wanted to see if I was correct. Ajji, seeing that her son had successfully dozed off, happily and stealthily tried to change the channel back to her precious soap. “Ajji, naanu nodthidini cricket na. In en match mugiyathe”, I told ajji that even I’m watching the match and asked her not to change the channel for some time. Now it was my granny’s turn to grumble but nonetheless she obliged and surrendered me the remote.

Now, I knew that Chennai would win today. So I ended up observing some “off-field” stuffs that I had failed to notice till now. Whenever the cricketers were not batting or bowling or fielding, the camera took interest in the crowd. Apart from frequently focusing on the dancing cheer-leaders, the camera-man made sure the entire nation got a few second glimpses of all the pretty and charming damsels present at the podium that night. This was no surprise as IPL is built for only 3 things: “Entertainment, entertainment and entertainment”.

But what made me laugh were the different reactions that would dance on these pretty faces whenever they noticed that their face was all over the big-screens at the podium. One girl laughed with triumph and ended up jumping up and down with hysteria on having seen herself on the big-screen. Another girl bravely faced the camera and gave her most charming smile. And some ladies would plainly ignore that they were being shown on the big-screen. 

Apart from the cheer-leaders and the random pretty girls that they captured on the big-screen from time to time, the camera-man made sure even the men got some action. And so he zoomed-out and made sure all the men were seen on the big-screen “at a time”. Poor men, they looked like they belonged to a band on monkeys. They indeed acted like monkeys, jumping on one another just to make sure they could briefly see themselves on the big-screen. No doubt, they would go home that day and tell their mothers, wives and children an exaggerated version of how they got captured on-screen for a long time!

In the end, despite myself I had to agree that this IPL, though flashy in many ways, is fun to watch now and then. Apart from the usual cricket, I liked observing the people present on the stadium today. I don’t think they would ever get bored if they are seated in the podium. Firstly the cricket in itself is such an exciting fever to have and celebrate when they are in the stadium and secondly and most importantly, the mere excitement and the expectancy of having to see their face on the “big-screen” (may be even for a second!) is also an exciting feeling to have for any die-hard cricket fan.

Image source- google.

CAUGHT - Flash 55, #2

She saw them waiting eagerly at the end of the road. She couldn't reverse her scooter as the road was one-way. Her eyes desperately searched for an escape en-route. Saw a narrow alley and swiftly turned right, adrenaline pumping her heart. Alas, their wing-man waited even there. She was caught for not wearing a helmet!

Okay, this has happened to me several times. Well not exactly. Every time I get caught by the traffic police, I pretty much ride right into their trap. There is no adrenaline rush that would make me take swift decisions to escape from the wrath of paying 100 bucks for preferring to let my head and hair enjoy the "breeze" while riding!! Lemme count. Over the last 2 years, I guess I have been caught about 5 times (equals 500 bucks!!) for riding helmet-less. Thankfully, all my other vehicle documents were intact, else I might have ended up paying way more than a 100 bucks!!

When I first got my license to ride a two-wheeler, pretty soon I got into my first helmet-less incident. When the police uncle tried to stop me, I being a scardy cat, slowed down in terror. When he saw how scared I was, he turned his attention to other law-less riders as he was sure that I would park my vehicle and dish out money. But that day, the other riders who were caught, egged me with hisses "Hey, don't stop, GO, GO, GO!!" , and so I neatly obliged them (though shaking from head to foot) and gave the accelerator of my Dio to its full extent and despite the shrill sounds of blaring whistles that followed me with an authority that I should stop, I managed not to dare and look at the angry police uncle's face through my rear view mirror and ESCAPED. My very first adrenaline rush at breaking a rule and getting away with it!! 

I know, my moral compass is twisted but who cares. These police men, they catch people for not wearing helmets even near their homes and make them pay fine and use that money for their own personal use (which probably involves getting drunk at the end of the day!!). But not every policemen are like this. But most of them are (even policemen are humans and its a human tendency to go against set rules now and then!). 

