I never had the intention to write this. Few experiences in life are ineffable. However, when I saw the BlogAdda.com contest, I thought lemme give it a try.
Long long ago, when the world wasn't flat and connected,I was a studious, bespectacled nerd with a little paunch, happily ensconced in the cocoon built by my orthodox, tamil-brahmin upbringing in a beautiful old town called Mylapore. Although few of these adjectives, my friends would argue, would still suit me, today, I feel happily bereaved of them. Back then, I always sat at the first bench and felt queasy about scoring any rank other than first. My studiousness had more to do with the milieu in which I grew up than any iota of my intellectual genes. My mother, being a brilliant mathematics teacher, was popular in town for her ability to create State Rank Holders in Mathematics every year.
She was featured in a local magazine, with a cherished photograph of hers where she sits in a dais proudly behind four state toppers. I grew up, looking a this photograph in awe as my pet inspiration, baptized by fire, to work extremely hard and top the state, to pay a royal, fitting tribute to my Super Mom. I felt it was my dharma to repay the karma of genes I was bestowed with. As you can see, my world was full of textbooks and I never bothered to look beyond, save a few indulgences in carnatic music and cricket. Incase you are wondering what is this beyond I am talking about: well, you know! I need not explain much. I studied in a boy's school. My lack of exposure in these beyond matters, and, my obsession to top in studies, made me less social to say the least. However, I never bothered, while my mind was transfixed religiously on recreating glory for my Super Mom. Whenever my friends in school bemoaned about the lack of opportunities to do things beyond, I laughed condescendingly at those lesser mortals, for having succumbed to the petty desires of life. Life was hunky dory until one day, I decided to take French Class. This class was special, as it got me acquainted with new species. They were like Unknown Living Objects. Although I had a sister at my home, It was so different outside. I had few opportunities to understand them. Most of those moments were spent with bewildered confusion. French Class brought in interesting tribe of these Unknown Living Objects. As you might have guessed by now, only one girl was in spotlight. She was the little Red-Riding-hood of my class who agreed to play Rapunzel, thanks to the divine providence which destined the class to be on Fridays, with her hair let down, graciously allowing jasmine flowers to steal the tantalizing scent of her hair. Of all the dresses I adored, including her school uniform, my favorite was a white salwar with flower prints scattered around. While her school uniform skirted my attention from the French books, her white salwar transported me from the classes to the world of fantasy where the prince(read as a bespectacled, studious nerd) bade her to let hair down to enter the tower of her heart.
As it happens in movies, divine providence gave me the golden opportunity to spend time of sweet nothingness with Rapunzel on a lazy Saturday afternoon. The French teacher had gone upstairs. It was raining outside. She was there all alone, doing some exercise with a sense of uneasiness. While any other with an average romantic quotient would have made the most of this situation, I walked near her, with feverish excitement, "Il pleut à merveille." , my latest french words lifted from Oxford dictionary. With a grumpy look that didnt suit her cherubic face, she grunted, "What......?" I smiled sheepishly, curiously expecting her to be bowled over with my french knowledge, "I said, its raining beautifully". "You could have said that in English!", came the blunt reply and she quickly lowered her head to get back to her writing exercise. Puzzled by her irked response, I sat as far as I could in the little room and took out my french book diligently to solve an exercise.
You see, love flows in ways, unknownst to mankind!. For a nerd, this was the equivalent of a shahrukh khan romantic antic or, if you let me to be little audacious, a heart warming, Hugh Grant mushy moment. I sincerely believed French to be the ultimate cupid to unite two hearts. While the sands of time changed this Nerd into a different being altogether, again, blame it on a girl( Interested to know how, check it out), this Little Red-Riding Hood lives in my distant Eden memories, beautiful as ever in fairy tales!