The Idiot

I have always been a very remarkable person owing to my idiocy. I fumble when I shouldn't and appear smart when I should be acting like a fool. Knowing my behaviour well, my English teacher gifted me Dostoyevsky's 'The Idiot'. She had, in her beautiful handwriting, written 'To Anu Jose' above the book's title so that it read
'To Anu Jose The Idiot.' Seeing that a comma would not be out of place, I made suitable modifications so that it read 'To Anu Jose, The Idiot.' I have been an idiot ever since and slightly proud of it, too.

Knowingly or unknowingly, all through my life, I have been justifying the epithet that fate bestowed upon me. Today for instance:

Scene 1:
It was about 5:30 a.m. Anybody who knows me would know that I am a person who does not know what sunrise looks like. Anything before 7 looks midnight to me. So needless to say, I have, almost throughout my entire life, remained a staunch Sunday Christian, an ardent follower of the privatised religion and an owner of a heart with limitless sympathy for persons who couldn't enjoy the bliss of having a dream with the sun watching them from outside the window.

(My parents had, many a time, tried to find a cure for this peculiar malady of mine. Finally deciding that it was beyond their limits, they had given up.)

So where was I? Oh yes, in the bed, sleeping. Suddenly I thought I heard someone knocking at the door. Imagining that I was dreaming, I tried to ignore it. But the knock repeated itself, and I was forced to open the door. To my surprise, I found the Mother of the hostel, standing at my door, telling me, 'The Mass is at 5:45. ' She said something else too, but I could not concentrate on the rest as I was trying to imagine how it would be if I attend the mass at 5:45 in the MORNING! 'Unimaginable!', I said to myself, as I went back to sleep as soon as the Mother left the room. I mean, I can bear 6:30, but 5:45, according to me, amounts to human rights violation. Right to sleep is a more fundamental right for me than Right to Education or Right to Food.

The outcome of the episode was that the nuns in the hostel are now conspiring to reform me into a good Christian. Right now, the girl from the mess came to inform me that the Mass starts at 5:45 tomorrow too. I fear that my stay here is going to be a bit unpleasant for me from now on. :(

Scene 2:
After lunch, we were discussing about the political atmosphere in India, how hopeless the situation was, how the Constitution has become a joke, and so on. The nuns, in their orangish brown uniforms were walking past us as I was giving a talk on how politicians in Andhra were getting rid of EVMs by fielding more than 64 candidates in the constituencies where they wished to indulge in malpractices. (EVMs can be used for a max. 64 candidates. If the number is greater than 64, EC has to use paper ballot.) Then I had a vague idea that the nun standing in front of me looked 'kind of strange'. I was staring at the nun, trying to find out what was wrong. After a good five seconds, I realised that the nun had a long beard, a good moustache and something like a black kerchief tied to the head. I realised too, that the Mother was making gestures, asking me to greet the nun. Suddenly, realisation dawned: The nun was none else other than the Bishop of the Diocese and I had been staring at him in the most peculiar fashion for a whole and entire one minute! :(

When I was writing the GS paper of Mains, I was telling myself, 'Life can't get any worse than this!' But now, my life is telling me:

'Picture abhi baki hai mere yaar!' :(