I have always been a popular figure in school since my kindergarten days. The kindergarten fame might have partly been due to my excellence as a student and mostly because of my deep disliking for the delicately nurtured specimen. You see, delicately nurtured were the darlings of all our teachers and when they were stirred to the slightest level, that’s it. I vividly remember the day when my parents were summoned in my school only because I pulled off a hair clip from a curious girl. I didn’t have the slightest clue hers was a steel clip and it would cause a scar when pulled with a boyish vigour.
On another occasion we were just playing something similar to baseball in our break time when this bitter-faced class topper came in and stood right in front of me. I with an enthusiasm to score a home run hit her clean on her cheek, accidentally of course. She stayed perpendicular, nothing happened to her at all apart from two lost teeth. If that were a boy all would have been fine. He would have vented, ‘O! What did you do that for?’ We would have clicked our tongues or said ‘Tchah!’ or words to that effect. Then we would allow him to hold the bat and give him a couple of easy balls to hit to cheer him up a bit. But she being a girl sobbed uncontrollably for almost fifteen minutes and told with the remaining teeth every single peer that she was intentionally hurt. Our principal instead of telling her not to be daft and encouraging me to try and be a champion of home runs told us that I was a public menace.
There was a cherished pal of mine who was locked up in a room till his parents came to rescue for just using cheerful names for calling teachers. One of our lady teachers was really angry being called a monkey. That seemed to be a fair name to me really.
This list goes on and on. We were told that the operator ‘x’ denotes product. Our English teacher was totally ignorant of this rule. When I submitted my poetry assignment in which a poem had to be written thrice I just wrote it once, put a parenthesis around it and wrote X3 and amazingly the rest of the class didn’t have the intelligence to do it. Instead of being applauded by all I was told to parade around the school building with my pal who endorsed my thinking.
The battle against the tender gander got more and more intense because I was always ranked second in class next to a girl with demonic attributes. She had thrown weapons of geometry class at me many a times. But it was considered defensive. But when I smeared her shirt with a lovely shade of blue it was not shirt-designing.
As I grew up to grade-5 the two of us were crowned bad boys of our school. At the same time with our consistent performance in academics we also gained a certain amount of charm. All the lady teachers finally got into them that we would pass out that year and they would miss us for the rest of their lives. Our head-mistress decided to give me a final farewell. She thought so. I was requested to dance in our graduation party with girls of sorts. I guess they were thirteen in number surmounting me. After that though I waved good bye to all those dumb chums and and that was about the last time I was surrounded by a gaggle of adored objects