Call Me Crazy

As a kid, I was quite a handful. Justifiably enough, I used to get a good thrashing,every other day.

Therefore, holding or keeping my back against the wall all the time had become my natural course of moving around or sitting, in the house. One can understand why. I'd rather face my merited medicine during dosage, than fall upon an abrupt ambush from behind. Funny thing: Years later, I felt flattered watching one Mr. John Rambo adopt the same technique as he went about his escapades, on the silver screen.

Now on occasions,this happened-
My parents,more often Dad,would call me close,for any random reason. Kid-Me was adorable you know. The inclination to shower some affection,twiddle with me,was enticing. So, taking someone to the threshold beyond which there remained no choice but to whack me, needed some doing. But of course, I would never fail to get you there. If you know me, you Can imagine.

I knew that it's just a matter of time till I'm beaten up,so I refused to go near. He would ask again,and knowing the obvious reason for my reluctance,he would promise not to hit me. I still wouldn't listen. However, when he would relentlessly insist that me being such a lovely child it'd be a shame if I didn't oblige to my parent's request, and make a sincere promise that he's definitely not gonna hit me this time,I would soften up; rather count on his assurance, and let my guard down.

(Image: Google)

Meanwhile, the warmth would ease me up, and before I knew it, I was back to being my natural, impish self. Within minutes, I would get the hardest & loudest,full-fledged swat, on my back. It hurt. Beyond measure. But even more because I'd known for certain this'll happen. I was the only one responsible for it, Every Freaking Time! That,apart from the physical pain,used to choke me up,real bad.
The entire thing was an unending cycle. Every time, I would swear never to step into that well-familiar puddle, yet eventually, I would end up slipping, and encounter the same. And so on.

(Image: Google)

I still remember,vividly, the time I had an epiphany about my parents,teachers - practically everyone who'd ever rebuked me for my alleged misdoings. "They are ordinary. That they fail to comprehend me, is not their fault. It's me who is just too good for their perception."

Cracks me up, when I'm reminded of it nowadays. But at the age of 10, I'd taken it pretty seriously. In fact, it was the very reason that I never felt as bad at similar incidents, from that moment onward.

Call me crazy.

P.S. - Some days, I would sit before the mirror and take a good,long look. And I used to think to myself, "Ohh god... How can anyone,ever, hit such a cute kid? Are they blind?".