Over the past few days, i have heard rumours that there are a “few” people who believe that i have a tendency to praise myself in my posts..I wonder what gave them that idea, lol! ;) Anyway, i have decided to be fair as usual, and this time around, im not gonna tell you any of those true stories, incidents in Mr Narayanan’s life when he bravely helped damsels in distress, saved the cheetah from extinction, not even gonna tell you that i was the actual pioneer behind India’s nuclear power project, not Mr Weird Hairstyle Kalam. Instead today I'm gonna share some of the incidents that have had a saddeningly deep impact on my life and have scarred me forever.
Its all my parents fault: At the tender age of two, when a child’s mind is having its first impressions about the world, when a tiny toddler is still in the process of learning various educational things like “the art of spraying a new tablecloth, or, better,a human being with one’s biological “tools”..( a quick squirt right when he picks you up is the first thing they teach you in that brilliant book “Things you can get away with when you are a baby” ), I was subjected to vicious child abuse. In a nation which is still largely besotted with the male child, here was a family, which wanted 2 daughters, and when God didnt choose to listen to their prayers, mum decided that it was okay if she had a baby boy coz he really wouldn't be able to stand up for himself when she’d dress him in girly clothes. And everywhere we went, men and women of all kinds would pick me up, play with my cheeks and exclaim “What a cute little daughter you have?” (Now you know why i am the way i am? now u feel sorry for me?!!!). All i did was stare back with big eyes, coz i still hadnt learnt how to speak (Amma says I never spoke till Iwas four, and after that I never stopped.)
If you think this was torture enough, you are wrong. There were other incidents too. My parents had a belief that the only times i looked “photogenic” was while i was having a bath, and as soon as my “essentials” were off, and id bravely stand under the shower( with a look similiar to that of a doomed prisoner’s when he’s staring at the noose), they’d start clicking pictures. I was intelligent enough though. I'd quickly place the mug strategically over regions of the anatomy that God endowed men with, so that they could squirt all the walls in the neighbourhood and the world in general.Sometimes a soap case substitued for a mug, at other times, id dive into buckets, or duck behind the commode… all this to save my honour!
I see some of you already have tears in your eyes,and feel like screaming at my parents for their “behaviour” but dont do that. They are my parents and i am Shravan Kumar. You can instead offer your sympathies to me in the form of cash, gifts or treats.
School: When I was in 7th standard, I fell in love. I mean, that was the first time. There have been numerous instances of the same kind,since after that.It usually changes faster than the seasons in a year, but back in that glorious summer of ‘96, i knew that I, Neeraj Narayanan, would take 12 year old Megha Mathur, one day, as my lawfully wedded wife , and would take care of her in sickness, in health,in rich or poor,during football worldcups and maybe even during cricket ones, until death or Pamela Anderson do us apart. The fact that that pretty little angel never realized all these things isnt of much significance, the fact that she knew I existed made me happy enough. I was the geekiest looking lad in the schol and she was the most beautiful girl in the planet. So one day, gathering up all my courage, i went to her seat ,my eyes on her throughout that fateful distance upto her seat. I even got up with a gracefullness I din expect myself capable of, after i fell head first into the floor when a dratted boy tripped me. Anyway, i put my hand suavely on her table and asked her how she felt about me.
You actually fell for that!!! No you nitwits, though I had intentions to ask something of the sort, the words that actually came out of my mouth were “Did you bring your Megha, English book?” It made her laugh and I pretended that I had said it in purpose. We began talking and it felt wonderful. She cracked a joke and I laughed loudly , guffawed in fact, tossing my head back(like a horse)and laughing thinking that it would make her happy. It might have, but funnily enough, her face changed colour and .. was i dreaming? she even looked frightened. I wondered if I had forgotten to brush my teeth in the morning, and thats when i felt an excruciating pain in my left ear. Apparently, the teacher, who had arrived in class, wasnt very happy about me not realizing that he was there, and neither did he like me laughing uproariously. He held my ear the entire time, while “escorting” me out of the class, and i could hear a class of 40 laughing along. {sigh!}. Megha and i never got married.
