The Great Escape......Foiled!

I just remembered one of those messed up incidents from the third grade- one of my social gaffes, or crimes as I like to call them. Before I begin, I must say that the archetypal example clearly exemplifies my noxious mentality, of how it was brewing, even as early as 1996. Possibly it was the year, if my blighted memory recalls correctly, the year which my personal moral depravity was at it’s apogee.

P.S, please do not associate the incident as perversion. Am not a pervert. And you get off easily with serious stuff when juvenile. Sometimes makes me pine for those good old days.

Here I was, gearing up for yet another doze during Art and Craft, when a pair of scissors caught my eye.

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Snikt! Snikt! The scissor went, leaving it riddled with holes of various shapes and sizes. The quirkier shapes aside, the others are imprinted in my mind as if it was yesterday. I’m talking, of course, about the unfortunate girl who was unlucky enough to be stationed beside the bench on which I squatted moodily, and worked at her frock. Well, art and craft was supposed to be a creative affair, and never being great shakes at it really, I had to show off my pent up creativity somehow. I do not however remember smiling evilly, as is my current signature fashion, afterwards.

Possibly, because my juvenile mind could not comprehend the concept, although the case is highly doubtful. But it is also possible that it was so, since I got caught red-handed 15 minutes afterwards. But not before making 18 well shaped holes. I must say I showed promise. Too bad, I was never, like Tom Dick and Harry, kidnapped by a pickpocketing racket, and put to use. My capacity in such subversive acts could have exalted me to a rich social status.

I remember the details because it was reiterated to my father the next day by Sister Slut, as I like to call her now. Luckily I got off without even a warning, the teacher’s pet that I was. But another incident, where I got detention shortly afterwards, is further ingrained in my memory.( mainly because of the pain receptors in my ear, AND another tender spot, that I generally don’t display to the public.) <>
The next day, not surprisingly, my dad was beckoned, and I used all my puerile sagacity available, to pretend to go to the loo, when I was actually downstairs, peeking at the window, as my father heard about his son’s antics, and was introduced to qualities he did not know his abysmal son possessed. Trusting and naïve as he was. I on the other hand gazed proudly, as a mother at her newborn child, as my ‘work of art’ was placed before my father.

Too bad, though, that in trying to conceal myself, and keeping an ear out for the conversation, I fortuitously managed to sweep over a flowerpot. Luckily, by the time Sister Slut got to the window sill, I was long gone.

Mission accomplished, thought my puerile mind. Unfortunately, it thought wrong.

Eager to espy on the chatter, and unaware of Einstein’s theory of Relativity, which mentions relativistic time, namely it being longer or shorter for different people, my eavesdropping self had not realized that the two minutes I had haunched below the window had actually been twenty. <>
Meanwhile, expectedly, a probe had been launched in my absence. Discovered as I was, I was too discomfited to lie, (an unfortunate quality, that people of my kind despise, yet I do possess still) and kept mum. The rest of the story is best left untold. If this were a movie, then the reader would do well to realize that this would certainly be a censored scene, or one where curtains would be drawn over the screen temporarily, till the protagonist in distress or embarrassment has extricated himself from the predicament he is in. <>

Clearly Al Capone in the making don’t you think? Maybe a bit of gray miatter is missing, but India is used to defective manufactures nowadays.

Need it be said, the recidivist that I am, that this juvenile delinquent would continue to pertain to the ‘social pest’ tag conferred to him on that fateful day, for years to come?
That reminds me of the age old aphorism-“ Don’t wash your dirty linen in public.”

A bit of introspective…

Normal Self: Feeling guilty are we?

<>Alter ego a.k.a mischievous self : Well I’m merely displaying them, if a bit ostentatiously. No harm done.