my life:chapter 1

Life’s Beginnings
A bright day was what greeted me that morning, my first morning. I was born a whole week before anyone wanted me. My mother went through hell having me, she’s still wondering if it was worth it. The doctor had gone for a swim and had to rush to the hospital in his trunks to deliver me (don’t worry he got into his scrubs to deliver me).
The doctor will still tell you that I winked at the nurse when I came out, everyone else will tell you that he swallowed a bit too much water in the swimming pool.
My father is in the Army and was fighting the villains of the nations. Funnily the bad guys decided to call a ceasefire the day I was born, I guess they realized life couldn’t get any worse now. My dad came back home to see his son, his first son, the pride of every father. My father is a very brave man but very reliable sources tell me he was scared out of his skin when he saw me. Time and a little weight changed his vision and everybody else’s. I was the kid of the family. Fellow colleagues of my father always wanted to cuddle me. I didn’t mind their wives but these were grown men, in the army, c’mon.
Life went on, we moved from Jabalpur (sorry I didn’t mention the place before) to Bangalore while my Dad went to protect the nation from those lousy guys across the border. I learned to walk, still don’t understand what the big deal was. It made more headlines than India beating Pakistan in cricket that year. I got my first shot at stardom back then as I walked from my room (actually my sister’s) to the dining room (a whole 2 yards!!!). felt like I was doing one of the Paris or Milan fashion ramps, it was nothing less than that. I mean if your born with legs you are bound to walk sometime or the other, right. Anyway I knew I was a star from then. Slowly I spoke for the first time, this too was quite the occasion though slowly everyone realized I was never going to stop (actually they have gagged me right now, that’s why I am typing this). Then Dad came back and was aghast when he saw how much I spoke. Dad then got posted to Ladakh and this is precisely the time I realized I was alive, as I was aware now of everything around me, I felt in control, I, was 4.
A very difficult age, many don’t understand. The temptations, studies, girlfriend problems, maturity problems, peer pressure; actually you have none of this and that is what makes it so difficult. If you didn’t realize, you did nothing when you were four except for eating and sleeping, I went a step further, I ate a little more. The advantages are unbelievable and as my life unfolds you will see them. Families don’t exactly go to Ladakh, its just like a pretty painting, that’s all. So my mother, sis and me stayed in Lucknow. Here I began the process of education. I wish I had heard Pink Floyd’s ‘Brick in the Wall’ back then, I would’ve realized that ‘we need no education’. But as this endless commentary may get published some godforsaken day by some whacked publisher I must reiterate that ‘ Education is very important and I support the government’s 100% education policy’ because its better that the whole country screws up together instead of just a minority. Anyway I went to one of the best schools in town, it had a park inside with real swings and slides and small huts (I actually locked myself in one of them accidentally) and even had a horse on which we could ride (when I think back carefully now I realize it wasn’t exactly, real, Shucks)
‘ How much is 2+2, son?’ asked my teacher one day.
I looked at her and burst out laughing. I still don’t get mathematics. I understand why now.
She tried very hard, but I just couldn’t stop laughing. The problem wasn’t in my ability, I actually associated mathematics with this teacher who had a very funny voice and funnier face, so when I even do calculus now (okay can somebody tell me where the *#$& are we going to use this demented form of maths), I remember her face till today and Maths is therefore still, a problem. School got more interesting as a new girl joined the class. I was having my first crush, she was sent from the heavens above (when I think I wonder if I was blind), she smelt of the gardens of Babylon and powders of Johnson & Johnson. She had this very colourful blue handkerchief, I think I actually fell in love with that more than with her.
The days went by and I reached the phase where I started hating all girls excluding my mom. The blue hanky girl looked like she was delivered by parcel from hell, her hanky looked repulsive now (always was) and I did some male bonding (back then male bonding didn’t sound as gay as it does now). I realized the guys were real fun, our toys were the stones and mud of school. Our targets, the principal’s car, a golden Contessa. The girls believed it was 24C gold. Obviously we guys didn’t care, we were the guys, our job was to destroy!!!
The plan was made, not much of a plan really, we just filled up all the sand from the sandpit of the park below the car. Me and the guys knew that Einstein and Curie were our grandparents and decided that the car won’t move and our beloved principal will be stuck in the school forever and she will be eaten up by the school dogs who became man-eating monsters at night. To the good luck of the principal, the car just drove over the sand without too much of a problem and drove away. It was a big setback in our ‘school property destroying’ careers but we all contented ourselves when the nerd of our class said ‘I think we made a mathematical mistake’. I burst out laughing.
For our summer holidays we used to go to Ladakh to meet my Dad and my dad was really worried when he came to know I burst out laughing when I heard anything to do with Maths. Ladakh as I said before is one huge, life size painting. Everything is picture perfect except the weather, you know why, because it’s cold, much colder then where you are sitting and reading this. We went to high altitude deserts (imagine wearing sweaters and I mean sweaters in the desert). They were always great holidays. My parents used to have long discussions into the night, I remember sleeping of halfway in my sister’s lap and waking up on the floor near my bed. Now I don’t know if I used to fall of the bed at night or I was put there by my sister when my parents weren’t looking. Hmmm…Anyway my parents used to discuss a certain problem I was supposedly facing. My teachers at school had told them I was having problems making friends. But I already had a friend, didn’t know his name but he was always with me, from the day I winked at that nurse when I was born, he was there right by my side, so then why did I need a friend. Why?


…and I become the first to comment. *honored* ergo, when some whacked publisher actually decides to print The Story Of Som, I shall have found my place in posterity! Yay! :D
Good work here, som...very cheeky, very entertainin! ;) and in me you shall find a devoted follower of all your literary adventures...keep it goin! :)


loved reading it... good sense of humour...