living with psychotics and neurotics(part 3)

it was one of those days in which the entire group was feeling lazy and just, well... hanging around. we were all sooooo exhausted (don't remember why) and we thought of simply sitting in the common room after dinner. we were lazily and idly talkin about, well....nothing important. as a few minutes passed by, the other girls (who were as jobless as we were) started gathering around. when the crowd became...well.....crowdy, we thought of indulging in something we all would enjoy (since we were the senior most batch in the hostel it was naturally our responsiblity to entertain the crowd). amuru, the most popular and lovable personality among us in the hostel, steps forward and volunteers to imitate the way certain girls in the hostel walk in the most peculiar way. while she prepares to start "walking the ramp" many shout out names of the girls having the most funniest walks....all off us laugh uproaraiously while the girl being imitated at the moment steams and blushes. from somewhere i hear my name being called, but it somehow doesn't strike me as anything odd. after having imitated one of the teachers none of us were not particularly fond of, amuru starts hopping like a grass-hopper. i laugh my heart off and loudly ask, "who on earth walks like THAT?!!"....the crowd around me roars and i realise that it was me amuru was imitating...for a moment i was shocked...MY GOD!! that's how grass-hoppers would have marched to war!...i then get back to my senses and playfully shake my fist at amuru...aaahhhh! who cares, i've got people who like me for who i am....and that's saying much....

WHO SAID THE YOUNGEST IS THE MOST PAMPERED!!??

i still very clearly and vividly remember the times when i was a little kid and my smart big bro and big sis used to always be the "know-it-alls". poor me used to always lag behind, be it tasks that required cognitive work or motor skills. i remember the times we used to play catch-catch with my cousins, and when nobody used to bother even trying to catch me because they thought i was incompetent (i'd be trying hard to run fast when it is so obvious that with the speed i'm running with, only a few lazy steps towards me is enough to catch me). when at the end, the unfortunate catcher feels too tired to chase anyone else, he/she will jog towards the terrified me and..... "caught you, ha!". well, i can't really say that it sucks to be the youngest. when time goes by, you get the chance to watch your siblings grow, see the mistakes they make (although everthing will seem very confusing at that time), observe the way they accomplish wonders (my bro and sis were my biggest role models), and at the end, be one of their best friends. there are other small rewards ofcourse. i remember when i was tested for my speed in one of the lower classes, my PT teacher stared at me in wonder- i was easily one of the fastest in class without any "training". well, i knew my secret...i "trained" myself during those sweaty moments i played catch-catch with my older siblings....

living with psychotics and neurotics(part 2)

this is my normal routine on days when my hair proves to be too difficult to manage- i sit back and watch everyone dressing up for college. In the midst of all the bustle (what with all of them wanting to look into the same mirror at the same time, try on the same new lipstick,....) a friend looks at me and asks me to atleast comb my hair. i grin back at her and say that i've already tried combing it twice. she then gives me an exasperated look and goes back to her make-up while i think to myself, "what the heck! who cares..."

WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF FANTASY (part 2)

were there times when you've looked at yourself in the mirror and pretended to be someone else...someone you've admired a lot (be it fictional or real)?... my latest obsession is eowyn, the niece of the king of rohan, from the lotr movie. i must say, the scene in which she kills the nazgul and the way she bravely goes on with life and finds true love after arargon gently turns her down is sooooooooo inspiring! (i hate girls who pamper their wounded hearts after some dope ditches them and act like as if it is the end of the world. i mean, c'mon, get a life!). infact i like her even more than i like arwen (if i've gotta look as beautiful and elegant as arwen, i'd have to sit in front of the mirror all day! atleast i can reach upto eowyn's standard when she's at war, with her hair standing out on all sides and in that large soldier's outfit). well, here i am slashing away with an imaginary sword and riding on a war horse (which is my bedpost).... i then get a glimpse of myself in the mirror and say to myself, "get real!".......

WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF FANTASY!! (part 1)

all this time i thought living in a fantasy world is normal...well, it is, to a certain degree...but too much of it will make you a lunatic. some people have become "mad" coz they've indulged a bit too much in the world of fantasy. when reality hit me hard and when my best friend in college tried hard to get my feet back on the ground (or was it there before?), i realised that the world around me is quite different. good does not always win...men with good faith do not always meet a good end..some people seem luckier...sometimes the truth is not so clear or pleasant... there's nobody who's totally good or totally bad...sometimes the handsome prince might not kiss sleeping beauty...sometimes the beast might not find a belle...sometimes the witch will suceed in killing snowhite...sometimes a genie might not pop out of an old rustic lamp...

living with psychotics and neurotics(part 1)

final year in college was fun. although all of us knew that we had a relatively fuzzy idea of psychology, we could look at people straight in the eye and say without uttering a word-"i know what yor are hiding from me". i still remember the sweaty moments we've spent in class, trying to grasp all the psychological terms and trying to recollect what we've studied for the last 2 years (since everything we learn is connected, teachers keep irritating us by asking questions like, "so who knows the definition/ meaning /interpretation, etc..of....?"). class hours were difficult not only because we had to plod through our memory bins often but also because they were shocking moments of revelation - everyone we knew (including ourselves) seemed to have a cluster of very serious mental disorders or syndromes. those moments of torture were spent only during class hours though (between which we had 5 minutes breaks to give our brains a little rest). once we go back to the hostel we'd get rid of all that class rubbish the way we get rid of our outgoing dresses and put on the carefree attitude, the way we put on our hostel rags....

CALL IT GENERATION GAP

as days pass, i can't help but notice the difference in opinions, likes, dislikes, tastes, priorities and interests between my mum and myself. yesterday, while coming back home from music classes, mum was dreamily looking at the colourful fishes displayed in the pet shop we were passing by. when she realised that i was looking at her, she said grimly, "hhmmm, just thought of buying some fish to keep me company...". "FISH!! wouldn't a dog or a cat or a bird or something that responds to human affection be better? even a turtle or a rabbit will do!". to that my mum replied, "ugh! the dirt and the mess they make...better not to have one than to clean all that mess!". I grin to myself and think, "weird! i guess it's a only a matter of having different tastes"

1 day later...

as i sit back to stretch my fingers (while working on this post), the screen saver appears in front of me (one of the first things mum learnt while learning the basics in computer was on how to change the desktop background and screen saver) and i see a lot of fishes "uugu, ugu"ing at me. oh how boooorriiinggg!! somehow i felt like as if mum MUST have been thinking about the money involved...surely a horse or a dog or anythingelse would be better....

WALKING THE STREETS OF BANGALORE

after my final exams were over we (my pap, mum and myself) had planned to stay with my big bro in bangalore for a few days and eeehhhhhh....aha! yea, cheer him up. i wasn't really looking forward to it, not because i didn't like my big bro or the place (infact i love both), but because i knew i would be all cooped up at home with nothing to do (if you do not take the cleaning of the dishes and cutting of vegetables into consideration). the first few days in bangalore went as predicted... i had to help my mum clean the entire place and arrange things- you know put all the things in their proper places (the fridge was used as a shelf). what with the frequent power cuts and water shortage, and being the victim of parental woes and frustrations, i was going insane. after 2 or 3 days i started adapting- i'd get up in the morning, say a little prayer to help keep my cool and to say hi to the Big Man up there (yyyyyyohhhhoooooo! i'm hheeeeeerrrreeee!), listen to music on my walkman (remember no electricity most of the time in the morning), read books(yawn, why am i feeling sleepy?), and watch LOTR( when pap is not at home and when mum doesn't have anything for me to do and when there's electricity and when i don't have to eat or sleep or go to the bathroom). adapting to the home environment in bangalore helped me to appreciate darwin's theory of the "survival of the fittest". my boring routine changed a bit, when my big bro, after having come back from work one day, offered to show me around. i jumped at the offer, ofcourse (although i acted like as if i wasn't really interested, just in case mum thought i was upto some kind of mischief).

AND THE STORY BEGINS- the first time we went for a walk, it was a little awkward. what with all the noise and distractions(including instances in which some belle passes by and my big bro's eyes glazes) i talked in a rather loud voice. it must've been real bad because in the middle of our conversation, when i had decidedly made a statement about something i strongly believed, my brotherly grimly replied, "great, you just broadcasted that, live!".

i used to wait all morning for these afternoon walks. i looked at it as an opportunity to exercise my legs, breath in the city air(can't call the air "fresh", can i?) and exchange ideas with big bro. while we walked we talked and talked about everything and anything-ranging from very serious matters like what we would like to be one day to less serious ones like, "hey ponni, what would you do if a guy does this/ says that...?". as a side buisness, we'd take different routes to have a good look around and avoid uncle X(a friendly old man who likes to talk a lot), comment on the people around(hey, check out that guy trying to look cool), become friendly with the kids in the block(noticed how cute kids look when they are shy?)...

just when life was becoming a little more enjoyable, it was time to leave....big bro waved us goodbye in the airport while pappa and mummy were trying hard to hold back their tears (what will the little boy do when we go?) and while i waved back cheerfully to convey the message-live life to the full, big bro!

