Memories of a 5th grader

Before you start reading this post, please scroll down and read the disclaimer (it’s in italics, grey) in the post right below this one πŸ˜€ (I’m sure you’ll have to read it for quite sometime from now on!)

My “online time” is lesser than the state’s monthly ration allowances! The maximum I get to do these days is open Gmail, open Orkut, open WP and then log out before I can do anything useful! I was succumbing to unknown mighty forces that are against me being online — and had almost become used to it…until yesterday!

A chat box opened up in my Gmail and asked “Remember me?” After initial moments of 😯 , I was thrilled! It was an old, old, ooooooold classmate. We shared a class, a bench and our friendship in 5th Std! And then we’d lost touch. A few years ago, when I’d started my Orkut account, I’d searched for her, but wasn’t lucky. And now, here she was.

We had a few long gaps amidst one liners…14 years is a long long time — and if you think there’d be lots of stuff to catch up on when you meet such an old friend, let me tell you, there’s none! πŸ˜€ We had no clue what to talk about…other than one-liner replies to “Where are you these days?” and “What you up to?” and the like. And well, if you think there’d be nothing to talk about after the first round of such awkwardness, let me tell you, you’re wrong! Hehe…we launched into a trail of “Do you remember whens” πŸ˜‰ . Oh God! It was the best catching-up I had had in a long time!

We discussed kho-kho games and falling-downs (I hated that game and would always end up bruised; so would she); we discussed about those irate teachers and our incessant chatting (apparently, once we both were asked to sit at two different seats, well away from each other because of our non-stop talking — and I started crying; being the true friend she was, she started off too! πŸ˜€ ); we discussed a few horrid male classmates with whom we’d always get into a quarrel — and I’d go marching to the staff room to complain, bring back a loud-voiced Sir and get them guys shouted at! πŸ˜‰

We literally laughed out loud discussing a classmate who never used to touch a girl, for fear of him getting pregnant! Ever if his finger brushed against a girl’s by mistake, he’d bring out his towel and rub “it” all off vehemently! (He’s with Infosys now, though I don’t know why I’ve mentioned it here πŸ˜€ ). Then there was this Anti-Love Association we’d started — 4 of us friends — against “love” (I still don’t think I was a voluntary member of that πŸ˜‰ )! Hehe…we used to snoop around, find all sorts of “couples” on campus — well, there was nothing much we fifth grades could do about it — bitch about them majorly! πŸ˜› There was also another secret society we were members of — but of what, we now got no clue! I only remember tiny visiting cards and a symbol on our thumbs (used to make it by dabbing ink onto the bottom of a sketch-pen and pressing it on out thumbs!)

Apparently, once those horrid male classmates pushed her off the bench and she landed “thud” on the floor, right with her bruise facing the floor. Well, we had our revenges too…we used to stone those guys during our every single badminton sessions! — psssttt…and get stoned by them too! 😦

The funniest of all was the recollection of her and myself on stage once — hair all done up and tied with colourful ribbons that matched our dresses — singing away to glory!! πŸ˜€

Anyway, it was a rather playful walk down memory lane…becoming a 5th grader again, even if for a few minutes, was awesome — and I enjoyed it so very thoroughly! πŸ™‚ Now, that once-upon-a-time little girl is a stunningly beautiful woman! I was shocked when I saw her picture — and gaped for quite a while! πŸ™‚

I’m so glad we’re back in touch. 14 years of fun we’d missed. Welcome back, Indu! πŸ™‚

The 1993 Grand Slam…

the grand slam...only, it wasnt a racquet in hand, and my dad wasnt in white shorts πŸ˜€

…was served by my dad — and received first, by me somewhere on the back of my right thigh, and after approximately 3 seconds, by my brother at more or less the same spot on his πŸ˜€ !

It was some time in April 1993, during our summer holidays! We used to live in this awesome house set in the midst of 1.5 acres of white sand and lush greens…in the then little town of Guruvayur! I was 8 then (my brother, 11) — a naughty, impish girl who used to create havoc within the house all the time, and when thrown out, amidst my brother’s friends! πŸ˜€ .

We considered ourselves the luckiest among my cousins (who all lived either in crammed apartments in huge cities or in little rooms put together in 2 cents of land and called a ‘house’!) πŸ˜› and I used to walk around singing praise of this beautiful house and the space around it.

