Saturday, January 29, 2011
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Outside my blog life, things are quite the usual. School was the usual with another heart stopping moment in math class when Sobuj Sir was almost about to land a missile-like rap on my knuckles. That's one of the many ways of tackling a bunch of will-go-out-of-hand-anytime ten year olds. If you are found talking in class he will swoop down from nowhere and then knock our heads with each other. If he is busy scribbling boring numbers on the blackboard and cannot easily reach us, he will turn and throw the piece of chalk that he is holding in the direction of the sound or rather the whisper or the hum. We all agree that he would have been quite asset for the Indian cricket team who, off late, have been quite lousy on field, especially while pulling off the perfect direct hits. Thus, for us he is the unsung hero!
Friday, January 8, 2010
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Oh that day was one heck of a day. Well at least that was what I was told. My mum was rushed to the hospital with the first alarm. Talking about alarms, I have often wondered how does one get to hear the alarm. I mean, an alarm is an alarm, right? It should make a hell lot of noise and at least someone (like me who has quite an ear for any kind of alarms having created so many myself) should get to hear it. But no, nothing of the sort really happens. Anyway, coming back to my story (which of course is not exactly first hand, I must admit, having been handed down to me from my Mum), I recall of course a strong smell of something that filled the entire room, the very same smell that hit me when I was taken to the O.T. for stitching up my finger.
Mum says that doctors force the babies to cry as soon as they are born and I can bet on my life that that day I could well hear not just one but two voices screaming out loud. Well that was quite a pair we made, my sister and I – the troublesome twins, the storm after the silence (my eldest sibling, who is a darling I must say).
Then the next few days I heard quite a few voices all sounding that they were coochy-cooing with me or my sister. I was one selfish brat even then. Didn’t like it at all when they showered too much of attention to my twin. I would throw my arms up in the air, at least tried to make it look that way with all the cloth that was wrapped around me, and threw a fit. My sister was the quieter one that way, only that now I realize that she had very cunningly left me alone as she knew that the next whatever years are left of my life, it will be payback time for me.
But of all the voices that I heard, there was always that special voice that calmed me every time it cooed sweet nothings into my ears, or those soft caring arms that held me close. I could hear her heart-beat and it was right then that I had decided that I would also set my heart beat at the same rhythm. There was also another voice which sounded quite younger than the others and I loved playing around that finger that I usually associated with that voice.
Slowly there were pictures in my life! There was that heavenly smiling lady whose eyes seemed to never leave my sight. Then there was that playful finger who turned out to be my older sister. There was also a deep voice that sounded awful proud when he talked about me. It didn’t take me long to figure that this was my family – my Mum, older sister, Dad and oh yeah my twin too.
My granny says that the first sight of me that she remembers is nothing but a bundle of cloths that wrapped the tiny body that slept peacefully without a care in the world. I have a confession here to make – I must say that I am terribly jealous of that tiny baby wrapped in rolls of cloth than this ten year old giving his worldly advice on everything around him. It’s like I have a huge weight that I carry around on my back; the funny thing is nobody can see that huge whatever that weighs me down so much. But I guess that’s one of the prices you pay of growing up.
Hi. I am Ronnie and I just turned ten this winter. To commemorate this ‘oh-so-grand’ occasion, my cousin, who is way too old for me for anything sane to be exchanged between us, lavishly gifted me this space – where? In cyber space! She said she got this brilliant idea from a newspaper article she read about this really old Spanish lady, who was supposed to be the world’s oldest blogger. She was quite popular too, as she narrated stories that have gone into the pages of history - from her own experiences. So my cousin, who thinks I am going to be this great whatever, thought not to waste too many years (waiting till I turned really old and gnarled) and kick-start at an early age. After all this is the age where people are doing things way before their forefathers even thought of doing (and yeah I include almost everything you have in your mind right now).
But for me, having spent only a decade in this world, which others think has loads of things on offer if you can manage to grab hold of it, I don’t have much to say. Oh yes, I have loads to say about ‘my world’. But who thinks that’s cool enough?
Look at Mum and Dad. I know they love me and all, but do they ever take anything I say seriously? Like the other day, when I said old Mrs. Ray looks a little unlike herself. Nobody even batted an eyelid. Two days later when news got around that she passed away quietly in her sleep, everybody said that they never got any inkling that something might be wrong. Hello???
Just another day, I managed to extract a face-wipe from my cousin (this is the same one who thought she was too kind to give me some space somewhere), I realized I didn’t have anywhere to keep which I can call mine. With just two rooms and three siblings and throw in a huge dog, it is really difficult to call anywhere your own. Rather it is everyone’s. Even my school bag, which was the last piece of anything on which I thought I had the sole proprietorship, slipped out of my fingers. Why? You want to know why? Our dog Rex, who Mum says is the best behaved in the entire lot, was peeping very interestedly into my school bag. That was the moment - I knew it - that I lost the one thing I could call my own. Next day, as (only) I expected, the bag went missing only to be found in a rather sorry state. And yet Rex gets to be crowned as the best-behaved one in the house.
I know I have a very colourful record of managing to do a whole lot of things that many may get a heart attack while just listening to the narration. Like when I shattered the glass doors of the bookcase in the living-room. I was thrilled, considering that I managed to something as spectacular when I was just one and half years old. But the icing on the cake or the best one so far (oh yeah I am planning to come up with some more awesome stunts) jumped from the table and landed on an open knife and managed to almost chop off my own middle finger (I don’t know why my cousin thinks that it is highly ironic). It bled a lot. Quite gory, I must say! Mum ran around like crazy. Dad was trying to be brave but Mum stole the show for me that day. Hands down. Got a few stitches done. Today I am the only one in my gang who can flaunt a crooked finger and a long scar right down my left arm. Cool ain’t it?
So this is me. I am just the kid next door, with an extra dash of energy. I live happily in this small house with my mum, dad and two very irritating sisters, one of which is my twin – I just wonder how! I go to school like any other kid, braving the taunts of the school bully, who is the only one still unimpressed with my crooked thumb and scar. My Dad is a hardworking employee of a pharmaceutical company (his work is to sell medicine to doctors) and my mum is a homemaker. We have our ups and downs but we scrape through. Each day is therefore something to look forward to, a battle to be won at the end of it. From today, I shall give you a sneak peek into my world and share it with you, ‘coz if I am really going to be famous one day, I better start working on it as soon as possible and now seems to be the best time!
Anyway, happy birthday to me!!