I wish I was this lucky the other 5 times I was caught at different places in Mysore (I could have bought a nice dress with 500 bucks!! :-/ ). Now-a-days riding without helmet would probably make you pay 500Rs as fine. Yep, they have increased the fine. So, better be careful. Helmet is itchy and heavy and irritating and makes my forehead sweat, but still I can't deny that it did once protect my head when I fell off my vehicle by accident!! I still hate wearing it, but the thought of losing 500 bucks makes me stick it ruefully on my head, every time I head out of my house!!

P.S: This was intended to be just a Flash 55 but I got a lot of stories up my sleeve where ever my vehicle and helmet are involved!! :P

Red Bus mattu (and) Rash Driving

Bangalore is filled with compressed-air powered red buses. I love these buses. Unlike the old blue buses, these red buses look a lot like Volvo and yet they are “common-man“ friendly and hold a lot of space inside the bus for travelers to stand comfortably during rush hour. But not all of these buses get good bus drivers. I've had near fall out experiences once or twice while I was travelling in one of these huge buses.

Compressed air-power buses have a lot of power in terms of speed as well as brakes. Sudden braking makes the bus going at any speed to come to a halt within seconds. But the full impact of it is shown inside the bus. Passengers sitting don’t have to endure much problem. But the one’s standing gets its full impact.

I was lucky the other day. I was standing near the pole. Both my hands were busy holding my wallet and in the process of taking out money to pay the bus conductor. Suddenly the driver hit the brake and the bus moving at 80, came to a sudden halt. My whole body was thrown forward but my sudden instincts directed my hands to hold fast the pole and with a backward twist, I got the required support and saved myself from falling down head first on the floor. I was so angry at the driver, but since I hadn’t fallen I didn’t feel the need to go and start a boring quarrel with him. Minutes later I got the seat and I happily settled down with ear phones and music. My friend, who was sitting behind my seat tapped my shoulder and said loudly with a snigger, “Neha, when did you learn to pole dance? You are pretty good!!” I turned back to retaliate and saw that her words had carried to the men’s section and many guys were nodding in mock approval. “I’ll get you for this girl!!” I growled at her laughing face and turned back to see the driver, who was happily singing and hitting the brakes roughly at unnecessary junctions.

The bus was getting more and more crowded at every stop. All the ladies were standing precariously. Poor women, they had no idea that they had just mounted a bus that was being driven by a moronic driver. And then it happened. Another one of bus driver’s signature “sudden brakes”. Two ladies standing beside my seat toppled onto one another, causing the third lady to fall down on the bus floor. This was followed by loud shrieks and a high pitched quarrel could be heard loud and clear even through the loud music from my ear phones. The ladies were blaming each other for falling. They should scold the driver who is the root cause for causing this catastrophe.  I thought angrily. But I caught the driver, happily waving to a fellow bus driver and totally oblivious to what was happening on the bus behind him. Was he really oblivious or was he showcasing “jaana kividu” (a Kannada phrase which means, “smart deafness”) to the din that was taking place behind him?? I had half a mind to get up and hit him in the head and then smugly apologize  by telling the “brakes” had caused me to “accidently” hit him!!

Thankfully my stop arrived and I was the first to literally jump out of the bus with relief. As I saw the red bus making its way through the narrow crowded road showcasing its power speed and power brakes, I almost felt like I had just gotten off the knight bus from the Harry Potter movie. It happens only in India!!

Boys and their Precious Bikes

Courtesy:Google images

I can never come to understand completely what it is that makes literally all the guys (the cool ones, the strong ones, the smart ones, the geeky and nerdy ones!!) go mad when they see a fancy blazing bike. I mean the amount of undeviating devotion that pours from the soul of every guy just surprises me to a mundane extent.