While in my 12th standard, I was travelling in a public bus once. When I got in there was just one seat empty, next to a girl. I sat down displaying great sophistication. Before i could entertain thoughts of “falling for her”, my eyes fell on three rowdies, probably in their mid 30’s, sitting in front. They were all sitting face towards us, and looked “drunk”. Soon, they started passing lecherous comments at the poor girl sitting next to me, and it was,frankly, disgusting. There were about 15 people in the bus, but nobody dared to say anything.Though being a hardcore bollywood fan, i knew that there was no way I could fight even one of them, leave alone 3. But the $%$#% wouldnt stop commenting, and it made me mad. In my most threatening voice, Iasked them to stop, and before I could tell them that they’d be thrashed by me if they din listen,they were all upon me & I was smacked left right centre. It would have probably continued for the whole day, if the conductor hadnt pleaded with them to stop. They went back to their seats and we were subjected to verbal abuse, till, finally the girl, and I got off at a busstop. We left without saying a word to each other.
There are numerous other incidents where i have been acutely embarassed, but i wont share them with you. Shan’t tell you that my seat partner in 6th standard, Neha, always beat me in hand wrestling, or the play -”Ekalavya” when i over acted so much (i was one of the Ekalavya’s bhil friends and ended up speaking more lines than him), that for the next showing of the play, the dramatics club gave me the role of a “tree” in the forest where Ekalavya and his friends played.Being an enthusiastic chap, the tree (me) kept on moving throughout the play. Later when the teacher furiously demanded an explaination, i claimed that it was very windy and i was depicting a “swaying tree”.Shant tell you that last time i went to Kerala, my parents told me that we were supposed to inaugarate a family temple, and I'd have to wear a dhoti(1st time). And right when the priest offered me “prasad” the whole dhoti came off. The priest was in the general ward the whole of next day, and from then on, has handed over the responsibility of the “prasad sharing” to unlucky juniors.
But just coz i said all dis it doesnt mean im any less a stud. And there will be a day when anybody coming to my house, will look at me with awe, fear and respect.
But only if mom stops showing them those darned #$#$%#$ bathroom baby photographs
Its all my parents fault: At the tender age of two, when a child’s mind is having its first impressions about the world, when a tiny toddler is still in the process of learning various educational things like “the art of spraying a new tablecloth, or, better,a human being with one’s biological “tools”..( a quick squirt right when he picks you up is the first thing they teach you in that brilliant book “Things you can get away with when you are a baby” ), I was subjected to vicious child abuse. In a nation which is still largely besotted with the male child, here was a family, which wanted 2 daughters, and when God didnt choose to listen to their prayers, mum decided that it was okay if she had a baby boy coz he really wouldn't be able to stand up for himself when she’d dress him in girly clothes. And everywhere we went, men and women of all kinds would pick me up, play with my cheeks and exclaim “What a cute little daughter you have?” (Now you know why i am the way i am? now u feel sorry for me?!!!). All i did was stare back with big eyes, coz i still hadnt learnt how to speak (Amma says I never spoke till Iwas four, and after that I never stopped.)
If you think this was torture enough, you are wrong. There were other incidents too. My parents had a belief that the only times i looked “photogenic” was while i was having a bath, and as soon as my “essentials” were off, and id bravely stand under the shower( with a look similiar to that of a doomed prisoner’s when he’s staring at the noose), they’d start clicking pictures. I was intelligent enough though. I'd quickly place the mug strategically over regions of the anatomy that God endowed men with, so that they could squirt all the walls in the neighbourhood and the world in general.Sometimes a soap case substitued for a mug, at other times, id dive into buckets, or duck behind the commode… all this to save my honour!
I see some of you already have tears in your eyes,and feel like screaming at my parents for their “behaviour” but dont do that. They are my parents and i am Shravan Kumar. You can instead offer your sympathies to me in the form of cash, gifts or treats.
