My first grade kept going just fine and I was really good at studies . peerlessly good , for the sake of precision . The teachers accoladed me every chance they got using every organ of their body to sing songs in my glory. I even remember scoring a 100/100 once .(true story!)

Plus, I was good at drawing the entire year except on the day of the “drawing exam” . We were supposed to carry colors and I was armed to the teeth carrying all sorts of them .
The subject to be drawn was ‘a fish’ , so I delved deep into my imaginary sacred space for a moment and came out with a rocking hellish dope of an idea . It was the dead little grey colored fish I had found lying in my garden in the wake of the rainy season (and that was the only one I’d ever seen.)

So in the entire foolscap sized sheet , I used as much space as Sri Lanka on a world map and drew a fish which rather looked like a sperm (since I was bent on making it ‘Life-Size’) . Gray was the only color I used and my teacher didn’t know what to make of it. She simply apprehended that I had used my pencil for coloring it as I hadn’t brought a set along and tiraded me till she went out of breath.
What she didn’t know , however , was that it was a fuckingly brilliant dead fish and taking into account my minuscule worldly experience , it was as good as it gets , and that I preferred being realistic rather than and  copying that same old trite exotic bullshitty made-up-shit-of-a-fish they show on elementary school books – the thoroughbred ones with 3 fucking fins and all the colors of the rainbow spewing through their holy bellies. Mine was frail , small and monochromatic . 
I never retorted because I thought it was unbecoming of me to talk back to elders on such petty issues.

As for TUK , I always kept mum , because back then ,while I’d just hatched out of my egg , no one expected me to have a girlfriend. Furthermore , I had no idea what to do about it.


The senior girls , though , adored me like the scented holy poop of Jesus himself , playing with me , pulling my cheeks , tying shoelaces and carrying me on their laps all the way while we traveled back home in the army bus at the end of school . Notwithstanding , never did I seem to enjoy it . Moreover , it peeved me up . Such naivety !!

Though I don’t remember her name , I remember the name of one of her friends. It was ‘Urvashi’ , as best as I can remember. I remember it, not because I was more interested in her friend , but because the only memory I have of something been said by her was something along the lines of – “….Urvashi ke paas hai” (it’s with Urvashi) . She said this while rushing out the classroom once , and for some reason , this was the last sentence I remember of her. So I remember the other girl’s name because of this faint memory of her. artless innocence yeah.

Soon we finished up with the first grade and were promoted to second. I wasn’t any different except that now we had to haul our asses right till the farthest end of the school where lay our classroom , in some butt-fuck, Egypt !
Our new class teacher had this odd habit of making kids sit on the floor when she found them up to any sort of misconduct, and it so happened once that I was busy chattering with my lads when a loud cry burst through the air – “come back and sit down!!”
I almost reflexively perched my bottom on the cleanest spot on the floor.
“not on the floor , on the bench” were the exact words and I remember them without any adulteration . My face flushed red out of embarrassment and for the first time I wished she’d actually told me to sit on the floor itself.

That was when I realized that I did , though minuscule , have some sense of social standing and in hindsight , I reckon it was solely because of TUK.

The same cruel lady again had my self worth in smithereens when I committed some mischief and as a punitive measure she had my hands held tight by two guys and my face slapped . Slapped by none other than the high and mighty TUK . How come she knew I had  a crush on her ?
Her hands , though , were soft as cashmere and I loved the texture and the fact that she hadn’t actually hit me . She’d all but caressed my cheeks which again , amounted to getting my hopes high .

But , the final curtain fell soon after .
I Pooped !

I pooped , that too in the just-inaugurated air conditioned multimedia lab vouchsafing myself the distinction of being the first human ever to poop in that AC lab. I had asked them if I could go poop . They said , in a spirit of play , “do it here if you wish to”. They had inadvertently summoned Satan himself . The Satan that poops. and OOPS ! they had no idea of my unfathomable naivety and the reynolds number of my poop action . Soon I was kicked out and found myself in the toilet . I tried to make up stories, but to no avail.

Later , a girl came to me and said – “the entire school now knows you pooped, my deepest condolences “ . She’d come to pay her respects .
That was the last straw , the final nail in my coffin . My entire fill of amour propre was broken to shards . I never mustered enough courage so much as to lock eyes with TUK again.

At the end of the day , when I stood waiting for my bus , I overheard some Bengali guy say to his brother – “dada , ee hogg diya ” (“bro , he’s the one who pooped”)
Yea Bitch! I hogg diya ! so what ??
I lost some weight .
I’m the master of my own will , which includes my excretory system too.
I’ll live life on my own terms.

P.S.- That was the day I shunned the construction that Bengalis were a human species.
goodbye for now.


Inescapable pigeon droppings: a story for the romantically challenged
Inescapable Pigeon Droppings: chapter-2 :TUK


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