“You are so ignorant, how would you know the real thrill of riding a Ducati at a 110, go back to riding your silly Dio and never ask me such infuriating questions such as ‘why do you like bikes’”, is one of the irritating answers I get from my brother (who has personally never ridden a Ducati himself yet acts all knowingly as though he came up with that bike!) when I ask him, “why do guys act all heartbroken when they see a fancy bike?”. Did I just get word-slapped like that Mentos ad?? (“Mentos kao, dimaag ki batti jalao!”)

google images

I mean, come on it’s just a machine guys. All it does is rotate its wheel at different accelerating levels and transport at most two or three people from a source to destination by drinking in petrol like a thirsty camel!! Is it the hair-rising speed that makes all the guys go “god-dammit I gotta ride one of those beauties!”... I guess I got my answer. And probably the shape of the bike plays its role too. Modern bikes have a high raised passenger seat which gives it a “cool” look but it’s not at all a comfortable back seat to be able to sit on. They design the seats in such a way that if a girl sits there, she should have no other choice but to hug the bike rider (I see they have removed all the safety side handles and stuff ...just for the “thrills” as they call it!). Either that or the pillion rider should have their arms flailing around like a helpless monkey while the rider takes his “beauty” to a dangerous speed.

google images

Bikes are no longer just some transport vehicles. They are the new fancy expensive accessories that every guy wishes to flaunt. Just like how all the fashion-obsessed divas like to flaunt about their new pair of D&G bags and high heels. Bike designing is no longer seen from a point of mere consumerism. It’s the new art. The art of designing bikes is equivalent to any Picasso or Da Vinci art. Guys are so obsessed with the new designs and all that self-art stuff that they worship the whole process of bringing a newly designed bike to life. I love art and so any form of art is appreciated by me, be it a crazy looking green bike like this or that monstrous looking bike from the movie ghost rider.

I came across this picture at Facebook and it clearly states the amount of obsession that a guy holds for his bike (need I say more!!). Girls are secondary when it comes to their bikes. They’d rather worship the bike. But have you ever wondered why guys want to flaunt an expensive, fast bike. “It’s for the thrill of the speed” are the usual lines I hear from them. Yeah, yeah... but deep down, they want to attract the female crowd. “To impress a girl”, is about as bluntly as I can put it. It’s the mediocre purpose of every youngster’s life. I know at this point all you guys might be gearing up to come back at me with your defensive speech but let’s face it, if a guy gets a new, shiny 500 cc (or whatever it is!!) bike and doesn’t hear a compliment from any of the eye-lid battling girls, then that’s such a heart break isn’t it?! :P

Anyway jokes aside, bikes are cool. I have never personally ridden a bike but I have gone on some cool journeys by sitting safely behind my friend. I hate too much of speed, I guess I have a little phobia or something. But other than that, I enjoy being a pillion rider on a bike (though I don’t like climbing and sitting on the back seat, it feels like I’m climbing a high compound!!).

 So guys, do buy your favourite accessory coz you have every right to flaunt your style and taste just like how we girls flaunt our accessories (I’m referring to bags and shoes of course ;) )... But my only advice is: “wear helmet and drive safely”.

***

Forgotten

Forgetting important things has always been a passive habit of mine.

Often when I travel, I get this lingering feeling that I might have left something behind.

Really, sometimes I just wish I could forget forgetting for once.

Generally, I forget to pick up my mom from the grocery shop.

Of course she can’t reach me through my cell-phone.

That’s because I’d often forget to recharge its battery too!

Ting tong! Wonder who that could be?

Evening MOM, I know I forgot again, sorry... (That's one angry mom!)

Now, where was I? Oh, forget it... ~waves a white flag!!!~

P.S: Just to be clear, I never forget to pick up my mom from the grocery shop!! 

Shared with:

Once upon a Dentist visit.

     Me, my teeth, and the braces!!

                                                           


                                                           A space in my gums,

                                                           I reserve only to you.

                                                          Oh, fill this empty space!!

I was singing on this tune before my milk teeth began to fall one by one. The events that followed this simple natural course of nature made me wish I had no teeth in the first place.

(The sequel of the above haiku will appear in a few lines below. And so this was how it all started. Read below...)

