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13 January, 2008

I am a ten year old boy. No, man in spirit. I have to get up at 5 in the morning to deliver newspapers. I hate getting up that early. I wish I could turn off my alarm. (Laughs...) By alarm ofcourse I mean if I could set the sun to rise later. My body aches. My head especially. It spins sometimes. I think it is because of the weight of the newspapers I carry. Oh by the way, as you all might have figured out, I am the paper boy for this locality. By morning only. At 8, I report to Fix it Garage. I am the junior assistant mechanic in charge of taking care of the needs of our expert mechanics. I get to meet very gorgeous cars and their not so generous owners. I assumed that they would be nice people considering they have all the money to get whatever they want. Maybe they are upset about their expensive car. Could be. Least of my problems I say, this is why I don't want millions. I pray that my each meal is served and that I get to eat them in peace. That seems more a spiritual problem than the sparkplug of a car! Oh did I forget to tell you my age? I am ten. Do I look like one? I think I can pass off as a teenager, a grown-up maybe? (Smiles...)

I am 45 years old. I am a 45 year old mathematics teacher. Aaaah! I knew you would roll your eyes when I say the word mathematics. No, tell me, really. What is it that makes everyone squirm when you have to attend a math class, a math test, or talking to a math teacher. I am getting upset for nothing here right? I teach to an empty class and when the test paper comes I curse the empty heads. Then there are these saving graces in every class who understand the basics of mathematics. The Front-benchers. Don't judge me. You dont own the patent, the right to label them. I will exercise mine as well. So these jumping jacks sitting in the first bench, though they bring utmost joy to me with their split second answers, get on my nerves as they in the end are the ones who undermine my intelligence and command over the subject. The back-benchers, though hate me, never cease to get amazed at the speed and flair I solve any given problem. Simple application of logic I would say and they roll their eyes. I see fear more than a negative attitude. I get my revenge.. Maths: Boo!!! (Laughs, giggles leading to snorts...)

I am a 38 year old, career-woman and a home-maker. Yes, we do exist and merge both worlds with ease and panache. I am an interior designer, I always loved the arts. It gave me my freedom. And as a single mom, I am quite happy about how my kid has turned out. He is a great guy who has learnt to love and respect women. I give a pat on my back whenever his 'girlfriends' praise me for the brilliant son I have given to the society. (Smiles) Between blushing and over-powering sense of pride, I mumble a thank you to the girl and walk away. I am popular in my fraternity, highly recognised and a successful mother and thats who I am. Although it does get a little tiring when I am all that and not myself. I have carved a status for me which I cannot erase. I am all that. But I am also much more. My art has cornered me. Maybe I should start writing poetry. (Laughs quietly...)

I am 22 years old. I am the author of many lives, many emotions. They belong to me. But they once belonged to another. Maybe myself sometimes. Once they are out, they are... not mine anymore. Sometimes I write so that they stop belonging to me. Ever wondered why Arthur Miller couldn't sustain his affari with Marilyn Monroe, THE MOST SEXIEXT HEARTTHROB? Because for authors its not a woman's curves that are tintilating it is the flow of word play is stimulation. Ha! Word play, word play. It excites me so much!!! (Shudders and Laughs...)Are you asking me whether I am alone? Good question but let me know, do you think I am alone? (Smiles and winks naughtily...)

...I think I will remove my shoes now. Their shoes also. Bare feet are a blessing I tell you...

8 Scribbles:

Me Thinks.. said...

When you told me you blogged, I was gonna blog myself..Now I dont think I should!

Every character is so independent yet, not really...Its how all of us are..atleast thats how I am..I loved the Arthur Miller bit!

The idea and the presentation..brilliant stuff..

pricky said...

You know what when you have new reeboks on your feet then bare feet arent such blessing the shoes are... ;-)

Arthur miller couldnt continue with the affair cause she found another non intellect.. she was moving from all genres of men, you see... ;-) The sketches are nice so da dee dum, madam TSU

ujju said...

The part I love in this post is the last lines. Bare feet- thts what writers are areent they? We try to walk in other people's shoes, take their stories...

Prude said...

Ujju stole my lines...

And you fit in every shoe most beautifully :)

sravan said...

i actually thot u gona connect al these characters in the end :)

crumbs said...

bare feet really ARE a blessing. But the point is, we're ALWAYS bruising them. Sigh.

Brilliant piece of writing, by the way.

Tsu said...

@MT: Thanks for the compliment. We end up writing posts together .. :)
@Pricky: if authors can walk in other ppl's shoes .. sometimes we couldnt understand our own shoes!
@Ujju: Real life.. should have seen the paper boy.. I could cry
@Prude: Thanks again.. but I think the kid's shoes wont fit me :)
@Srava: did i? :-)
@crumbs: hurts like hell.. two people going thru the same thing! sheesh.. life sucks

Lakshman said...

:)

Raise your Shoulders and Fall back on your Knees, Piss through a Dime For the Whole World Sees