CONTROL.......

I was 9 years old; old enough to have a crush on a girl, wise enough to not take it to the next level and stupid enough to play cricket with her later. That was when there was a devil in the form of a girl who used to sit beside me in my school van. Name will not be revealed citing my security concerns. Diving straight into the point, I ended up bashing her on the face, when something like a ketchup made its way out from her mouth. The incidents that followed, well, let’s say, ended up in something like lemon juice pouring outta my eyes. After all this drama, my mother, poor helpless lady, gave my ears some advice- “CONTROL your anger son. CONTROL.”

I was 15 years old; old enough to lie, wise enough to add wings to the lie and stupid enough to let them fly into wrong ears. That was when my mom thought I was in tuitions while my tuition teacher thought I was fighting an incurable disease. Fact remains that I was in a Cyber Café chatting with a Pakistani chick. Dad’s bike; I had it; dad wanted it; Kahani khatam. My tuition teacher gave him the sweet news that I hadn’t come to tuitions that day. My mom, on the other hand, was preparing herself for the war. All this while I was exchanging stupid smileys with the Paki chick. Then I went home and that marked the end of World Peace. Again, after all this drama, my mom said to me with hopeless hope- “Be in CONTROL son. Know your priorities. CONTROL.”

I was 20 years old; old enough to ride a bike, wise enough to keep a Driver’s license, stupid enough to prove that I don’t deserve one. That was when I found road dividers and footpaths to be ‘Divine’. I would frequently take blessings from them. Traffic Police, on the other hand, kept on pestering me for pocket money. It was once when my aunt asked me to take her to the temple, and I almost took her to God. But anyway it was all going okay, until one day I managed to do the impossible. I whacked a traffic police down and then went on to have a great fall taking blessings from the footpath. Supporting actors like dad and mom had to enter the drama and finally it cooled down. My mom took me to the side that day and said- “CONTROL son. CONTROL your speed.”

Now I’m 23; old enough for everything, wise enough for everything and stupid enough for everything. Until a couple of years back, the word CONTROL had become my mom’s anthem for me. Today I’m writing this here because, it had been two long years since she’d last reminded me to control myself. Last week, she was left with no other option. I mean, it was a nature’s call, an SOS call (read loose motions) that too. I’m sorry.