My Experience: I was a leftist

This is the first story in this series.

It is based on how I felt about certain real life experience I have or anyone known to me faced mixed with raw emotions.

I was a leftist!!

Somebody once said, life is a jungle,,, for me its a slightly improvised version, life is a jungle full of awkwardness and a daily dose of pear pressures, as if two three veins popped inside my head,, I Know that didn't happen coz,,hey I'm still talking to you,, but it can happen real soon.

My name is Kiran,, my parents were so much progress that they couldn't get over the name, they thought of gender equality, that I will be given chance to choose my gender that I want in my life after I become a grown-up,,

Lol,,, that's what I said to my fellows, 

The truth is that I came to this college for the yearly quota of all the Kirans out there, haha!,,, just joking,that's how common my name is.

So for my parents, I was the one and only chirag,, or the warriors of my kandaan,,, the Kiran of their family.

I belong to the male federation of Kirans in the subcontinent of India.

There were other 2 Kirans - one male and a female at my batch,, and we were the rays of our college,,haaha!, at least I'm (only according to my opinion).

I was so special in every way. I was born with an extra finger over my left leg, best time according to jyothishis out there, strangly on the day of Halloween according to fellow humans at America,, But one thing was so strange to my family and jyothishis, strongly opposing to the norms of my family. I was a lefty (bus kahani khatam)

Those jyothishis did do some pujas owing money from my parents, but it didn't change. I used to hear my father saying to my mom that, see he is eating with wrong hand again, show him which is the rightiest hand, show!!,,, Every time again I messed up,,he used to say, beta this hand!!,, this is the hand used by prosperous people,, and I was like,!?!!

 I can't see any mark on them they both look alike to me one is mirror image of the other, and which you are showing in your hand is not the one which you are showing in my hand. These elders are insane, which I feel to use, they didn't like it and always someone kicked my ass.

Then it was my  6th birthday, it was a bright sunday, all my friends and family came, with lots of gifts and shagun, I bowed to the uncle who gave me 1 rupee note and said,aash kar!!. But the gift which really caught my eye is the one gifted by my cousin brother,,a big toy bus !!,, it was made of steel coated with green paint with all fine details of scoobydoo and friends 'happly ever after,,(i felt bad for scooby most of the time at my childhood but now I feel for shaggy more who was much depressed to his life and awkwardness so he was chasing food more than any relationship or case,,it kept him contempt from thinking what am I doing with my life,,,!!like me,,my resemblance to shaggy in both appearence and mentaly is so uncany, my friends used to call me shaggy).

 So I was so happy about the toy, I played with it all day and night, I drove it over handles of chairs, floor, bed, books, newspaper, every utensil in the kitchen, every curry that went to chacha ( thank God I was not caught by my mom, as I was driving on that road with big pits at the middle which I assumed with curry on the bowls) never settling, I drove my bus almost on everything that caught my eye, raveling the mystery in its every plight with my imagination.

The very next day,monday, was another day of sheer awkwardness and confusion at school about which hand I should use to hold my chalk and which to use for food, me gazing at my both hands sorrowfully as if I was a hostage and these two are the last chance to live or die infront of me, one among them is food suppliment to continue to live and another one is poison and you don't know which is what!??.

I thought to myself,, which I feel so,is not always the right,, I should choose the one which I don't feel of using,, hmm which I feel to raise,,hmm,,,,.

Then I closed my eyes,, I lifted a hand,, then I said to myself, the other hand I should raise,,yes!! I have found it,, I shouted to my teacher, this is it,,.

My teacher was a beautiful but proud woman, softly spoken but unshaken by her beliefs like my parents,, although she liked me,, my left-handedness didn't happen to please her,she constantly wanted to change it. I made the green nerve over her forehead bulge everytime she tried to do so.

This was not an exception,, she was like Kiran !,,,the other one beta,she kept her hand over her forehead, as if to calm that nerve.

I was as usual depressed by the laughter my fellows given me . 

Its very cool to be a lefty now,, but that time, when I was a child,, it was usually a taboo to be a lefty,, that you eat with your wrong hand,so my parents and KG teacher wished to change it. As their effort,, I am an acquired mixed handed person now,, not amphidextrous, but mixed handed. I write with right hand,,eat usually with right if I m not using a spoon, other all stuffs from buttering my toast to holding my scotch glass while saying cheers, buttening my shirt to pulling my zipper, litting a matchstick to playing throwing, catching etc with my left hand ( they couldn't train me much over those areas to use the rightiest hand), I was amphidextrous on typing and pulling the wax off from my ear and quite happy about it. But, I faced everything a lefty face in my lifetime from bad handwriting to ulta steps at a dance class to wrong sided scissors to opposing zipper at my pants,, nobody in my college knew that I am lefty before they saw me playing or eating with a spoon.

