Blast from the past
I think memory always becomes hazy and soft tinted as we look back at our school days. I think our memory becomes what we want to remember about ourselves rather than, you know, those unflattering truths. So here I sat, with lofty ideas about my school life, when one of my classmates sent out pictures from our 10th grade send off party.
To say it was a jolt would be an understatement.
I mean, what was I thinking? I was wearing a 3/4th “puffed” sleeved salwar suit that could fit two more of me inside it. The neck of the dress was almost non-existent, almost like the tailor had decided before-hand that he wanted to stitch a polo neck anyways, to heck with whatever neck design I gave him. My eyebrows were as bushy as well fed caterpillars taking a nap and my hair was pulled back really tight in a french plait. I WAS everything I would make fun of today.
My first reaction was to call my mom and ask her how she could have let me go out of the house dressed like that. My mom, ofcourse claimed that she never remembered that salwar, and that I should have probably worn one of my aunts’ salwars and trotted off, like I usually did back then (Ahem….another memory that was conviniently wiped out). In all fairness, my mom has ensured that she always got the best stuff stitched for me and drilled it into my head that I should wear things that FIT me, but somehow this salwar did not look like it belonged to any of my aunts. I remember buying the fabric – for myself. Anyways, I moved on to more important accusations like ahy she combed my hair in such an unflattering fashion and why she did not let me get my eyebrows done like every other girl in my class. Ok ok…I DO remember that my first tryst with threading was not exactly a success and I swore off it for many years, so that could not have been my mother’s fault, but you know, it is nice to have someone to blame.
K ofcourse was laughing his a** off till he could laugh no more after seeing those photos, which was not very helpful either. I am just waiting for one of his awkward photos to pop up so that I can return the favor. And I don’t have to work too hard at it – all I have to do is ask my FIL to show me some old pictures of K and he will promptly oblige and pull out giant albums filled with photos and exclaim how his son wsa so handsome he could have become a film star. People in glass houses K….remember that.
So the one thing I have learnt from all this is that, the next time I spot an awkwardly dressed teen, I will send out a silent prayer to help get them out of their disillusions before they go to college. And no, I won’t snigger at them.
Entry filed under: Random Banter.