My Hattori Hanzo sword

It was pitch black. I couldn’t even see myself. You could say it was as dark as Gaptain’s face without make up. As I was trying to figure out where on earth I was I realised there was a constant buzzing noise in the background. It sounded like hundreds so insects were in the room or wherever I was. I panicked. I wanted to run, but what if they attacked me. That is when I noticed that I had something in my hand. It felt familiar. It couldn’t be. Light slowly dawned from a corner of the room (yes I was in a very large room). I could see! The room was filled with not just any insects but mosquitoes. And they were just flying around not attacking me. I looked around to find the corners of the room lined with batteries in case the power in the thing in my hands ran out. Yes you guessed it right. I had a pink Kosu bat with me in a room filled with kosu which weren’t biting me.
Just when I was about to swing the bat and kill them I woke up with a start. It was just a dream. I had been dreaming of kosu bat heaven.

You may think that I am so obsessed with kosu bat to dream about it. Amma is worse than me. She always has a kosu bat by her side as long as she is inside the house.
A few years ago if she hears the sound of something breaking she will shout (without even coming out from wherever she is) ‘Was that the remote you broke? How many times will it survive?’
A couple of years ago it was ‘Oh no, please tell me you didn’t break the cell phone.’
Now whatever I drop, Amma would come running to me and ask ‘Enna achu kosu bat ku? Did you drop it? Is it broken?’ She would only calm down after I show her the remote pieces on the floor.

I am not that obsessed with that thing. For me it helps greatly in anger management. Aim a kosu, imagine that as the person whoever I hate at that moment and hit it. My hatred instantly gets reduced and also one kosu less in the universe.

And every time I hold it I feel like The Bride A.K.A Black Mamba A.K.A Beatrix Kiddo with her Hattori Hanzo sword. She kills the kosus of society with it and I kill kosus in my house with mine.

Birthday! When?

Birthdays seem to come and go without even giving me time to realise that I am getting a year older. They aren’t as exciting as they used to be. People wish me at midnight, ask for treat at dawn and I get gifts in return. That’s it. The rest of the day is the same as every day.

As a kid, I had soo much to look forward on the special day. The one day in the whole year when you get to show off your brand new ‘colour’ dress in school. And then there are chocolates. I remember one birthday when I dragged my dad from one supermarket to another in quest of Cadbury diarymilk’s eclairs crunchy.

The day would usually start with a ‘Happy birthday’ from either mom or dad while waking me up. I would be fully awake in seconds and start getting ready for school. The phone would start ringing soon, and I would blabber thank yous to cousins and aunts with mouth full of toothpaste. Amma would have made my favourite breakfast and lunch. Sometimes she would have also made a beautiful colour kolam especially for the occasion. The best part of course was the day in school. Even unknown students would smile and wish me. The whole class would sing ‘happy birthuday to you’. My friends would try to get as many chocolates as possible from the dabba while I would chid them saying ‘hey wait till I distribute it to everyone then it is all yours’. Even my worstu enemy would smile and wish me in hopes of getting extra chocolates. Then the ultimate dilemma, I get to choose only one of my bestest friends to accompany me distribute chocolates to all the teachers in school (and bunking first period). And I never did homeworks on birthdays because I knew I would be excused with an ‘Oh it’s your birthday. Alright submit it tomorrow without fail.’
And evening it would be either tip to temple and dinner at hotel which translates to kaima idly (and sometimes ghee roast) at Hotel Saravana Bhavan or cake cutting with cousins and neighbour kids. The day would end with falling asleep in front of television waay past bedtime. It would have been a long and eventful day.

As I grew older, I had cut down things one by one. No more colour dress to school (decided this in 8th) thinking I am too old from that. No more temple trips, I am too cool for that (no idea when this happened). No more strangers wishing me (no would know it is my birthday unless I tell them). No more looking forward birthdays just for the sake of it and not for gifts. Now birthdays aren’t as long as they used to be. Nothing exciting ever happens on birthdays. It is the same as every day except that I get my favourite food and gifts from friends.

Lost and Found

Amma has been telling me to clear the table for months, but when I say Nan padicitu irukan so aporam panran, she leaves me. Now Appa has started bugging me about it for a few days. It’s not that easy escaping him.

Cleaning or organising my study table or wardrobe is something I hate doing. What helps me survive is the unexpected things that I find in unexpected places.

I find my long lost pink sharpener which I remember searching for weeks together; answer sheets from school with humiliating marks; nail polish hard like rock... Okay you must be thinking what this girl is saying these things are unexpected. Even I have tons of answer sheets with a big red F (I meant fail) under my bed, and this girl is saying like it is a huge thing.

