MY WORST DOWNFALL…!

For those who know me well, can completely relate if I say, I attract embarrassing situations like a magnet!

Whether it’s tripping inside my own room or while climbing up the stairs in public or saying just the wrong words at the wrong time, or just talking out-loud, I’ve mastered the art of awkwardness.

I can write endless stories on embarrassing things that have ever happened to me but I am quoting this for now because again for people who know about me are aware of the fact that I am prone to falling and I wonder, I have yet to break a bone.

I was in high school then and I just changed my school from all girls to co-education, and for those of you who had been in my shoes, must know how difficult and nervous that makes you in real world or should I say in boy’s world. I never talked to any boys apart from my cousins before that and my friend list were filled with all girls since childhood.

As is ‘normal’ with that age, I wanted to make a good first impression on boys and finally make friends with them.

As I reached my class I saw a boy too cute for that age sitting on the seat designated to me by class teacher in the first row. I was obviously on cloud nine and thanked my stars. I played ‘cool’ throughout and we really seemed to hit it off. I was really enjoying our short talks in between the classes which were entirely different to what I used to talk about with my ‘girl gang’ and even before I knew I had butterfly’s in my stomach and I was literally staring and smiling at him all through the day. Yes, and by the end of the day he became my first crush!

Blame the 90’s film makers, I played and re-played a scene in my thoughts:

As the bell  would ring, I will start to walk out of the class, will reach the door,  I will turn back a bit, will give him ‘that look’ and flash the pearly white smile, flip my hair playfully and walk out the door, keeping him thinking about me all day long.  I felt no less than an actress imagining all this at that time!

As the bell rang, I shot up to play that scene in real!

I was the first to the door and I opened it, turned back just a bit and caught his gaze, gave him that look with a smile and HE SMILED BACK AT ME!

It was a Win-win! I was thrilled!

But being the Klutz that I was, my foot caught the door, then I hit myself in the face with the corner of the door and I head-planted onto the concrete right in front of him. I do not use the phrase head-planted lightly, as for unknown minutes I was unconscious and as I regained consciousness I could feel the pain and blood at the back of my head.

As I came to senses of what had happened, I saw him standing there offering to help with a concerned look, he was the one that helped me to the Emergency room and I felt like dying the entire way there!

Not to mention I avoided him for days after that incident!

P.S. he did became my friend later that year! 

What I learnt from that incident and several others is, its always best to brush off fleeting moments of public humiliations, as they definitely don’t define ‘you’ for the rest of your lives!

Well, you can surely take this advice from someone who has been there and done that!

(PICTURE CREDIT: GOOGLE INC.)

​THE BUCKET THAT OVERFLOWED…

I am sure I have many embarrassing moments in my life. But when I really got down to writing about them my brain froze. It must be one of those survival tactics of my brain which blocks out all unpleasant memories. Anyways I want to share an embarrassing occasion of my life which might not be very hilarious but it really made me look like a fool.
I was in class XI. And like any other teenager I had a huge stage fright. I had done many dance performances on stage but what really scared me was the mic. Addressing an audience was not my cup of tea.

A debate competition was being organised in our colony. Since the number of kids in my age group were less they we coaxing all of us to take part. I flatly refused. But don’t know why my Dad was keen that I take part. Maybe because he wanted to pull me out of my shell or maybe because he has been so good at these kind of things and he must be hoping that I would follow his footsteps.

Whatever the reason I found my name in the list of participants. I haughtily declared that I won’t put in any extra efforts. I told my Dad that since he has given my name as participant he will have to write the debate for me. My dear Papa helped me prepare. He almost wrote the whole debate for me with some very brilliant points in it. I should have cashed in on this splendid opportunity but I went around behaving like I was doing them a favour by participating.

To cut the long story short. I was finally on the stage. And I almost read through my speech in a monotone. And came back to my seat. “Phew it’s over and done with. Thank God.” And then they announced the question session or something like that where debaters can question or challenge the points raised by other debaters. “Oh My God! Now what is this? No one ever told me about this.” And to my horror one debater got up and challenged a point in my speech. I was supposed to get up and reply. But I didn’t have any clue. “I was not paying attention when I needed to and now I am in a soup.

I got up from my seat went up to the mic and did what any normal teenager does in such a situation. I burst into tears.  That’s what my system does to me. The buckets in my eyes overflow easily and at all the wrong times.

I was mortified, I rushed from the stage. And to add salt to my already wounded ego finally when the prizes were announced I was given the consolation prize.  It felt like they were pacifying a cry-baby. I feel sorry because I must have embarrassed my Dad also after so much hard work that he put in for me. Well! I guess we all have a few moments in our lives that we want either to erase or change. 

(PICTURE CREDIT: GOOGLE INC.)

HOW ON EARTH I AM IN THE MIDST OF BABIES?

I, being a person who enjoys making fun about my own self, I rarely have any embarrassing moments as such that can really entertain my readers. Yeah, I had two such moments where I had to be embarrassed because I could not hold back my bursting bladder but let loose on a crowded street in my trouser once and in a cab another time. The first incident I had already shared in the comment section of Pradita’s article “Looking for the Loo” and the second one was quite similar to the first one, so I don’t want repeat it again.

Let me share something today which might be quite different than what others have shared or will be sharing.

It was in 2001, February 20th, when I had my second heart surgery. The surgery was over but I was in complete darkness and haze because of the effects of anaesthesia till the next morning. When a nurse woke me up in the morning the very next day, I heard cries of babies all around my bed in the Intensive Care Unit of Manipal Heart Foundation, Bangalore. I saw the morning shift nurses were looking at me with a confusing expressions reflecting on their faces while taking over the duty from the night shift nurses. I thought maybe the young nurses were fascinated by my handsome persona and that’s why they were discussing about me with each other… But I was in such a pain, that I was not so mindful of what they were thinking or discussing. Remember, I just had an open heart surgery a day ago and I was in a state where I only could thank my God for granting me another life.

