Fizz

While in school we had four houses -- red, blue, green and yellow. Each house had to stay back after school per week for class cleaning which would include sweeping, re-arranging desks general dusting and the grand task of cleaning the blackboard and keeping it ready for the next morning with the date and a moral/phrase written on it. I was, for some privilege, assigned with the last one six days a week, something really royal you would say -- chitchat with the house girls as they cleaned the classroom and finally get on to do the thing I liked most, scribbling on the blackboard. On one such day as I ran out of phrases and went out for 'collection of material' (to gossip with a group of juniors), I came back with the phrase "anger is one letter short of danger". For the whole of next day, each alphabet of my own handwriting somehow radiated through the air and reached my head. Made so much sense, that phrase.

I am angry today. Very, very angry. From quarter to four. Just as the time ticks closing in upon that moment when you are about to touchdown on the best moment of the day -- 'going back home' -- you are called upon and thrust with a responsibility of improbable proportions. Horrendous. I am so angry that I am silent. And all through the goddamned evening my head has been an explosion of expletives which I am unable to express. I am more or less in control of the situation, I always am good with handling responsibilities, but I cannot rationalize the need to cosmetize a simple occasion. Pointless pressure trickling through the institution, which is why not even one individual looks happy.

So much incidental anger is really bad. I am so full of it that I haven't been able to quite enjoy the evening, or appreciate the rest of the things happening around me. It is dangerous. So, I thought let me once channelize it out, and I wrote. I am already feeling lighter. I love that scene in Jab We Met where Kareena instigates Shahid to tear off his ex's photograph and later, he, in a similar manner makes her blurt out invectives towards the man who betrayed her.

But dear readers, anger is a bad thing, really. It is contagious and doesn't do any good. Next time you are angry remember this post and my sad face and gradual turn of events and the brilliant smile that they eclipse and, do not be angry. Text me, dump it on me, take it out on me. I will listen and let you be. Then you can return to your business calmly. I will too, now.