TO THE MOON AND BACK

i'm sitting in front of the doctor and the doctor very seriously explains to my parents that a surgery must be done to remove my thyroid gland. i try to look serious and frightened just in case people around me think that i'm mad to be excited and happy to have my throat cut. as time goes by i find it difficult to put on an act and be myself. my parents think i'm trying to be brave and indifferent to the expected pain. (sigh! when will they ever inderstand me)
finally the surgery day arrives and i'm lying on the "trolley" to be rolled to the operation theatre. my mum has tears in her eyes and my big boss(father) kisses me on my forehead (the first time i remember boss kissing me). a few of my close relatives had come to see me like as if i was a dead body or something from the mortuary. on the whole i thought everybody was over reacting.
in the room opposite operation theatre i get down from the trolley and have an interview with the anaesthetist. i then get on the trolley and lie down wondering why they had to roll me all the way to the operation theatre when i could've simply walked to the theatre (hhmmmm, maybe they wanted to convince my parents that they were providing quality service).
i'm then rolled into the main room where the surgery is conducted. i see four green people with masks and everything (hey, friendly green aliens). among them i recognise the friendly anesthetist and give her a drowsy smile........
everthing is the same, only thing my lids feel like iron. i hear everything the doctors are talking about-music, films, hot gossips,etc...after a few mins i realise that they've already started cutting my throat and i start having a slight burning sensation which progressively increases. hey, din't my parents say i wouldn't be FEELING anything...that i would be TOTALLY unconscious? BY GOD!! they've got it all wrong!!i'm NOT unconscious.........

i wake up to a slap on my cheek and try to open my eyes..."what's your name?"....."huh?"...."what's your name?"..."RENI, like duh!"....surely my name is being written in the book of life at the moment....

i wake up (again) and i'm connected to tubes all round me (two from my chest and one from my throat to collect the blood oozing from the incision and another tube on my hand connected to the liquid glucose drip). i look down at myself and grimly think that i should've waxed my legs. all thoughts of looking elegant vanishes when the drug's effect wanes and the pain increases....well, so much for a great experience...

COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS

sometimes you get lucky when you least expect to. there were times when you just sit idly and....whhoooossshhh...you're that lucky person. now i'm not talking about getting as lucky as winning a lottery or anything....it is about getting lucky in the long run. for instance, when i look back to my school and college life, i never actually achieved anything GREAT. i was always a simpleton who liked to marvel at small things and enjoy the moment. on the outside though, i stalked around like an impatient beast complaining about how boring life could be and about the little (or nil, according to me) freedom i'm granted. but there were some things i experienced to the full. when it comes to having good friends, i win...and a loving family, i win...and averaging in class without putting in much effort, i win...
hhmmm, befor you go green, i'd like to say, being lucky though, doesn't necessarily mean i'll continue being lucky. one day my luck might turn and i'll be all dazed, standing in the middle of nowhere, wondering what hit me...

WHERE DO I BELONG

being a NRI is difficult. i remember during my school years making the solemn promise to not even think of doing further studies in kerala. and where do i find myself after high school?-in the heart of kerala.....

3 years later.....

i've finally completed my bachelors and i'm back "home". looking back, i feel, college life was not so bad...in fact, it wasn't bad at all. true, staying in kerala meant staying in a godamn traditional hostel with limited facilities and freedom. but i did have fun. i remember the times i used to literally fool around with my friends, try juggling studies and various kinds of competitions, constantly trying to be in the good books of my teachers (not that i cared about my reputation, but had to somehow scrape through without my parents noticing me doing illegal stuff), getting along quit well with the warden and the other sisters (bless their souls) at certain times, getting in and out of a crush (now THAT was exciting)....

Each friend i made there was special. True, they could be stupid at times, but hey, even i 'm a disaster when it's full moon (i like thinking of myself as a were-wolf. dunno why, but it sounds cool). My best friend in college for example, was dead stubborn, obstinate, immovable, thought she was Ms. right, impulsive, brain-dead when it came to listening to other people's opinions but above all she was the most kindly, helpful and smartest soul when it came to maintaining our relationship and boosting my spirits.

sigh! have to say goodbye to those good old days though.....all good things should come to an end, i guess. Don't worry my dear tender heart, my preciousssssss, we'll move on.....coz there are still a lot many people out there waiting to be our friend...let's say goodbye to the past and embrace the futur....