It was a weekend, sometime in the fourth semester of my post-graduation. The day was the usual archetypal scorching, humid and lethargic summer afternoon in Coimbatore. There was nothing much for me and the rest of the gang to do, other than sleep, sleep and sleep. After all, academics were always boring, and all the girls from the hostel had gone home for a short retreat, so there were no distractions. We all would have gone home, except for the session of inebriantism that had happened last night. As usual, the hangover had made us tired enough not to move a limb next morning.
What best to do in such a situation? Try to pick a bakra in the group and persecute him to hell. What more can you expect from ten atrociously sadistic individuals who try to pick up on each other when there’s no better time pass?
The process of choosing the prey is quite straightforward and effortless. In course of general conversation, somebody blunders something, and then it’s picked on from there and the process of plaisir et d’abus taken to its logical conclusion.
Unfortunately, I was the victim for the day. It was by happenstance that I chanced to discuss one of the most striking features of a chap – which I had and most of the others could only dream about – the chest hair. And as usual, the boasting started – like how I have it, you don’t have it, how it attracts angels like the axe effect et al. It was not long after that, I found all nine of them ambush me.
“Innu ivante ahangaaram theerkanam (let us finish off his arrogance today)” – was the rallying call I heard.
I was helpless. Before I could make out what had hit me, I found my hands and legs tightly bound by them. I was still not sure what they all were up to, even they were not sure too – thinking hard how to shut me up.
Its crazy how people come up with fanatical ideas all of a sudden, you can just guess how nine shrewd brains will work. They found the perfect madcap scheme to put me out of focus.
From my position of imprisonment, I could see the shaving blade making its way across to me.
“Ah… I thought these guys were going to shave my chest hair off… not a bad idea at all… can get a free shave… after all, six packs looks better on clean chests…” was the thought process going on.
I smiled inside, but did not show it on my face, which wore a fretful look.
They were just about to start off their work, when suddenly one of them gave another crazy input to the already weird idea – to create an art work with the alphabet “V” on my back.
(Most of you would know why these guys just planned “V” on me. For the others who are ignorant, refer one of my previous posts here for the clue)
There was nothing much I could do, except wait for them to finish their modern art on my back side. Just think how a neatly shaved out “V” would look on a hairy black back.
All said and done, there was much at stake for me that was lost here. As the vacation moved on, I went home off for the rest of the week. There were quite a few things that I could not do…. like walk shirtless at home, go to the temple as I would have to take my shirt off then, take off for a swim, or do anything else that would let people see the neatly done “V” on my back.
It took almost a month for the curls to fall back in place, till then it was edgy, tense days. Once all was back to normal, I was back to audacity again on the same theme, as usual.
Yes, arrogance… was back in the character, that was missing for a month.