Minutes later, I realised what they were discussing about me when I overheard a nurse asking a senior nurse in charge of me, “how come this patient of 25 years old was brought in to this Paediatric ICU?” The senior nurse smiled and walked close to me saying, “This is my 25 years old baby who was kept here because there might be a shortage of beds in the adult wards”. And all of them giggled looking at me though not in a bad intention yet I felt embarrassed wondering, why on earth I was between all the babies around me. I forced a smile looking at my nurse but was really mortified to know where I was at that moment as I tried to look around painfully tilting my neck, to see only babies and their cutie nurses all around their respective beds. Soon, to my utter dismay, I realised I was bare completely under the sheets like a new born baby while there were young nurses all around me. When one of them did the whole body sponging and her fingers caressed through my bare skin, at those uncomfortable areas of me, it made me feel embarrassed all the more.  Although I knew there’s no alternative to it and she was just doing what she was supposed to do. Probably, I would have enjoyed the bath if I would have been in a different scenario but not at least in the condition I was in that time. :p

Later that evening when my surgeon came to see me, my first question to him was, “Doc, why am I in a Paediatric ICU?” And it was a new revelation for me as well as the nurses around me when he addressed my question… “Chiradeep, you are a congenital heart patient. Your heart and lungs didn’t develop as of a normal adult and thus a Paediatric Cardiologist can only understand the movements taking place in your body much better than anyone else. That is the reason why you are in this particular ICU.”

After two days, I was shifted to a normal adult ward to my relief and did all my routines on my own that were supposed to be done privately.

Now, years later when I visit my specialist, I wait for my doctor in the OPD sitting along with the babies all around. When I go to the counter to register, they ask, “Where’s the patient, where’s the baby?” And I answer them politely with a smile, “I am the one, I am the patient… I have congenital heart problem and I am supposed to be shown to the Paediatric Cardiologist”.

It has become a habit for me now to get a surprise look from people about me as there are very few like me who must be moving around in the crowd. But I would say, my embarrassment 18 years back was not because of my silly mistakes or oops moments but it was because of a lifestyle that was in the process of being set for me inimitably by God over which I didn’t have any control at all. When I recall all, which have happened in my life in the past or still happening now, I get marvelled and gather them as precious lessons for my life and for the life of others to embrace them, to learn from them and to live.

Stay Blessed!

(Picture Credit: Google Inc.)

COMPULSIVE LIAR I WAS….

*Note: I wanted to narrate an embarrassing and awkward situation where I was locked in a toilet as I goofed up between Push and Pull but since my friend Pradita penned such a hilarious incident around Toilet, I didn’t want to repeat myself, so here I go…

Before you jump your guns let me finish the title.  I “WAS” a compulsive liar as a child when it was about home work (that’s it). I loathed it.  I preferred scanning books and digesting the content rather than filling pages (I wasn’t an environmentalist either😂) except for mathematics, because that’s the only way to practice that practical subject.

In that wake my notebooks were always (more or less) incomplete. For example if an exercise had five questions I would submit the work with three.  Rest decoration scores. But I had a trump card up my sleeves that I played really well for years. I was an asthmatic patient as a child that kept me absent quite often from school. With such health issues it showed on my outwardly appearance, I was feeble, lean and thin. So whenever homework was demanded  and i knew it was incomplete, that used to be time for Lights, Camera, Action!  I woul act naive with a face drawn long saying ” Mam, I wasn’t well, couldn’t finish my homework, I am sorry” and would smoothly escape from their wrath as my teachers loved me immensely.  I am thankful for their love.

A lie is a lie nevertheless and this time I was in soup.

But curtains were drawn soon to my act. I was in seventh standard, it was English class, notebooks were on teacher’s table. Notebooks were coming back to students with remarks and signatures.  And it was then my turn.  Pages were being turned, so are the colours on my teachers face before it finally settled at red. And I knew that I was caught and game over.  There was a huge difference in handwriting. My mother finished my notes as I was really down with fever.  She only wanted to help me.  She used to do it for me whenever I was unable to attend classes but this time it was directly in notebook.  Bad decision or decision turned bad but purely bad luck.

My English teacher was furious this time and she didn’t finish yet as my science teacher along with my Hindi (Indian language) teacher entered the classroom and soon they knew the reason for their colleague’s flaring up tempers.  They had same set of complains to make. It was like 123 Jet Set Go! “Her notebooks are never complete, everytime she has same excuse.  Bring us your other notebooks” pat comes a booming sound and the bad day was getting worse.  Story was same.  I had just one notebook where as the second one was happily laying eggs at home that fateful day. I felt cornered with shame. It was so embarrassing that I wished either it was a dream or if I could travel back in time and finish my notebooks with my own handwriting.

Being a bright student and one of teachers’ favourite I never faced such a flak and that too in front of the whole class.  I couldn’t lift my eyes from ground but could feel another 39 pair (correction – 42 pairs) of eyes fixed on me.  And to make the matter worse my science teacher passed an ordinance ” you are not going anywhere till you finish your work”, she was stern fortunately to be softened little later.

I learnt that day that one shouldn’t overuse the “Sympathy Card” till it tears away leaving you embarrassed beyond words could explain.  But I am fortunate enough that my teachers don’t remember me for that incident.  They have fond memories of me.