That photo is me faking it, trying to appear like some brave kid. :PRight, after a long break, and after deciding to bunk college tomorrow, or today taking cognizance of the fact it is already 3 AM, I decided to pen down something that’s been bothering me for quite a long time now. With my parents sleeping, and my dog finally asleep too, I am now free to write. This, do note, will be an extremely personal post, so people who do not know me personally might as well take a break.
Firstly, this is not some complex topic with double meaning, when I say fears; I mean, bluntly, things I am scared of. You will see my bulky frame, and you’d think, on seeing me, I’m this brave kid who fears nothing. NO I am not. I’m a bloody coward. I have plenty of materialistic fears. “Nothing in life is to be feared, just understood”. Shut up, will you!?
Be aware that I’m not at all proud of what I’m going to write about now. I want to face my fears, but I cannot, I never could till now. I’m just going to start naming them now. You might accuse me of terrible pusillanimity but I wouldn’t care less.
FEAR 1: Lord Vold**ort :
That guy is a bloody genius. He’s never failed to give me the butterflies. My fear for You-Know-Who started right from the first book. I am and always was used to reading novels at night, before I slept. This, mind you, was before I saw the character of the Dark Lord in the movies. It was when I was in the fifth grade, I believe, when we had just shifted and I was just getting used to living in a separate room. It was the part where Harry, Quirrel, and the Dark Lord meet together in front of the Mirror of Erised. I remember reading that part, and on reading “Let me speak to him, face to face” and “he lies, he lies!” I got so terrified I jumped up from my bed, shouted “aaarrghhh” out loud and barged into my parent’s bedroom. My Dad, on hearing me, was already up, and had the quizzical look upon his face. I slept in between them that night! Next day I completed that part, in broad daylight. Chamber of Secrets had no problem, nor did Prisoner of Azkaban. Goblet of Fire made me shiver. Bloody stinking jobless twerp Wormtail, “The Dark Lord shall rise again!” I went “Mumma!!!” I refrained from ejaculating another “aargh” as I was considerable older, grade 7, I believe, by then.
“Bone of the father, unknowingly given, will renew your son.” *shiver*
“Flesh of the servant, willingly given, will revive your master.” *brrr-brrr*
“Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will, resurrect your foe.” * “aaaargh”*
So much for being in grade 7 and all that tosh. There it came again. Into my parent’s room. Spent the night there. Some time passed. The next night, I opened the manifestation of some of my worst fears, the chapter “The Death Eaters.” That wasn’t what made me clutch my blanket over my head though, it was the thing written on the previous page, “Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes, and a nose that was as flat as a snake’s, with slits for nostrils…Lord Vold—ort had risen again.”
“Aaaaarghh”, I went. Jumped off my bed, went to my parent’s bedroom. A prepared Mum looked at me, “Give me the book, I’m throwing it away.” Went back into my room, lied down, went ahead, with part of the blanket over my head, and the bedsheets wrapped around me, sitting like you excrete faeces in an ancient Indian toilet. I looked like one of them hooded Death Eaters, myself.
“Voldem—t raised one of his long white fingers, and put it very close to Harry’s cheek.” BANG. Book slammed shut>>I-pod>>Hey Jude>>Slumber.
This went on for some time, till finally I completed the chapter, and the chapter “Priori Incantatem” with the ipod in my ears for the whole time.
Seeing the movie Goblet of Fire was scary too, with the character of Vol--mort coming right against the camera, I remember distinctly shifted my butt behind in the seat and closing my eyes and trying to shut my ears off too.
Book Five, had some scary parts. Book six was very mysterious. The past of the Dark Lord not only made me fear his power, but also respect his shrewdness.
Book seven was damn scary too, and this part almost made me cry.
“‘Harry Potter’, he said very softly. His voice might have been part of the spitting fire. ‘The boy who lived.’
Voldem—t had raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear.
He saw the mouth move, and the flash of green light, and everything was gone.”
HP killed him in some time, and one of my fears, though NOT MY WORST FEAR, was destroyed. That said, reading parts of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named consternates me to this date. All hail, the Dark Lord.
FEAR 2 : MY OWN STRENGTH.
<< My mutant fist! Be scared, be very scared!
I know this sounds bigheaded, but what the heck. This is something I fear, and if any bullies are reading this, buzz off! As you’ve read and seen, I’m a big guy :P This has many advantages. You can intimidate people, you can push yourself through crowds, you can block people effortlessly while playing football, etc. It has its disadvantages too. You tend to break things. I’ve had so many such experiences. I had got into this fight [which was my only big fight] with my neighbour from my old colony, when I was around nine. He was a year younger, and I remember beating him up real bad. I was myself surprised to see the damage I’d caused. I reduced him to tears in no time. It’s something I regret to this day. I remember going back home and crying my eyes off, since the guy was my best friend, then. I decided then, and people don’t really know this, that I’m never going to indulge in a physical brawl of such intensity EVER again. I rarely ever lost it after that. After that, the only relation DD has with physical brawls is when he is on the sidelines, cheering the two fighters, or being the basic cause of the fight and slipping away in the end. That said, I’ve still had one or two bad incidents. Those friendly pushes on the back from me have sometimes led to people falling down, not causing much damage, but still indicating how much damage this mutant can cause. Especially Chinmay Deval, I have to hand it to the guy, he usually bore the brunt of my physical oppression! All of us still love to trouble him once in a while, but that’s nothing serious, he’s just an awesome punching bag. Anyway, all this eventuates in me laughing off those manly punches on the back, the arm etc.
