Being Honest!

I was seated at a roadside cafe and while sipping the most treasured part of my day, cappuccino duet when my eyes went on an article titled “Art of Confession”. My mind propelled itself with its much needed doses of bewitched thoughts and started spinning as fast a table fan. I soon got all impervious to my surroundings, overlooking the article which instigated my much lethal thought process. My mind rustled and went to and fro from all the candid confessions I have or should have done, searching for the best ones to be shared. And here they are..........don’t drop your jaws please.....




1. I fell in love for the first time when I ceased being 6.

I would not be called sordid if I called it a summer romance. He was my partner and we were to tap our feet together on the summer carnival. The song meant for the D-day could not be better than the most cherished track “I am a Barbie girl”. I indeed felt like one. I could never make a clean breast of how much I fantasised about going on a private picnic with him (I was too kiddo like to think about a dinner date).and was reticent about the lovely pair of eyes he was blessed with. It all ended 2 months later and I cried myself to sleep.......until I fell in love again, this time with a boy with pool blue eyes.



2 I stole a copy of Mills and Boons from my mother’s bookshelf.

I had advanced a year into my teens and was skimming through piles of books at Crosswords when a neon coloured shelf grabbed my attention. Why on earth this books store will colour a section in neon shades when the rest had hues of dull brown and yellow?. I went up to take a morsel of the delights lying there and suddenly was confronted by my mother with a stern look on her face. I knew this was fishy. Later that night i carefully scanned all the books and hit the jackpot. From then onwards I knew why it was painted with neon tinges.



3 I was too scrupulous about the tangible existence of Santa.

Though it’s really hurting to admit this one, it is fairly pivotal too. I grew up banking on Santa for all my credulous and illegitimate needs. I was a staunch believer in the fact that Santa does come on the Christmas Eve. My belief came crashing down the year my mother candidly confessed of being my Santa of past 13 years. I can still feel the pain I felt that moment and how I detested her for making the statement. For the first time I was ripped naked of my belief.



4 I was caught red handed while exchanging exam papers with my best friend

So was the pressure the poor kid had to handle. I didn’t score well that year in my maths monthly exam. Unable to cope up with the failure I decided to steal my best friend who scored a 30 on 30. I could not master mind it properly (what would you expect from a 9 year old) and was eventually caught in the process.



5 I was heartbroken when Tom Cruise married Katie Holmes (I really was)

Oh I can never elope out that memory. How crazy I went to hear the wedding was over. Sudden rush of despair ran through my fingers and slowly sped into my blood. I was heartbroken again for the...ehhh...Leave It.! Till the time I grinned over my DVD collection to have barred the pearl harbour DVD to go out of sight. I watched it again for the 11th time and instantly fell in love with Ben Affleck I decided not to pry over his personal life.

Tet-e-tet with Jerks...

It’s been 3 years since my dad whims about me acquiring a new skill to my list of possessions. And I am equally paranoid about the idea of giving up my whimsical navigations via DTC buses. He fails to understand my inclinations towards what I find amusing in the overtly packed buses where sometimes while travelling u can tell in a whiff what the person had eaten in for lunch or sometime u can easily make out the detail of the tiff he had with his wife early that morning. For me these concise voyages (I prefer calling them that) are much more than whiffs and tiffs. They made me acquainted with jerks and jolts of life which I seldom used to encounter.


   I still feel the whiff of the vivid memories of the day I tried to get a scoop of travelling by public transport. Though the circumstances were in prejudice against my act, it could stop me to assay for it. I was 14 then and being that was no mean feat. Notions of PETA and WWF were slowly carving niches into my brain walls which were coated with thick emulsions of lethal connotations. Apart from getting good ranks and holding president badges, saving the environment was high on to my fancy. Publicising the use of public transport could not be done without actually following the path of “Practice what you preach.” so I decided to en route my Olympiad exam on a DTC bus. It was a sunny day in January which brightened my spirits at the threshold of the day itself. I waited for the bus which would have taken me to my desired destination. It arrived 15 minutes later.

   A sudden stride of people engulfed me in their herd and started to run towards the bus. I was quite astonished to see the sudden transformation of people of cricket playing nation to the soccer’s one.
I too ran along and managed to board the bus which was so jammed that it was quite impossible to even move your eyelids (I pensively mean the statement). From shots of trifle jerks, I kept standing hooked to a seat (by no mean I was to get it). in a spurt, the bus took a sharp turn and made the passengers tossed up in the air. I rolled over to the rear end of the bus and fell on my knees. My eyes rummaged through the crowds for my dad but he was nowhere to be found. Disappointed I wanted to break into tears but suddenly it dawned on me that my tears will wipe away my new found companion “FREEDOM”. I was at no cost ready to be parted with it. I stood up without a single tear and moved on.

   I will always thank my first jerk for giving me the morsel of freedom. From that day I have developed an infectious liking to the jerks. They have become a part of me. I always trust their judgments and abide by them.