There is a genetic misconception amongst most mothers: Our urinary bladders like the Television set can be remote controlled by them.
“Use the bathroom right now. You will not be able to go later on,” commands Mummy, almost shoving me into the commode.
The situation gets more intense minutes before leaving for school every day.
“Go, go.”
Gone.
Today is a special day in school. No, it is not a public holiday.
Yesterday, Naaz Miss had informed us to come neatly dressed for the ‘class photograph’. “Wear regular uniform with black shoes,” she made us note down in our calendars.
Since applying makeup was a punishment-inducing act according to Rule No 6 mentioned in the school calendar, I could only rely on my ironed uniform and woven hair plaits to look "neatly dressed".
After spending the first three periods mastering rhyming words, basic addition and planets in the solar system, the school peon stepped into the classroom.
“Children, form a height-wise line. Fingers on your lips,” Naaz Miss announces.
One of the biggest advantages of being neither too tall nor too short was the opportunity to sit right next to Naaz Miss in the class photo.
The taller students of the class were made to stand on benches that we otherwise used to place our lunch dabbas on. The shorter ones had to kneel down on the ground that had dog poop and dust left behind from our shoe soles.
After giggling and blushing for ten seconds straight, Reema and I, who sat on either side of Naaz Miss, manually ironed the creases on our uniform skirts.
It was our mini- Miss India moment.
“Back row students, stand in attention. Students in the front, hands on your thighs,” announces Mr Photographer, in a well-rehearsed almost bored tone.
Striking poses as identical as our uniforms, I wondered whether sporting a smile would even make a difference.
From a distance, we resembled a cluster of mass produced ceramic show pieces.
Faceless, and almost impossible to tell apart.
“Open your eyes…Smile, please.”
I flaunt my front teeth. Just like every one else from class.
8 comments:
haha! I was one of students kneeling down on d dusty ground with hands on thighs! :D
I was the tallest girl in class :-D You write very well.. keep blogging :-)
Beautiful write up......love the last few para's .. . I was standing on the benches where students like you kept your dabbas on . . .and abused your kinds too for not wiping the benches after eating !!!
Haha, thank you!
Oh, this brings back a lot. Disturbing times.
Disadvantages of being a midget is you sit next to the professor [math], nevermind the fact that she hates your bloody guts.
School. not all nostalgia is good nostalgia.
Also, you were fat.
My work here is done.
Even then, you were the odd ball out. You wore canvas shoes because the regular Black shoes weren't polished. As always managed to sell some story to Miss Naaz & escaped punishment. Story telling then & story selling now... is the difference. Good job.. keep it up baby
way to go gal! I dont dare to even think that u wud remember me..no fault of urs..its d girl who always had her roll no. after urs rght frm std 1 till we passed out of school! U hv written a splended article! Kp up d good work! U have many more tales to tell i m sure!
Mini-miss India moment. That cracked me up. In fact, the first paragraph set the tone to the whole write-up. Impressive as always ;) Keep entertaining us
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