<< That's Chinmay Deval!
The football field is another worry. When DD plays football, it’s 5% skill, 95% strength. I’m usually the guy running around like a headless chicken, and the guy loves to give the ball a nice sweet kick, and a guy who absolutely relishes physical challenges. Playing football in a really physical way gets that blood rushing through the veins real fast. Before any football game I play, I pick those strong people, and being a defender, I stick close to them, ready to give them a legal ‘shoulder push’, which somehow has NOTHING to do with the shoulder, EVER. Usually the sight of this raging bull running towards you at full speed sets people off and they get rid of the ball. Some people stay, and that sucks. I’ve had many incidents on the field. Momentum = Mass x Velocity. When this heavy kid runs at you with that speed, and you don’t move, it’s difficult for the kid to stop. I remember going to play with my cousin’s friends, [my cousin, by the way, has the similar intimidating physique like me, so we love scaring people together when we’re on one team], I was gutted seeing those people, all of whom were atleast 3 years elder to me. My first physical challenge, I crashed against one of the players, and made go down on all fours. My brother who was on my team started shouting “Dive!” but I knew that challenge was bang out of order. I couldn’t stop myself. A guy had the ball, and I wanted it.
That’s not the end of it, I’ve broken SO many things at home. I should’ve made a collection of the things I’ve broken. Vases, photo frames, glasses, and if you search my cupboard, you’ll find a carefully sellotaped laughing Buddha without an arm. Most of it was courtesy my football. This eventuates in excess anxiety. Now, when Mum asks me to open a bottle she can’t open, I start to fret. Those dirty tiny medicine bottles, I know if I excess to much pressure I’ll end up breaking it. The most annoying thing is using my pen drive. I cannot fix it into the port without at least 10 feeble attempts, followed by a frustrated push which fixes it in. Thus my strength, is another thing I deeply fear, though not HALF as much as my worst fear.
FEAR 3 : ACNOWLEDGING PEOPLE.
A usual day for DD contains waking up, getting ready, getting into the lift, saying “hari om”[I don’t know why, but I love saying it] to the liftman, walking out of the building after a brisk “ram ram” to the watchman, walking to school[unless the car is free], mouthing “hello’s” to all the people around me, including car-washers, dog-walkers, morning-walkers, drivers, other watchmen, other schoolmates, the guys from the jents parlour, Suresh the gift shop owner. Finally I reach school. Then DD’s routine is high five-ing all the guys, smiling at the girls, and saying the monotonous ‘good morning’ to the teachers. The break involves even more hello/high five/smile/nod-ing at the various people around, with the eyes spinning making sure no one misses the acknowledgement. Getting back home at 1:30 in the afternoon involves even more nodding-and-smiling, bye-see-you-tomorrow-ing to the mates, and waves to the acquaintances, and also a bit of Namaste-auntie-ing and Hello-uncle-ing, since I go past those women who go to their grocery shops etc, another batch of hari-om-ing and ram-ram-ing to the watchmen, who by the way, are the ones from the second shift. Going to play in the evening involves a LOT of hi-ing to my playmates, and also those invigorating HELLO!’s to the senior citizens sitting and chatting, none of whom I know personally. Taking my dog for a walk at night again involved “jevlat ka?[had your dinner?]”-ing at the watchman, and HATT!!-ing at the stray dogs.
See what I mean? It’s bloody vexatious, if that’s the word I want. Acknowledging people just impedes my normal way of existence. Very often, the only thing I desiderate during my public appearances is wearing a mask so that I don’t have to acknowledge all the people I meet. I was going to write ‘all the people I know’, but I refrained, because half of the people I acknowledge on the streets are perfect strangers, who I’ve pulled into my life by my smiles and other greetings. If DD meets any person’s eyes for more than one second, and the person doesn’t shift his glance elsewhere, something within DD forces him to display his 32, and cajoles DD into greeting the person on further meetings.
Thus, public appearances make me start fretting. This isn’t the only thing. Somehow I feel this guilt if I miss acknowledging one person. Have a look at me in the break, my eyes are constantly moving here and there, making sure I miss no smiles or nods or pats-on-the-backs, with the only assuagement coming from staring at my feet, ensuring that anyone who looks at me thinks I’m ‘unavailable for greetings’. If anyone acknowledges me with a smile or a wave, and I don’t reciprocate, it absolutely kills me. Thus, acknowledging people, my third fear, scares the crap out of me. This is my shortest post yet, but, as I say, what the heck.
Coming up, finally, my WORST fear.
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