Well you want unexpected, here you go. Once my dad found a lizard egg in the wardrobe which I thought I could grow as a pet. I even came up with a name – Norbet or Norbeta (Yup, I’m a huge HP fan). So I put the egg in a fast track watch daba (for which Amma later scolded me for wasting such a pretty daba) and waited for it to hatch. After 5 seconds I got bored, so I put the lid back with a small gap and checked it for every 10 minutes. Half hour later I lost hope and decided to check it once every hour. This went on and eventually I completely forgot about it for weeks (even though I had kept it right next to my table clock which I check every 5 minutes to see whether half hour has passed since I kept the text book on my lap).

I discovered it only when I cleaned my table and to my surprise it had hatched! I decided to set him free into the wild because that is where he/she belongs (but my mother’s version of the story is different. What she says happened was that when I was looking at the baby lizard and awing at its cuteness, it suddenly made a leap out of the daba trying to escape and that I had dropped the daba and ran for my life. However you don’t listen to her that is just her imagination.). As a true animal lover I know that the lizard doesn’t belong to me or to anyone else for that matter but to the wilderness. Hence I released her into the wild (my backyard).

Coming back to finding things, every now and then I find a single earing. I would search for the lost one for hours and then throw the one I have thinking I had missed its pair outside the house (of course only after the Ultimate finding champion (Amma) fails in the mission). It is really frustrating when the one I had thought I had lost was there right next to the one I had thrown away.

And I often end up finding at least one Reynolds Grippy each time I organise the table. It is my policy since school days to have one ink pen and use that and that only but I lose one almost every month. Till 8^th standard it was the famous Hero pen. And in 8^th standard I fell in love with Reynolds grippy. Every time I lose it I buy a new one only to find the lost one while cleaning the table inside books or pouches or pencil boxes which I didn’t know existed. The longest I ever had a pen without losing it forever was for three and half years (from 9^th standard till 12^th half). An orange and brownish Reynolds grippy. I had guarded it with my life. And it was equally faithful, I must have dropped it million times but it always ended up writing better than before. But on the million plus 1th time it broke along with my heart. It was so full of memories in fact most of my ink pens are, well I would have to write a separate post to talk about them.

The best thing about cleaning my table is finding my black pouch. Well not exactly finding because I would never lose it. It is safe in the very back of my table cupboard. I only open it when I finish clearing up my table. I also call it my nostalgia pouch, for it contains bits and pieces of my school day memories. Some of them are the only tangible things through which I can remember my old friends whom I have lost contact with. Each piece has a story to tell, memories to be remembered. The oldest thing in the pouch is a pink ball shaped eraser and a green elephant shaped pencil cap cum eraser given to me by Buneet kaur (my bestest friend) in 2^nd standard. She left to Dehradun in the beginning of 5^th standard. I always hope I find her someday. I had imagined it a million times. The scene would be like a Ramesh Suresh 5 star advertisement.
I would be in a shop or somewhere looking at the eraser and suddenly it will slip out of my hand and roll and stop at a girl(with long hair)’s feet. She will pick it up, look at it and then me, then it and I would say ni ni Buneet?
She would say ni ni mi..? (Okay I don’t think she will remember Tamil but it is more dramatic in Tamil so bear with me).
Nan Meera.
MEERA!
BUNEET!
We would hug and I would scold her for not calling me from Dehradun (she had my number which is still the same). And I would call up everyone to tell the story.. Well you get the drift.

Now I have to go think of an excuse for skipping table cleaning (suggestions are welcome).
Dreading and looking forward to eventually clear it up.

Blues

Lost. That’s state of my mind for last few weeks. Feeling lost at what I'm doing, Lack of motivation for doing it and Uncertain of why I am doing it.
'When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.' But what if I want chocolate milkshake and not lemonade?

Chase your dream they would say. But when does one recognise one’s dream? Even if one does manage to, is it feasible? If it turns out to be feasible, would it be acceptable? Chasing your dreams becomes a dream which you want to chase. I wanted to be a detective reporter like Tintin when I was little, then changed my mind and wanted to be a writer inspired by Enid Blyton. As I grew up it kept changing every now and then. Even the phases of the moon are less compared to my phases. If not writer it was a mathematician or a cartoonist like Disney. And when cable TV came into my life when I was 13/14 years old all I ever wanted to be was a Discovery channel host. The list goes on. I still would be happy if any of this happened. These still are my dreams.

Childhood was blissful. I didn’t have to worry about chasing dreams; I only had worry about copying the assignment from my best bud before class starts. Growing up might have been easy, but being a grown-up isn’t. The sudden addition of responsibility was and is scary. The constant reminder of it wasn’t helping. I was eager to shed my innocence; little did I know that I’ll regret it. Happiness vanished along with it. Everything has a story behind it which you didn’t know before. You realise that in life there are no free lunches (or breakfast or dinner for that matter). Every morning seems like Monday morning. I dread waking up to day same as yesterday and tomorrow. Falling asleep and waking up has become a difficult task. Gloominess and loneliness is taking over me.

I turn to Hobbes for wisdom
'Calvin - I say what kind of future is this? I thought things were supposed to improve! I thought the future was supposed to be better
Hobbes - The problem with the future is that it keeps turning into the present.'