You know sometimes, you get into one of those moods to just get in gear and show off a lil bit? Pack yourself with that bit of oomph and blow the eyes of good, God-fearing people away into the mighty heavens? Or is it the bowels of hell? You know, let-me-stand-out-and-be-loud and conventions-be-damned and no-I-ain't-aping-the-west-this-is-my-style moods... Well anyway it shouldn't come as much of a surprise that I got into one of them.
Don't get me wrong, it wasn't anything all that scary or whatever.
No, I did NOT get a tongue stud or a navel ring And no, it's not even a tattoo on my knuckles.
It just happened to be a pair of low rise jeans.
Or is it jeans that I chose to wear just-a-weenie-bit lower?
Well what difference it makes, me thinks...
A lot, I discover.
It all started with me going to Tirupathi to write an exam. Why Tirupathi you ask? If you're from India, you would know that it is city which houses one of the most sacred of Hindu pilgrimages. Well then you should also know that it is the closest A.P. town from Kerala (Get a map you dimwit). Yes, you idiot, it was exam that could be given only in A.P. So the first thing I would notice (naturally) is the complete and I mean COMPLETE and ABSOLUTE lack of even a scrap of denim on a female body. In fact I didn't really see much of any female bodies around. So NATURALLY I jumped at this wonderful opportunity where me with my sad ensemble of cheap jeans, cheap top and fat ass would be ogled at.
And hence I made up eyes nice and sexy with lots a kohl, donned my top which showed a wee bit of my side and well, stepped into the highest pair of heels (not to forget, just a wee bit loose) I owned and belted my jeans that half an inch lower.
Oh if it weren't for that wee bit of loose shoes and that half an inch....
Flashing a 1000 watt smile, I drag my dad out for a walk around the city. As I sashayed away and shocked the poor citizens of that holy town, little was I to know that the city would avenge what constituted blasphemy on my part so soon. As darkness set down, my father and I decided to head back to the guest house. That's when I discovered one of them share autos. For the uninitiated this "share autos" in Tirupathi big 8-seater motor rickshaws which take you about for the most-outrageously cheap fares. Now from where I come from, these type of shared autos are non-existent. So in my childish delight, I convinced my dad to hire of of these things.
That's when I realized, to my utter horror that these autos were a good ten inches above the ground. No footboards. Yes I know arrgh!
I can see some of those dim minds coming up with a blank out there.
Rewind thy minds back to what you've just read. Think loose shoes and jeans belted lower.
Still didn't get it? Alright, I'll tell already.
I NICELY FELL FLAT ON MY FAT ASS.
You see, this is what happened. I naively lift my left leg up and place in on the floor of the auto. I proceed to put my not-exactly-inconsiderable amount of body weight on that poor thing. All at once, the shoe with too much space in it twists enough to make me an envy of any flexible acrobat and my jeans which limited my movement, all thanks to that half an inch, transferred torque through a simple but extremely powerful lever system all resulting in my previously-sashaying ass getting translocated to the dusty road. As though there weren't enough witnesses to my embarrassment, my vocal chords proceeded to emit a very loud and very unladylike bellow to jolt the attention of the entire city on me, who incidentally was still biting the dust and staring at the greasy undersides of the damn auto.
Oh how I wished that the Tirupathi God of the Hills would just grant me nirvana right then, convert me into a divine flash of light and thus end my earthly stay in a very cool way! But it seemed the God was against me too and even after five minutes, I still found my rear end firmly planted in the road. To add to my horror, I found that my legs were in mutiny and refused to lift me up. My poor confused dad and the equally puzzled auto driver lifted me up giving me dignity fit for a sack of potatoes and somehow I bunny hopped into the damn vehicle and bunny hopped back down at the guest house. My jeans had further gone down; reducing my stride length to roughly about five centimeters and my left shoe now had enough allowance for an elephantiasis-infected leg of a giant.
Somehow I waddled the bare-footed me back to the room and buried myself in the bed.
Lesson learned?
Never enter a share-auto in Tirupathi.
Don't get me wrong, it wasn't anything all that scary or whatever.
No, I did NOT get a tongue stud or a navel ring And no, it's not even a tattoo on my knuckles.
It just happened to be a pair of low rise jeans.
Or is it jeans that I chose to wear just-a-weenie-bit lower?
Well what difference it makes, me thinks...
A lot, I discover.
It all started with me going to Tirupathi to write an exam. Why Tirupathi you ask? If you're from India, you would know that it is city which houses one of the most sacred of Hindu pilgrimages. Well then you should also know that it is the closest A.P. town from Kerala (Get a map you dimwit). Yes, you idiot, it was exam that could be given only in A.P. So the first thing I would notice (naturally) is the complete and I mean COMPLETE and ABSOLUTE lack of even a scrap of denim on a female body. In fact I didn't really see much of any female bodies around. So NATURALLY I jumped at this wonderful opportunity where me with my sad ensemble of cheap jeans, cheap top and fat ass would be ogled at.
And hence I made up eyes nice and sexy with lots a kohl, donned my top which showed a wee bit of my side and well, stepped into the highest pair of heels (not to forget, just a wee bit loose) I owned and belted my jeans that half an inch lower.
Oh if it weren't for that wee bit of loose shoes and that half an inch....
Flashing a 1000 watt smile, I drag my dad out for a walk around the city. As I sashayed away and shocked the poor citizens of that holy town, little was I to know that the city would avenge what constituted blasphemy on my part so soon. As darkness set down, my father and I decided to head back to the guest house. That's when I discovered one of them share autos. For the uninitiated this "share autos" in Tirupathi big 8-seater motor rickshaws which take you about for the most-outrageously cheap fares. Now from where I come from, these type of shared autos are non-existent. So in my childish delight, I convinced my dad to hire of of these things.
That's when I realized, to my utter horror that these autos were a good ten inches above the ground. No footboards. Yes I know arrgh!
I can see some of those dim minds coming up with a blank out there.
Rewind thy minds back to what you've just read. Think loose shoes and jeans belted lower.
Still didn't get it? Alright, I'll tell already.
I NICELY FELL FLAT ON MY FAT ASS.
You see, this is what happened. I naively lift my left leg up and place in on the floor of the auto. I proceed to put my not-exactly-inconsiderable amount of body weight on that poor thing. All at once, the shoe with too much space in it twists enough to make me an envy of any flexible acrobat and my jeans which limited my movement, all thanks to that half an inch, transferred torque through a simple but extremely powerful lever system all resulting in my previously-sashaying ass getting translocated to the dusty road. As though there weren't enough witnesses to my embarrassment, my vocal chords proceeded to emit a very loud and very unladylike bellow to jolt the attention of the entire city on me, who incidentally was still biting the dust and staring at the greasy undersides of the damn auto.
Oh how I wished that the Tirupathi God of the Hills would just grant me nirvana right then, convert me into a divine flash of light and thus end my earthly stay in a very cool way! But it seemed the God was against me too and even after five minutes, I still found my rear end firmly planted in the road. To add to my horror, I found that my legs were in mutiny and refused to lift me up. My poor confused dad and the equally puzzled auto driver lifted me up giving me dignity fit for a sack of potatoes and somehow I bunny hopped into the damn vehicle and bunny hopped back down at the guest house. My jeans had further gone down; reducing my stride length to roughly about five centimeters and my left shoe now had enough allowance for an elephantiasis-infected leg of a giant.
Somehow I waddled the bare-footed me back to the room and buried myself in the bed.
Lesson learned?
Never enter a share-auto in Tirupathi.
1 comments:
ayyo..no comments for this post??i must have read it like around 2-3 times...really good:)
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