All sorts of pranks, mischiefs and tomfoolery were allowed for by dad and mom. “Ee praayathil nalla akramam venam pillerkk”, they used to say (It’s the age when kids should be naughty). πŸ˜‰ We used to dress up the poor cow in its own dung; we used to hide behind bushes and throw huge, but dead, Eveready batteries at poor Raman Nair, the old-man-with-bracket-legs, who used to look after the trees and the soil spread over 1.5 acres; we used to steal mom’s starched sarees from her cupboards and make tents with it (we thought she never knew!); we used to pack pepper leaves in small packets and throw it on the road, catching some poor betel chewer unawares! We used to go to the temple every morning just to get the yummy prasadam; we used to make mud-pies (i actually tasted one!) and serve our friends; we used to play lagorie/seven-stones (i used to get badly hit by the guys!); we used to catch thumbis and then guilt-ridden, let them go; we used to build tents and make dad inaugurate them, urge him to step in (every time, it would be too low for his height, too fragile and would collapse over his head) and blame him for the destruction; we used to frolic all the time in the wide, deep pond without the slightest fear — until I drowned once! But that was never an issue. I decided never to drown again…and we continued our swimming adventures πŸ˜€

Didn't quite have the time to notice dad's expression...but am damn sure it was something like this -- an evil grin mixed with surprise, anger and that just-up-from-sleep blankness!

The only thing NOT allowed: we were warned never to scream while dad was asleep. And that’s just what I did that day in April 1993. πŸ˜€

We were playing police and thief. When it was my turn to be thief, the ‘police’ came chasing and I ran for my life (and loot)! Went rushing into the kitchen from where mom shooed us out. The only place left for me to run into was my parent’s bedroom…and, forgetting the fact that dad was enjoying his after-lunch nap, I let out a blood-curdling scream and ran into his room. By the time I’d half-circled across his bed and reached the other side, he was up! The first thing he got in his hand was my grandfather’s walking stick.

I ran, he swung. The timings clicked. That aristocratic-looking smooth, 1-inch diametre stick kissed me — violently on the backside of my right thigh.

Silent. Breathless. Motionless.

Too late to realise, my brother pushed me ahead. Dad swung it high again. My brother found himself in exactly the same spot I had been approximately 3 seconds ago. The timings clicked again. Apparently, the stick was highly confused in matters of sexual interests! It kissed him too! πŸ˜€

Silent. Breathless. Motionless.

We both strode across the huge hall, entered our room, locked the door, went to our respective beds, pressed our face down into our pillows — and screamed in pain!

Some slam it was! Oh my god! I felt like I was a sheet of crumpled paper that had been floating around and suddenly settled down in a fire, flames licking at me with their rough tongues!

My dad never hit us ever again. In return for that favour, we never screamed while he slept. πŸ˜€

Now, tell me this — do you have a ‘hit’ story that can beat this one (no pun intended) ?

P.S.: In 1993, the Grand Slam was Steffi Graf’s too! The US Open, Wimbledon and French Open πŸ˜€

i’m already missing it all…

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Yesterday was my last day at work…and well, everyone made it quite fond and memorable…

Mine could be termed ‘one of the best last day’ in Resource…hehehe…yea, probably they were all charged up to throw me out. But what they dont realise is that I liked it so much that, shameless that I am, i’ll definitely go back for more πŸ˜€Β Β  Well, its not even a matter of choice. I have to go back…like i’ve mentioned here.

I went to office yesterday wearing the same dress I’d worn on the day i first joined! Though the dress was red, i felt blue 😦 .

And then the pranks began!

I was sitting peacefully in my room, typing away goodbye mails to clients (esp the good-looking male ones πŸ˜€ ), senti mails to colleagues and a respectful one to the bosses–when a dozen CDs came flying into my room and landed all around me! For a minute, i thought it was some kinda alien attack…! (what with the bomb blasts and all that…one never knows πŸ˜€ . I heard footsteps running away…and from the tiny tremors, i knew it was Harish! πŸ˜€

The number of blank utalks that kept thundering onto my screen was screwing up my typing speed as well as the spellings in the mail!! When i begged them to stop, they started typing “dont gooooooooo” and sending 50 at a time again!!! And then it all hung!

