She-who-must-not-be-named again!

Categories content writing, humor, humour, ipd, sarcasm, storytelling

in continuation of – She-who-must-not-be-named

My first grade kept going just fine and I was really good at studies . peerlessly good , for the sake of precision . The teachers accoladed me every chance they got using every organ of their body to sing songs in my glory. I even remember scoring a 100/100 once .(true story!)

Plus, I was good at drawing the entire year except on the day of the “drawing exam” . We were supposed to carry colors and I was armed to the teeth carrying all sorts of them .
The subject to be drawn was ‘a fish’ , so I delved deep into my imaginary sacred space for a moment and came out with a rocking hellish dope of an idea . It was the dead little grey colored fish I had found lying in my garden in the wake of the rainy season (and it was the only real fish I’d ever seen.)

So in the entire foolscap sized sheet , I used as much space as Sri Lanka on a world map and drew a fish which rather looked like a sperm (since I was bent on making it ‘Life-Size’) . Gray was the only color I used and my teacher didn’t know what to make of it. She simply apprehended that I had used my pencil for coloring it as I hadn’t brought a set along and tiraded me till she went out of breath.
What she didn’t know , however , was that it was a fuckingly brilliant dead fish and taking into account my minuscule worldly experience , it was as good as it gets , and that I preferred being realistic rather than and  copying that same old trite exotic bullshitty made-up-shit-of-a-fish they show on elementary school books – the thoroughbred ones with 3 fucking fins and all the colors of the rainbow spewing through their holy bellies. Mine was frail , small and monochromatic . 
I never retorted because I thought it was unbecoming of me to talk back to elders on such petty issues.

As for She-who-must-not-be-named , I always kept mum , because back then ,while I’d just hatched out of my egg , no one expected me to have a girlfriend. Furthermore , I had no idea what to do about it.

3 : She-who-must-not-be-named again!

The senior girls , though , adored me like the scented holy poop of Jesus himself , playing with me , pulling my cheeks , tying shoelaces and carrying me on their laps cozying up and fiddling all the way while we traveled back home in the army bus at the end of school . Notwithstanding , never did I seem to enjoy it . Moreover , it peeved me up . Such naivety !!

Though I don’t remember her name , I remember the name of one of her friends. It was ‘Urvashi’ , as best as I can remember. I remember it, not because I was more interested in her friend , but because the only memory I have of something been said by her was something along the lines of – “….Urvashi ke paas hai” (it’s with Urvashi) . She said this while rushing out the classroom once , and for some reason , this was the last sentence I remember of her. So I remember the other girl’s name because of this faint memory of her. artless innocence yeah.

Soon we finished up with the first grade and were promoted to second. I wasn’t any different except that now we had to haul our asses right till the farthest end of the school where lay our classroom , in some butt-fuck, Egypt !
Our new class teacher , the pitiless hag ,had this odd habit of making kids sit on the floor when she found them up to any sort of misconduct, and it so happened once that I was busy chattering with my lads when a loud cry burst through the air – “come back and sit down!!”

I almost reflexively perched my bottom on the cleanest spot on the floor.
“not on the floor , on the bench” were the exact words and I remember them without any blemish . My face flushed red out of embarrassment and for the first time I wished she’d actually told me to sit on the floor itself.

That was when I realized that I did , though minuscule , have some sense of social standing and in hindsight , I reckon it was solely because of She-who-must-not-be-named.

The same cruel lady again had my self worth in smithereens when I committed some mischief and as a punitive measure she had my hands held tight by two guys and my face slapped . Slapped by none other than the high and mighty She-who-must-not-be-named . How come she knew I had  a crush on her ?
Her hands , though , were soft as cashmere and the texture sent me all hypnotized and the fact that she hadn’t actually hit me struck a chord . She’d all but caressed my cheeks which again , amounted to getting my hopes high .

But , the final curtain fell soon after .
I Pooped !

I pooped , that too in the just-inaugurated air conditioned multimedia lab vouchsafing myself the distinction of being the first human ever to poop in that AC lab. I had asked them if I could go poop . They said , in a spirit of play , “do it here if you wish to”. They had inadvertently summoned Satan himself . The Satan that poops. and OOPS ! they had no idea of my unfathomable naivety and the reynolds number of my poop action . Soon I was kicked out and found myself in the toilet . I tried to make up stories, but to no avail.

Later , a girl came to me and said – “the entire school now knows you pooped, my deepest condolences “ . She’d come to pay her respects .
That was the last straw , the final nail in my coffin . My entire fill of amour propre was broken to shards . I never mustered enough courage so much as to lock eyes with She-who-must-not-be-named again. I was crestfallen …. yes…. crestfallen .

At the end of the day , when I stood waiting for my bus , I overheard some Bengali guy say to his brother – “dada , ee hogg diya ” (“bro , he’s the one who pooped”)
Yea Bitch! I hogg diya ! so what ??
I lost some weight .
I’m the master of my own will , which includes my excretory system too.
I’ll live life on my own terms.

P.S.- That was the day I shunned the construction that Bengalis were a veritable human species.

read further : phobos and deimos


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