The death of innocence

I once left a book in the toilet. It was a joke book for kids. Never been ok since.

I once cut off my left eyebrow (by mistake) with a pair of scissors. This was the same day i snipped a certain article of clothing with the same pair of scissors. Looking back I recall I was fascinated by the sound of fabric and hair being cut. The experience was almost synesthetic. Mind you, I got the living daylights walloped out of me for denying I did it. This may be the main reason for my lack of addictions in life.

On one of my many ground scavenging expeditions undertaken on weekly holidays in shorts and a sleeveless undershirt at the tender age of 7, I found an unlit cracker on the outskirts of our building premises at the end of Diwali. The discovery of this incendiary gold actually gave me wood. I couldn't do anything about my tumescence though. It just felt good when i bashed it down so I could walk properly. Fuck off, I didn't know what the hell sexual arousal was at that age, did you? Moving the hell on, I realized that this cracker had to be lit and fast. I was losing wood. In true haraami fashion, within 2 days I managed to procure a box of matches for the simple sum of 10 paise. This is back in 1987. Back then you could buy a car for Rs. 10,000, the banks had interest rates of 19% on fixed deposits, and women could buy DDT and arsenic at the local grocer to poison their mice and men. Today a box of matches costs 10 times as much. So, matches in hand, I proceeded to a spot in the compound wall that had a tiny hole in it and placed my (yes it was mine now) cracker in it with the fuse sticking out. In case you're wondering where I kept the cracker for 2 days, I hid it in my baba ghanoush. not. I hid it in my pencil box. It was really windy that day, so the matches kept going out before i could get the fuse lit. So I did the logical thing of covering the flame with my tiny 7 year old hands. The next thing i knew BOOM the bastard had exploded right in my face. This was a complete anticlimax and I realized the fuck-up happened because of the short fuse not giving my young, unaccustomed mind sufficient time to back away from the impending explosion. I recall going slightly blind, deaf and not being able to breathe correctly. This means I didn't know if I had to inhale or exhale because I couldn't remember if I had just inhaled or exhaled. This, I later found out, is called sonic shock wave disorientation. Happens to soldiers on the battle field. It's caused by subsonic shock waves. However as this was a single pulse shock wave, I quickly recovered and got my breathing back. Next came my vision and finally the hearing. I picked myself up and realized I could smell the phosphorous on my clothes. I didn't really give a fuck, having just been battle-scarred. I tottered back to the play area of the compound and continued playing football with my brothers. No one ever knew. Till now. F.

When we were 8, 9 and 11, me and my brothers got a whole bunch of G.I. Joe toys. I wasn't really into the action figure thing or the trains thing. I was always about the chemistry set and the electric set and the ripping apart the guts of toys to see what the hell made them work. I wasn't able to take the GI Joes apart cuz they had strong rivets holding them together. I never got the chemistry set, but that never stopped me. I mixed all kinds of shit together: after-shave and bleach, vinegar and baking soda, toothpaste and nutmeg. Nothing worked. My action figure was Scrap Iron. He was on Cobra team, but he looked so damn cool that we put him on the GI Joe team. At least I did. Go to hell. That Baroness though, she always had me bashing the little guy. Take that to mean whatever you want.

It's getting late and i'm gonna wrap this one up here. The last thing I did before turning 8, that was utterly bastardly delicious, was this one time my dad (rest his soul) had taken us all to Delhi while he was covering the 1988 Asian games (my dad was a journalist). Delhi was particularly dry and de-hydrating that year. This one day I had worn a piece-of-shit (that was the brand on the label) pair of jeans and a blue and red striped t-shirt with Converse-style sneakers. I fell asleep in our hotel room after drinking 3 bottles of 7-Up. When i woke up, believe it or not, there was a giant, monster of an eagle at the window. I bet he had a donkey dick cuz he looked at me hungrily. The entire room was asleep, it must have been 4:30 pm. I wanted to cry cuz I knew in my heart that I was a pussy. I hadn't a hobbit-shit's chance of fighting that bastard. Now here's the complicated part: My MOM was asleep too. I was more afraid of disturbing her sleep and facing her demonic wrath than I was of fighting off this 3 foot (at the shoulder) bird of prey. Well, as I was fucked either way I decided to fight the bird. Mind you all this decision making happened within the span of about 10 seconds after seeing the bird. When he (it may have been a girl eagle, but i doubt that cuz it had a donkey dick) looked away i picked up a 7-Up bottle and flung it at the window. Today, if I had my way, there would be a picture of that eagle in every dictionary right next to the word KA-BLAM, cuz that's what happened. He wasn't expecting that shit. Who's preying on who now mofo? I couldn't believe my luck. Mother stirred only slightly. I felt like some kind of demi-god and so I decided to celebrate with a glass of cold water cuz it was so hot. Reaching cockily for the cold water thermos I accidentally knocked down an empty bottle of 7-Up which didn't shatter. However its glassy timbre did wake up mother who proceeded to take the shape of an Asura, her waking form. I got away with a glare and a whispered spell that she chanted in the direction of my heart. I didn't die, but my demi-god powers went away. No one ever found out how I saved their lives that day from a ruddy eagle. They wouldn't have believed me any way. Thinking back in it I feel like Rambo. Colonel, they drew first blood. not. But that rapist eagle would have. Nighty night, keep your bunghole tight.