Soon after I reached home, I saw the demon as arrived my bua ka beta(aunt's son), Ajay who is Ajay(cannot be defeated) in all his pranks and equaly showing adorable pleading faces at my mom,somuch so that he took away many of gifts at my birthday last year .

He is so evil that he then paraded me, my own stuff damaged and thrashed by him last time I visited his home.

I soon remember my tressure is out there,, what if he sees it, what if he cries for it, what if my mother gave to him. I can't let that happen. I ran to my room.

I was a little disappointed by myself that I knew about the predator's arival before only, then why was I so stupid, his hands were all over my pokemon cards,, what the heck,, let him take it. I can collect it again,, but near to him lies my new found green tressure,the bus of my dreams. I dreamt of me being Fred and driving that bus with my girlfriend every time,, he can't have it, oohh God,!!!

I slightly leaned forward to move the bus away from him, his giggly notorious eyes caught me, I stood still.

woowoo!!!,see Karan bhayya, what a set of cards you have, it's so good,,!! I was smilling out of angush and was searching for my mom, as his behavior used to be very good infront of elders and victious infront me when alone.

He suddenly came to his known behavior,, he said, I want this,,,( me trying to send my bus below the bed) 'hmm see you can if love it somuch,,

(A sudden kick I gave to my bus backwards ), boom!! chikkkkk! boom!!

it was my bus coming fearlessly infront of him in style after hitting the corner leg of my bed because of my kick.

I was shattered, it's in front of him, what am I gona do,, hell be everywhere,,he would have killed my dream next time when I ll see him,,!!

No, I can't let this happen, we both as if on a baseball match suddenly fell over the floor for the precious bus from either side, pushing and pulling each other's hairs and hitting on each other.

The next moment what I could see is the lower metal base if my bus is slightly projected out, and the ceiling is punched from above, he then pulled with a single long breath that he landed over the large door with a harsh bang along with my bus in his hand.

A penetrating pain I felt over my hand,, hoo its red!its blood !! One of my hands thumbroot was bleeding as the metal base of the bus made a 1-inch long inscision like line yet deep wound over there.

I was crying with pain, bua and mom came over, bua dressed my wound and my mom was calming Ajay .

'Bua got angry and said,,ajuu(Ajay) you are not small now,,why were you taking your bhai's toys,,you have your own na,,next month you will also be 6 years,, just one month difference you guys are,,see how good is Kiran,last year howmany gifts he shared with you,, and u didn't gave anything to him,, this time why you where causing trouble to your brother,, say sorry and promise him to give the best toy you ll get for your birthday to him as you damaged his new bus.

He annoyingly got up and said sorry to me,, I felt good at that pain too for a moment.

But my wrathful revenge changed to deep sorrow when my mother said,,these kind of toys are so dangerous,, it ll not be given to anyone for playing,, how dare Viswambara(my cousin brother) gave these to little kids.

My pleading eyes, pleaded in front of her, she didn't say a word and she went with my now shabby precious bus.

I took leave from school for the next 2 days and after that, it was left for a week due to the festival.

The wound healed in a week, but the inner wound will not heal so fast.

That bus was my true friend, it never said no to anything,, I kept his company every time,, he was my true yaar, I was the Fred of his seat!!! Hmm,,,,,

I have spent whole holidays in the memory of my beloved bus, I carved his drawing over mud which was spoilled by my own tears.

Then reopening day arrived much faster than a metro train,, again same awkwardness and confusion I thought while getting ready for school, trying to comb my hair, miserably failed due to which side I should take partition and waiting for my mom. She made me my favorite rasagula so as to cheer me up, and gave a good bye kiss and lended me bye at the school bus. I reached school, all students were lazy due to holidays, my class was half-filled,, the teacher started writing on the blackboard.

Soon it was lunchtime,

she came to me and there was an astonishing lit at her face,, see bacha,,u have got a small scar over your hand, what happened,, I remember the whole inscident in a gulp, didn't say a word to her,, stairring at her as if seen a gost !!

'now you say which hand you got scar ??

I was thunderstruck,, which is this hand, she mouthed to me the righthand,, I was happy as hell, now I could say which is my right and left hand,, my true friend, my beloved bus has left a mark on me that solved a biggest problem of my life (at that age).

 I returned to home with the widest curve on my face,, and hugged my mom, she was lit by my face and gave me kisses.

That day I realized that its ok to be different, its ok to be awkward, its ok to be plunged in by your elders as some of their beliefs are wrong but they are wise and will change over time, it may give you a hard time, universe will find you a way to get above it.

It was surely cruel for them to treat me like that at my childhood, correcting me every time when I used the wrong hand according to them, even though there was no difference in each one of my hands both were mine but in the process, I trained my brain to use both sides of my brain uniquely,, and universe or God helped me by the little scar it gave me, I clung on to the struggle, and trust me the struggle was real,,,,,,,,