MY MOST EMBARASSING MOMENT

You ever had a moment when you wished the ground beneath your feet should just split open and swallow you whole and people shouldn’t even realise you have ceased to exist? Or that you could just flick your fingers and go 'POOF!' and land up in the safety and confinement of your home, where you could dance naked and not be seen for all you cared?

Sounds familiar? I bet it does...

I used to always get stuck on the 'Most embarrassing moment' blank while filling up slambooks for friends back in school... I started with my name, filled in my phone number, my address, my most memorable moment, and then I’d come upon 'Most embarrassing moment;' I’d pause, scratch my head, and then jump to the next blank... I'd continue and fill the entire slambook, and would again come back to the 'Most embarrassing moment'... I'd scratch my brain a little more, and would eventually end up returning the slambook, the blank still blank. But if i had to fill one now, I’d have loads to write about... Loads... And it wouldn’t be my 'Most embarrassing moment' but my 'Extremely mortifying and 'go-beet-root-red-in-cheeks' moment'...

One fine Monday morning (although how can a Monday morning be fine, that too after a rather long and tiring Sunday is beyond me) I was getting ready for college. I had just come out of the bath and was still in my bathrobe. Water was dripping from my hair. I was already running itsy-bitsy late for college… but I was too lazed to get ready. The first lecture was ‘English’ anyway, so didn’t matter if I went a little late. So there I was, hanging out in my room, going through the pile of much used and dog-eared books___ novels, reference books, text books, magazines___ while Nick, Howie, AJ and Brian all tried to convince me I was ‘One In A Million’. I swayed left-right-front-back as the song went on; its rhythm and melody like the boys had had just an extra shot of Tequila. Mom suddenly barged into my room and shrieked.

‘What do you think you are doing?’ she said. I froze. Holding my position, I turned to look at Mom, facing the mirror of my dressing table simultaneously. I took a look at my reflection in the mirror and burst out laughing.

‘God! Whats wrong with you? You are acting like you’re having a hang over!’

‘Maybe I am!’ I squealed; Mom looked daggers at me.

‘Chill Mom! I’m ok!’ I said, and swirled around. Needless to say, I lost my balance and fell on the bed. That sent me into more fits of laughter and Mom into those of anger.

‘God! Honestly, what have I been rearing the past nineteen years?’ Mom said.

‘Ok, what is it now? What did you come in to talk about?’

‘Nothing, what are you doing in the evening?’

‘Nothing. Why?’

‘Can you come with me? Got some work, could use some help.’

‘Sure.’

Happy that I had agreed so quickly, and without giving me a chance to change my decision or rethink, Mom danced out of my room and I went back swaying around my room. Somehow I was on a high that day. You know, it happens… sometimes you are inexplicably happy, for no reason. They say it is because of your karma… some of your past deeds, maybe of a past life, have been rewarded, and that is what makes you happy… But let’s not get into that… Bottom line is; I was on a high. It seemed like nothing could mar my mirth. But no! I have now learnt my lesson well; eight out of ten times when you get such a feeling, be sure something is going to happen. In fact, I should have picked up the signs when Mom marched right back into my room.

‘Now what?’ I asked.

‘What are you wearing today?’ Mom asked.

‘Oh no… not again!’

‘Mi tula jauch denar nahiye aaj (I am not going to let you go today) unless you wear your salwar-kameez.’

Ok, I’d like to add a few things here. I am not the types who hate wearing anything that speaks of my ethnicity and shows in a way that I am Indian. I like wearing salwar-kameezes… love it in fact. But what Mom doesn’t seem to get is I have my ‘days’ or my phases… There are days when I wear only salwar-kameezes one after the other. And then there are days when I just don’t feel like it, and I stick to my jeans and t-shirts. And although mom doesn’t mind the former, she hates the later.

‘But Mom___’

‘Te kay pujayala ghetlet ka?’ (Have we bought all those dresses to worship them?)

‘Nahi, pan___’ (No, but___)

‘No if, no but,’ mom said, reaching out for my cupboard door. She opened it and pulled one of my salwar-kameezes out. ‘You wear this and come out in the next fifteen minutes, ok?’

‘Yeah.’

Mom went out of the room, and I threw a pillow at the door. I heard Mom laugh. ‘Mend me, bend me, but you cant break me!’ she called out.

‘YEAH RIGHT! WHATEVER!’ I shouted back, nonetheless smiling to myself.

Note: if you are my friend, remember one thing. Never; NEVER EVER make me do something I don’t want to. Consequences can be disastrous.

As instructed, I came out of my room, twenty minutes later, clad in a white Lucknowi salwar-kameez, with long ear-rings, and with a Shabnam on my shoulder.

‘I’m leaving!’ I called out, and Mom came rushing out of the kitchen.

‘There you are! How pretty you look!’ Mom said. ‘Bye!’

‘Thanks… bye!’ I replied and stepped out of the house.

