En courage comes from encourage

At times, when I am more than bored, I skim through my posts from years back. As I see my own ramblings post after post, it was intriguing to understand what the trigger for all these posts was. I definitely didn’t had “Big Boss” Shakthi anywhere near me for sure. There goes my vow not to mention about that damn show in this space. It all boiled down to the very first appreciation I ever received.

As a follow up from the previous post, during school days, I was the elephant in the room, literally and figuratively, about whom no one spoke and spoke to as well and neither did i. It was a dull, excruciating, monotonous and ordeal for me, day in and day out. I was never active and never partook on any events. Whenever I was leaving from school I would see my classmates practicing for sloga competitions, oratorical, skits and dance and what not. I would simply walk away for I would never be invited for such things and I was way too timid and shy and would be terrified to even stand near such places. I could never recollect anyone appreciating me for anything for I actually did nothing remotely even different or interesting.

During my English class, for a lesson involving a bear and how the guy escaped fighting it, our English “miss” had asked us to label the story into chapters, with a chapter title for each of the sections we identify. The class topper, in his usual, Shakespearean Victorian English, came up with some fundoo headings which I couldn’t quite fathom then and even now as well. The story involved that of a guy fighting with the bear, which would tear away his scalp and he would somehow escape from it. I had written the titles as “Bear-dom” for those sections describing the habitat, “Bear hug” for the fight and “The bold and the bald” for the section where he escapes with his scalp cut open. My “bench mate” read it out aloud and everyone started laughing. The teacher appreciated him for the titles and of course I was glad that he didn’t mention my name that it was me who wrote them. My arteries were bursting at seam with sudden rush of blood and even Usain Bolt wouldn’t have clocked such a heart- beat post his sprints.

For something that wasn’t even credited to me, I was shaking with excitement, embarrassment and feeling happy at the same time. Somewhere down the line it clicked as a hobby and the biggest high I get out of blogging is the number of comments that I’ve treasured across all these years. Thanks for being so graceful and kind with your words. Really appreciate and cherish them J