Sick

Being unwell away from home is strange. That is the essence of this article.

I injured myself in my second week at Orissa (yes, that place below West Bengal), and I felt like my world had crumbled into that piece of skin on my knee I had just lost to the railing of the parking lot.

See, I’ve had my fair share of injuries on my knee. The oldest one I remember is from HKG (it’s the same as UKG). My dad was walking me to our blue colour Passat after an intense day of classes where we had a spelling test, when I stumbled onto a gutter plate, creating a beautiful mess of red & purple. I remember wailing in the bathtub as my father cleansed the wound with Dettol (thank you, appa). It stung.

Dettol stings, friends.

Anyhoo, every time I recount an injury/bruise of consequence I have faced, I concurrently recall the fact that one of my parents has been around to ensure I didn’t make it worse (you know, by putting water on it, or falling again). Till I was aged about 13. Which makes me sound old. I’m really not. Meh. Cutting to the chase, even if I injured myself after that, I had to clean wounds & stuff on my own, but they were always there to check up on the wound and things.

The same goes for when I was unwell. My parents have spent countless hours nursing me back to my enthu cutlet self when I was ill. I distinctly remember a 5th Grade Math exam I gave when I had a fever. I fell asleep after finishing the paper (the rule was that we had to sit till the bell rung), but my mum took the day off from work to ensure I would be better before the next exam. That meant lots of soup and some Calpol. I don’t like soup or syrupy medicines (I approve of Maple Syrup/Hershey’s/Tabasco and Peri-Peri), so it was often that I had to be chased into putting these funny looking/awkward tasting liquids into my mouth.

The adults in my life always managed to ensure it happened though.

Good times.

When you’re unwell away from home is when you realize the worth of that tomato soup (that’s what they call it, apparently) and the time your parents/guardians took off to take care of you.

When you’re in a hostel, you realize it’s just you combating the illness. Even if it’s a small cold, it makes you feel horrible. Any illness is capable of reducing you to the size of a mite.

Until you have Wai-Wai.

Wai-Wai will help you conquer any illness.

That is the end of this blog post.

Wai-Wai

P.S., that was a joke. Supposed to be read as a substitute for Bye-Bye. Thought I should explain.

Curd Rice, out.

 

 

 

Let me know what you think!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s