School: When I was in 7th standard, I fell in love. I mean, that was the first time. There have been numerous instances of the same kind,since after that.It usually changes faster than the seasons in a year, but back in that glorious summer of ‘96, i knew that I, Neeraj Narayanan, would take 12 year old Megha Mathur, one day, as my lawfully wedded wife , and would take care of her in sickness, in health,in rich or poor,during football worldcups and maybe even during cricket ones, until death or Pamela Anderson do us apart. The fact that that pretty little angel never realized all these things isnt of much significance, the fact that she knew I existed made me happy enough. I was the geekiest looking lad in the schol and she was the most beautiful girl in the planet. So one day, gathering up all my courage, i went to her seat ,my eyes on her throughout that fateful distance upto her seat. I even got up with a gracefullness I din expect myself capable of, after i fell head first into the floor when a dratted boy tripped me. Anyway, i put my hand suavely on her table and asked her how she felt about me.
You actually fell for that!!! No you nitwits, though I had intentions to ask something of the sort, the words that actually came out of my mouth were “Did you bring your Megha, English book?” It made her laugh and I pretended that I had said it in purpose. We began talking and it felt wonderful. She cracked a joke and I laughed loudly , guffawed in fact, tossing my head back(like a horse)and laughing thinking that it would make her happy. It might have, but funnily enough, her face changed colour and .. was i dreaming? she even looked frightened. I wondered if I had forgotten to brush my teeth in the morning, and thats when i felt an excruciating pain in my left ear. Apparently, the teacher, who had arrived in class, wasnt very happy about me not realizing that he was there, and neither did he like me laughing uproariously. He held my ear the entire time, while “escorting” me out of the class, and i could hear a class of 40 laughing along. {sigh!}. Megha and i never got married.
While in my 12th standard, I was travelling in a public bus once. When I got in there was just one seat empty, next to a girl. I sat down displaying great sophistication. Before i could entertain thoughts of “falling for her”, my eyes fell on three rowdies, probably in their mid 30’s, sitting in front. They were all sitting face towards us, and looked “drunk”. Soon, they started passing lecherous comments at the poor girl sitting next to me, and it was,frankly, disgusting. There were about 15 people in the bus, but nobody dared to say anything.Though being a hardcore bollywood fan, i knew that there was no way I could fight even one of them, leave alone 3. But the $%$#% wouldnt stop commenting, and it made me mad. In my most threatening voice, Iasked them to stop, and before I could tell them that they’d be thrashed by me if they din listen,they were all upon me & I was smacked left right centre. It would have probably continued for the whole day, if the conductor hadnt pleaded with them to stop. They went back to their seats and we were subjected to verbal abuse, till, finally the girl, and I got off at a busstop. We left without saying a word to each other.
There are numerous other incidents where i have been acutely embarassed, but i wont share them with you. Shan’t tell you that my seat partner in 6th standard, Neha, always beat me in hand wrestling, or the play -”Ekalavya” when i over acted so much (i was one of the Ekalavya’s bhil friends and ended up speaking more lines than him), that for the next showing of the play, the dramatics club gave me the role of a “tree” in the forest where Ekalavya and his friends played.Being an enthusiastic chap, the tree (me) kept on moving throughout the play. Later when the teacher furiously demanded an explaination, i claimed that it was very windy and i was depicting a “swaying tree”.Shant tell you that last time i went to Kerala, my parents told me that we were supposed to inaugarate a family temple, and I'd have to wear a dhoti(1st time). And right when the priest offered me “prasad” the whole dhoti came off. The priest was in the general ward the whole of next day, and from then on, has handed over the responsibility of the “prasad sharing” to unlucky juniors.
But just coz i said all dis it doesnt mean im any less a stud. And there will be a day when anybody coming to my house, will look at me with awe, fear and respect.
But only if mom stops showing them those darned #$#$%#$ bathroom baby photographs
