A Life Full of Risks

After all the ages of experience, I thought that I had learnt the art. But, yesterday I proved myself wrong. Again. That too, through a painful act, drawing quite some blood.

It wasn’t some daredevil act where I spilled blood. Getting injured is certainly painful. No doubt about it. But, when you go past the painful period, you will step into the nicer side of getting injured. Now, believe me when I say that there is something nice about injury – something macho, boastful, sort of bravado. All the pain you go through is worthwhile if you have a good story behind it. Who on earth would not like to be in a position to narrate something dramatic like:

“Well, I got this scratch when I dived to take that blinder-of-a-catch. But, I didn’t drop the ball. We won the match because of that catch”

“Nothing serious. Just a sprain. It is an unavoidable part of every athlete’s life”

“I don’t know how that moron got a driver’s license. No doubt he would have bought it. If only I hadn’t been alert, anything could have happened”

“You know, that was a terrible… terrible accident. I was lucky to escape with minor injuries”

“That @#$%^ was a freaking dinosaur. King Kong. All brawn and no brain. My martial arts came handy. These scratches are nothing compared to what I did to him. I am sure he won’t be able to move for at least a week”

“I was just trying to save the kitten which was too scared to get down the tree. Unfortunately, it misunderstood me”

But, what happened to me yesterday was nowhere near any of the reasons listed above. There is nothing to be proud of my injuries. I can’t go around proclaiming that I drew latitudes and longitudes on my face while shaving. Of all the things, SHAVING. How depressing. Phew.

May be the new razor Dad bought for me was too sharp (Aren’t razors meant to be sharp?). May be, I was thinking about “Phoonk” which I had watched earlier. A cut above the upper lip, one in the chin and a third in the base of neck. One more in the left thumb while cleaning the razor.

Shaving ccould end up being as violent and bloody act as anything you can imagine about.

The Four Eyed Me

It happened just recently. Probably, the few years of reading in the traveling vehicle had taken its toll. I certainly was not a nerd. My academic scores will prove me true. May be, it was my phobia towards non-veg food that diluted my vision. Or, it was because of the Computer and TV screens that I watch all day.

There is no point in investigating the cause. The damage was already done. The reality was – I WAS GETTING FREAKING BLIND. Realization of the defect in my vision was a slow process.

“There he comes. Our Dad”
“Oh… Is it ours?”

“Isn’t she cute?”
“Really?”

“Damn the school administration. They have ordered for the inferior markers again. And I am not able to make out what is written on the board”

“Am I seated in a strategically wrong place? With all the reflection, refraction, diffraction and a hell lot of other optical phenomenon around me, I am unable to read what is written on the board”

“The TV is getting old and should be replaced. The text is too blurred. Poor old CRT. It is counting its days”

“How on earth is he able to read the smaller letters in the signboard?”

“What happened to my cricketing skills? Why do I drop too many catches these days? And, why do I nick the ball to the keeper too often?”

“I am okay. I am not weeping. It is the pollution in the air. I guess my eyes are too sensitive to the dust”

“The headache. Oh. Not again…”

But slowly I realized that the problem was with my vision and not with the world around me.

“What are you doing?” The doctor asked.

[What? Am I not just sitting in front of you?] “Mm… Studying…in 10th".

"Oh, Boards year, eh?"he said. I expected that sentence.

"What are you gonna opt for after 10th?" he asked inquisitively.

"Er.. Science, with Computer Science...”

“Oh. The computer guy” he said with a knowing smile “You people sit so near the glowing screen.”

[Come on. Do you really expect me to sit away from the computer screen? Like I watch the TV?]

“Myopia” he said, matter-of-factedly “Would you like to go for the glasses or the contact lenses?”

[Contact lenses? Those flimsy things that need to be place inside my eyelids? Are you kidding?] “I’ll have the glasses” I said fast.

I got my glasses in a couple of days. The whole world seemed brighter and clearer when I wore them. Originally, I used to wear the glasses only while reading. But I know that gradually my bespectacled period of the day would increase. A day will come when I wear them all day except when I sleep.

Third World Ugly

Me and Shaaz was walking to Rolla from Mega Mall.

“You know I’m still telling you, that Lebanese girl seriously kept on gazing at me. Doesn’t she look like Shakira?. Dude, you know I’m not lying. Seriously, I’m not. I’M NOT LYING!!!.”