The one place where fear overwhelms to create ridiculously weird and scary thoughts inside my head goes to none other than the “dentist shop”. As a kid, I hated going to the dentist due to the following experiences:

Age 7: Usually milk teeth fall off at this age giving space for permanent teeth to grow. But in my case, two permanent front teeth were growing  right behind the milk tooth and as a result, dad took me to the dentist shop to get the two front milk teeth plucked off!! “Ouchy” experience I must say (including the injection that they give to numb off my gums, but who’s going to numb the damn pricky injection!!).But I got my reward in the form of a big tub of ice-cream, which made me forget about  the pain the next instant!!

Age 9: Turns out my permanent teeth were a wee bit wider n larger in size than all my little milk teeth put together. Extra space was needed to get them aligned all straight and normal. To prevent letting me out grow my childhood with a crooky tooth set and later torture me with braces, my mom took me to the dentist lady again and by her prediction, I was growing four extra teeth that would create a problem if not removed before hand. So there I was, strapped to the dentist chair, screaming my head off as if I was about to be fed to some dark monster. There was no way I would let them prick my gums with injections again!  As a result, I was introduced to a local Anaesthetic Injection, right to my wrist and I was put to sleep. I woke up hours later, with cotton balls stuffed into my mouth and the unfortunate “plucked” tooth were laid to rest in a plastic box. I remember burying them in our garden later. Talk about cremating one’s body part at such a young age!!

Age10: I entered the dentist office, shivering from head to toe for more pricks and plucks from the nice dentist lady. Fortunately, this was just a general check up and she advised my mom to bring me back at age 12 because she suspected my lower jaw to be smaller in size to hold two other teeth that were growing their way out. So no plucking today! Two more years of bliss, I thought.

And so this is where I recite the Haiku sequel:

There’s no space left.

Stop growing, it’s not funny.

Sigh, Dentist here I come!

Age 11: For all you candy-obsessed, sweet toothers out there, your mom is always right when she shouts at you saying things like, “ no more candy for u”. Because, the end result of over indulgence of sweets (in my case, Boomer bubble gums!!) will always ends you up on a dentist chair. So here I was, yet again in the dentist shop, getting one of my bacteria affected molar teeth cleaned out and cemented by the dentist lady. Not only I had to suffer the pangs of pain during the procedure, but also had to listen to an earful of advices and scolding’s from both my mom and the dentist.

Age 14: Due to some trips and vacations, my mom forgot all about my appointment with the dentist when I had aged 12. To say the truth, I actually did remember about the scary appointment but I didn’t bother to remind my mom as I was happy to stay away from the dentist chair. But now being back at the dentist shop, the dentist took the dental mirrors out of my mouth with displeasure plastered across her face and told my mom that had I come two years back (as I was supposed to!), she would have removed two more teeth and that would have aligned both my upper and lower jaw with straight teeth. Now all that was left to achieve was for me to wear braces for about a year and a half!!

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO”;

This was the moment I felt like screaming at the top of my voice like some drama queen and running out of the dentist office for good measure.  All those years of painful misery I had to endure was to prevent this exact thing from happening, to prevent my poor mouth to be occupied by sharp, steely braces. Sigh!! Skipping one lousy year, and this was my punishment.

I resigned to let the dentist lady work her magic as she happily told me, “Say Aaa, Neha!!”, and I was once again reintroduced to the various dental instruments. Lesson learned: “prevention is better than cure”.

Presently, it’s been over seven years since my last visit to the dentist shop. And I’m still very happy to stay away from that place. Thankfully, my teeth are aligned straight as ever, and so I’m happy to smile freely without any awkward self-consciousness. And that’s the thing I'm really grateful for, given all the trouble I had to undergo during my childhood and early teenage life.

***

P.S: About a month ago, I did go to the dentist shop for a general check-up. As I sat on the dentist chair and stared at the light focusing on my mouth, I was reminded of all these "fond" memories and so thought of sharing it.

Submitted to : Haiku Heights Prompt#97- Space

Image courtesy: babysittersbungaloo