We had three out of five of our lectures off that day. And on top of that I had planned to bunk my last two lectures anyway, as I wanted to go for a movie, which meant I was not going to attend a single lecture that day. I spent most of that day hanging out in the parking and the canteen of our college with classmates, seniors and of course, my new world friends. Soon it was quarter-to-two; time for me to go. I said bye and took leave. The show was at two-thirty. Half-way to the parking, I thought I should probably just wash my face and go… I had been in college the entire day anyway, and had been sitting in the parking lot since the minute I came. So I made my way to the Ladies Room. And the minute I set my foot inside the room, I shrieked.

I looked down at the floor… it was all wet. Completely wet. There was water everywhere and no one was in sight.

Now I am someone who can’t stand it when people leave taps running, or unnecessarily waste water in any way, so obviously I was furious. I walked to where the washrooms were and saw that one of the taps in the basin was running… Someone had turned it on all the way and probably left it on even after the water ran out; so that now that the water-tank was full, the water was running at full speed.

‘Shish!’ I exclaimed, as I hurried to the basin, trying to hold my salwar up so that it wouldn’t get wet, and trying to balance the dupatta and the Shabnam on my shoulders and myself on my heels. I quickly reached the basin and began turning the faucet off.

Soon I realised it wasn’t turning off.

I looked at the tap like it had been jinxed. I adjusted my dupatta and Shabnam and stood a little more firmly, now facing the basin, and tried to turn the tap ff with both my hands. But it just kept going round and round and round. And then at one point, it just snapped.

‘Ooo! Shit!’ I exclaimed and sprang away from the tap, dropping my Shabnam to the floor in the process, spraining my leg, and hitting the wall behind me.

I blinked rapidly and tried to regain my equilibrium. Slowly, I moved one hand, then the other, and then my legs. I looked around. My books were lying in a puddle of water… or more precisely in three inch deep water; and so was my Shabnam. My dupatta was floating away to one corner of the room; and when I finally got to look in the mirror… I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.

For a few moments, I just froze. I kept looking at my books, my dupatta and my reflection in the mirror again and again. Somewhere in between I figured that my phone was in my bag too. I lifted my bag off the floor, and water poured out of it. I put my hand inside and took my cell out; and for the first time, I thanked Mom inwardly for forcing her things upon me. Just the previous day she had bought me this plastic cover for my cell, and so my cell was at that moment absolutely dry and safe. I took it out and dialed mom’s number, thinking i'd ask her to bring me a change of clothes.

Have you noticed that often when one thing goofs up… it doesn’t stop there; it goes on in a series and stops only when sufficient damage has been done to leave you feeling utterly embarrassed and miserable.

So what was the next thing that had gone wrong in my series?

Mom was not answering.

Then one after the other I tried calling Dad, my brother, my neighbour and my aunt. And with every phone call, I was almost expecting the next person to not be home/be available too… and that left me with just one option. And if you are not a really really dumb person, you must have figured it out too.

To drive back home.

On my own.

In a white Lucknowi salwar-kameez that was no longer white.

I cursed my luck several times and finally dared to step out of the Ladies room. I looked around and noticed that there was nobody in sight. I quickly got out and ran on my toes towards that parking. Luckily (ironic I should use that word under these circumstances, right?) there was nobody there either. I quickly sat on my bike and drove out of college.





That day I came home at an amazing 80km/hr; and again ‘luckily’, I didn’t get one red-signal. I didn’t get stuck in one traffic-jam, which had now almost become mandatory for every time that I drove to or from college. I drove so fast, that my dress and me were half-dry by the time I reached my house. I rushed into the bathroom and stripped the dress of… it was a sorry state. I put it in a bucket of clean water and let it soak till I took a quick shower.

Mom burst out laughing when I narrated the whole thing to her in the evening after everyone got back home.

‘You are laughing! Damn! It all happened because of you!’

‘Me?’ mom said through her fits of laughter. ‘Why me?’

‘If you wouldn’t have forced me to wear the salwar-kameez, none of this would have happened!’ I said, and Mom-Dad-Bro all broke out into more and more peels of laughter.

‘And your cells!’ I said, addressing all of them; ‘go dump them into the sewer! God! I got so fed up of listening to the same line over and over again. “The customer you are trying to reach has moved out of coverage area”. What the hell!’

By now we all had tears in our eyes… theirs out of laughing, mine rooted in fury and anger. I picked up my Mango-milkshake glass and stomped off into my room… I shut the door and could still hear the laughing and my brother mimicking me now… God! I so hated it when he did that. I grabbed the remote control lying on my bed and turned the music-system on, and of all the cassettes that could have been in it, Aqua shouted out to me;

‘FREAKY-FRIDAY! THINGS AIN’T GOING MY WAY!’

And finally, for the first time in that day, after so much of fretting and tantrum-throwing… I laughed my arse off at the bloody timing! Or should I say ‘luck’ again???