There are times when I absolutely forget myself and become a good person.
I feel very kindly towards pregnant women. My PMS and the actual cycle through all my years of existence has led me to understand that pregnancy which is the ultimate PMS, has got to be respected.
Pregnant women have strange desires and weird moods. A cousin had to see the Krishna Raja Sagar Dam before she gave birth to my niece. And throughout the drive to the dam, she was unbelievably quiet. Didn’t even act bitchy and make nasty cracks as is her wont. So being preggo actually made her nice.
A classmate from college is due to have a baby. And so in all the goodness of my heart, I stupidly asked her to let me know if she wants help of any sort on Facebook to which another classmate comments – why don’t you be her midwife? (This is supposed to be LOL funny, I guess) And then preggo classmate says, ‘Yes, why don’t you? My husband will faint with all the screaming and cursing.’ (Now this, is supposed to be ROTFLMAO funny.)
And amidst such graceful ladies with this wonderful sense of humour, I could hear this voice in my head going on about the road to hell…
Grace. I love how graceful my post-graduate classmates have always been – the twats.
After a brilliant reading of The Wasteland by one of the better lecturers we were lucky to have, while some of us sat spellbound, in tears, moved beyond speech – a voice piped in horror: “Are we to learn this for the exam?” No matter how brilliant the text or the teaching, my classmates’ preoccupation – do we already have notes for this? Is there a guide?
Grammar & phonetics were classes I loved to miss. Seeing my favourite papers massacred by a teacher who taught through her notes and couldn’t say it right always ruined it for me. And having the teacher proclaim (and thrice), ‘Grammar is boring, but girls you have to study this for marks’, had me swear that I wouldn’t attend her classes.
And then this classmate who found me on a social networking site says, “Remember me? I sat bored through Maya Ma’am’s classes while you perfected the art of absenteeism.”
Ummm, hello again, loser.
Saving grace of these life experiences is that I realise anew how being good is so overrated. And I hear myself saying again in perfectly Brit tones – Piss off.