Shaaz have been repeating these sentences for the last half an hour through various different ways as possible. There were only very few occasions were he loses his marbles. Falling in love with an anonymous Lebanese Shakira look-alike was one of them.

Honestly, I thought she looked like anything but Shakira. The girl we saw had a face, body and legs which were beautiful, normal and ugly respectively. So I thought she didn’t look particularly like any Celebrity. Not Shaaz though.

“Will you drop it, Shaaz? I’ve had enough. Do you mind keeping up? We need to get to Rolla before the movie starts.”, I said. I’ve honestly had enough.

“You’re just jealous, dude.”, he said with a smirk I never liked.

“For what?”, I stammered back.

“Didn’t you notice how she was staring at a brother?”, he said drawing himself up.

“What’s this rubbish? She didn’t even looked at you!”, I laughed it off.

“As I said, you’re just jealous, Shahbaz… I’m tall, fair, athletic and handsome while you’re short, dark, out of shape and third world ugly”

Well, I was lost for words sure. But third-world-ugly?. Am I so deep down the pits? I know I’m shorter than what my age requires, darker than anyone in my family and definitely what you call out of shape. But third world ugly?.

Shaaz was 2 years younger than me and around 4 inches taller than me.(How could this happen???) We’re best friends for years now. Ofcourse his body is athleticly built, he was quite fair, and tall enough.

I know I’ve got a better tongue than him though. But I would be lost for words when I’m emotionally hurt. But having build the rapport, I decided to give a comeback.

“I’m not third world ugly. Women think I’m cute…”

I saw a snoopy tattoo on the arms of a lady passing by.

“…like Snoopy.”, I said defensively with an example.

“Well, Shahbaz… Snoopy is like six inches taller than you are.” he said

I looked at him fiercely. He was staring at me fiercely as well. We sized each other up and then… we both blurted out laughing at the same time. Some things… Never change…

Why I changed to WordPress

If there is anyone in this world who’s still interested in reading in my gibberish, they would be wondering why I suddenly opted out from using the blogspot to wordpress. Well, It’s the survival of the fittest you see. And I personally think WordPress is definitely a better option than Blogspot because, uh.. well, It’s got better options.

You can view my Wordpress blog at http://www.djmallu.wordpress.com

But the important thing is, I’d still be blogging no matter what response I get from anyone. Yes, in both the Blogger Machines.

Adios,

Yours ambidextrously,

Shahbaz

The YLP Mini Camp.

This time, it was different.
This time, it was definitely different.
This time, it was definitely different. Spiritually, Philosophically, Ecumenically, Dramatically, Grammatically.... Yeah Yeah, I'm coming to the point!!

I dunno what was better this time in CIGI. Everything seems to have improved.( I still don't know why)

Since the last YLP, I've been longing to have an other go at it. And I needed to rock to the core once and for all. And it really did happen this time, even though it was not a real YLP.

I dunno what was better this time...

The talented groups called Starlets, The Optimistic Thinkers and The Caped Crusaders..? Or was it Anilka leaving his crosswords behind and coming up with a crazy maze..? Or was it those sessions which was focused only on telling how special and talented each of us are..? Or was it those sessions which made us communicate..? Or was it those sessions which helped us to work as a team and improve our team spirit..? Or was it that activity in which team mates were made to rate each other..? Or was it that activity in which we were made to list out all our achievements and plus-points, where some of them got a whooping total of 1446 and all..? Or was it those sessions which I kept on winning prizess..?? Or was it that Presidential Election in which I sucked to the core..? Or was it that Dice-Throwing-Game through which I learned never to sit with Bilal when I need to get lucky (Yes, I threw it three times and luck didn't favour me all those 3 times. So being a Malayali, I need to blame someone shouldn't I?)..? Or was it the food..?

As I've said... The above mentioned stuffs were the highlights that I noted. (Just leave those few points towards the end which were madeabout myself.)

Unlike the previous YLPs and camps, I, personally, never felt it seemed to drag atleast one bit not even in one of those serious sessions. This time, everything was based on activities,which were extremely cool and it really cut down the boredom and the sleepiness.

And one more thing. When I was put into a group, I was disappointed to see a couple of people who talk really less. But towards the end, the Cigians gave them that boost of confidence and made them an integral part in making my day and becoming the best Male Performer at the Asia Music Institute.

Hats off to you Guys!!! You never fail to surprise me. Thank you.

Yours ambidextrously,
Shahbaz.