Unscripted: Baby Steps


18th August 2000,
“It’s a boy!” Chubby, cherub, healthy bundle of elastin. A bouncy baby boy. I still got questions by the way! But this is not the forum. This is a story about me after nine months of tossing and turning and kicking. Nine months of flipping my mother’s gut inside out every morning and the next few years of driving her insane. Honestly, I’d apologize but by this moment I am not supposed to make sense to these people so cheers to my forgiving and loving mom. I was a bundle of trouble.

I immediately get into work and I’m all sleeves up into my career for the next two to three years. The crying isn’t going to do itself and it’s amazing how everyone is always upto making you stop. The Big Guy upstairs wasn’t wrong. It’s an ultimate bargain tool. Sort of a post-featal life hack or something and every once in a while, I’d whisk one up just for the attention. But that’s not the only thing in this job description. I’m still finalizing on contracts and MoU’s for every single organ and muscle. Yes, we got paper work and these guys are rebels. For starters, it took me a year to get me mobile. My left hand, however, took longer than usual to finalize. Nineteen years down the line and the most it could do is hold the slice when spreading the margarine. A parasitic twin!

“They told me think with my head not that thing in my chest”

The Chainsmokers ft. Kelsea Ballerini

The heart. The revolutionist that was – and is – always at crossroads with my decisions. He has a soft spot for everything and the sensitive one in this relationship. Fast forward to puberty and he costed everyone of us. He’s a mosaic. Shattered completely but even then there’s still beauty in that and I let him dictate some things every once in a while. Maybe it’s out of pity or maybe it’s for the limbic euphoria which I so much enjoy. Why? Because love is a cocktail with dopamine for a chaser. Is it good? I still have no idea. But it knocks me out for a while and for once, I don’t have to think about the risks. Atleast not right then. Gratification like instant coffee! In Leman’s terms, “Kesi baadae.”

Other than that, I have a perfect life. A cry for buzzer and a couple of “butlers” that is mom and dad. What more could you ask from life? I like it here! A little hopscotch to the age of three and mom has me in a monochromatic ocean blue overall and shirt. I don’t mind it. I’ve been in worse and none at all before. Ofcourse I know what is happening. Black shoes, Monochromatic attire, 6:00AM IN THE MORNING!!! I mean it’s logic.

The drive was a give or take a bottle of milk from home. The place was abit unusual but what do I know. I’m three. There’s a postage just before the gate that I’m immediately drawn to. If I could read by then, it would have probably spelt out KiNdErGaRtEn. But I can’t, so as far I am concerned, I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M. They had a grown-up that I can’t call aunty for once. That’s a relief. She introduced herself as the teacher. To be specific Rosemary. Madam Rosemary. She has a little talk with mom like they always do before she leaves to bring the ice-cream. I was a patient kid until when Madam Rosemary had my hand and Mom bid me hers.

Day-care?!?

To summarise it up that was probably the beginning of all my woes which have managed  to follow me to Med School. Which reminds me, I have an examination in two days people. Au Revoir!

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