I am known to speak pretty openly about things, mind you, when I say openly there’s a lot of difference between the one that speaks explicit stuff about sex/sex related topics in the name of being open!
I am not speaking about that here…. This one goes with my inclination towards subtle-profanity in using copious swear words for the sacrilege intended in general. (Well, well only with closest of my buddies of course!).
As a result of which some of my friends do warn me about: me being way too self-indulgent to an extent of being called as a spoilt-brat, which is not what I am (ha! At least most of the times, Yes my lord, I swear – No lies there!)
So, with the gutter me’s ego being hurt enough to give a purple eye, I went about for a bit of retrospection seeking for a probable reason for justifying the invisible crown that clinched firmly on my head.
And as they show in the age old Eastman color movies, I didn’t see a coil or helix revolving around in front of my eyes, but it was a hazy dark backdrop (with nothing clearly visible enough to make an identity) walking me back to my childhood days…..
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Dad had come down for lunch that day for somehow Tamil Nadu government never declared “Sri Rama Navami” as a holiday. But my school was off, I don’t seem to remember how/why though… but not my brothers (Yippeee.. I was enjoying at home eating lot of goodies that my mom prepared while my brother had to be at his school!).
Panakam, Neer Mor & Poli etc al – Food solutions guaranteed by mom as always is the case with her; be it a festivity or not!
(Panakam =Sweetened water using sugar candy+Ginger, Neer Mor = buttermilk, Poli – Kind of sweet that looks like roti stuffed with sweet.)
Pooja as usual went in a really grand manner, thanks to the splendid efforts of my mom to keep things going cool, easy and traditionally and culturally and also customarily rich and flawless. As with the routine we finished our lunch together with my brother joining us during his lunch break.
Brother leaves in a hurry after a heavy lunch and so must dad now. Dad was all set to go and gave life to his scooter when the roaring 2-stroke engine’s sound rang a bell in my head and I rushed all the way from the back-yard, where I was having a mango and stopped at the front gate of our house just in time to save myself from banging hard against the iron bars and also make it to see off my dad with a happy wave from my free left hand.
After finishing all the juice out of the mango, not really interested with the leftovers I tried a full-toss at the nearest garbage bin of our street, and it went up, up and up in the air though but never landed on the earth…. Amazed, I was at the mango chunk that had disappeared in thin air; I walked past the iron gate and peeped out of my front veranda that had an open ditch of about 5X4X3 Feet lying adjacent to the edge of the floor where the front veranda ends. That ditch having gutter water accumulated in it is left open on the street. Without a second thought about reaching the edge of the veranda I was still super keen on the missing mango-chunk that I threw higher up in the air and was still gaping at the sky with my mouth wide-open and missed a step to find myself frantically struggling for breath, drowning and making attempts to shout out loud. I don’t know from where God sent my savior, my mom, who gave her hand and pulled me out of the gutter. I was drenched black matching the color of the pool that I just emerged from. For a few seconds, I was totally disoriented and it took me minutes figure out what had just happened. Those few seconds of interaction, mingling, immersing and fighting out for life with all those cockroaches, other visible and invisible beings of that gutter trap could possibly have left some after effects in me when I think about that very fateful day, 17 years ago which had me gulp-in the most unwanted with the incident (or should I say accident?) still itched on to my memory deep, strong and embossed like a thick scar.
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Could this be the reason for my inclination towards profanities?
Oh no, that’s a hypocrite in me talking again!
Hell, I wasn’t like this till I finished my college, for heaven’s sake I still remember the way I used to shudder on hearing the four lettered word being uttered by someone. Mind you, I had been into books even then, so they are not the reason!
Bah, No!!! It’s not about being so radical or even remotely closer to those lines.
Being hip, posh or fad has never been something that I could take in like my daily coffees.
No boss, that’s something that, suits this dainty old personality of mine!
So it isn’t an avant-garde thingy as well!!!
Gosh!! Someone please help me understand this freaking disease that I am struck with in the last two years leaving me no better than an ill-tempered, irritable & grumpy old piece of shit that I am………Ah! There I go!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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