And while i’m frantically trying to save the loooong mail (i never realise there is a ‘save’ option unless its always too late), another wise guy walked in and said ‘Excuse me”, pushed my chair (and me) off, calmly shut down my system and walked off! And then i heard laughter from the studio!

Then again comes along another guy and starts shooting thick, hard cardboard pieces at me using a rubber-band! He had the aim a guy who’d drowned a dozen shots of vodka would have! Thank God for that!

Sometime later, Rajeshwari came and slyly took my desk phone off the hook and started to leave! If i hadnt actually seen her do it, I’m sure someone would have said they’re trying to call me. I’d have freaked out to find the phone missing.

The last straw was when one among the bosses said “we’ll charge you for water after 5.30…we’re very strict with guests” πŸ˜€ πŸ˜€ πŸ˜€ I was very near tears!! Everyone in office was bonkers yesterday…hiding behind walls/doors and springing surprises at me with “Booo” and all that! Popping into my room every 5th minute to say “last day…”

Oh god, the amount of noise i made in that office yesterday is unpardonable by normal norms πŸ˜€ ! But i had to keep shouting and screaming “shut up”, “i’ll cry now”, “nonsense”, “madness is happening” and a lot more! Coz i wont get to do all for a looong time πŸ˜€ πŸ˜€ πŸ˜€

The party was yummmmmm….:D πŸ˜€ πŸ˜€ and the speeches amazing…at the end of it all, i was speechless!! Clutched the bouquet close to me and slowly walked out the door…and in the distance, i could hear the song “All my bags are packed, i’m ready to go…” float around.

Its been hardly a day since i left…and I’m already bored…wanna go to office!!

those smells…those songs…and…… those memories!

Ever wondered how the most inconspicuous things in life bring you memories that matter most? Like a smell that reminds you of a certain day or place…a song that pull you into a time machine and shoots you back into the past…a scene from an ad/film that reminds you of a similar day/situation in your life…i dont know how many of you experience this and how often…but i do…almost everyday, all the time! Sometimes i wonder if i have a future at all πŸ˜€ …i always seem to be flitting between the past and the present πŸ˜‰ .

The other day, i heard the song “agar thum mil jaaye” from the film Zeher, i was so reminded of the concrete paving at the park where i used to spend time with 2 lovely friends of mine in Dombivali, Mumbai. We used to go there every evening around 6…and just sit there staring at stars, guys and the love-bit couples who always used to find seats behind the board that said ” ” (yes, you guessed right; it was in hindi, which I don’t really think i read right)…

Then there is the feeling of getting wet in the rain…no matter where I am, i’m always reminded of GOA, PVR and Krishh…that day we were at the beach–my bro, ma best friend and my sunshine–we had so much fun till it started pouring heavily, and we had to rush off to PVR for cover. Wet from head to toe, we sat inside that freezing theatre, watching the worst film ever made!

The sight of the “next” electronics store reminds me of a broken foot and 100s of Mumbai’s foot-over-bridge steps that i crossed with it!! Oh the fun we had that June!

Tin Tin comics remind me of an Alliance Francais classmate whom i hated!

Barista reminds me of a slapstick joke that made a friend spurt out a mouthful of coffee over the clean walls there!

Odonil reminds me of a long-back crush!!!

All films that have babies and adoring parents remind me of Amma and Achan…and i wanna go home…to kerala…trivandrum…ooooh…i so miss them…i soo love them too!!!

Best of all: there is this weird smell (not a stink)…i dont know how to describe it (wish i could attach it to this post)…know what it reminds me of?? hehehe…you wouldn’t guess! it reminds me so much of my playschool bathroom!!! Hahaha…no, i repeat this isnt a stink. It was this squeaky clean place (where i used to spend most of my time to stay away from ABCs and I23s…)

And posts like this reminds me of my Alzheimers…i dont know what i’m writing…i logged in to write something i really wanted to let you all know…but it’s totally slipped ma mind…am not in the best of ma senses, i guess…missing home beeeeeg time….sorry for a bad time, guys! Imagine you never read this, please! πŸ˜€

P.S: This post will be edited and re-posted when the “senses” are bac πŸ˜€

There’s more….coming soon!