Hey People, this isn't exactly a story but an expression of affection! read through and Comment!
For those slightly miffed Bete Noire = a person one particularly fears.
@rosesarefoever- for every time that i complined to you endlessly!
Perhaps it was the sudden sweltering heat that Darling Mumbai had impinged on its dwellers; or maybe it was completely attributed to Dear Venerable Ceiling-fan – who had decided to drive to insanity the inmates of class Twelve A with his incessant monotonous drone – or maybe it was the plump ring-chocked paw being waggled in front of my visage: but at that moment, Me, the sixteen year old adherent of the revered Mahatma – a lass whose subordination and peace of mind few had any incertitude to – was ready to abandon all savoir-fare and take down with Palaeolithic fervour that single gentleman who sat by the casement with a seemingly innocuous smile: behind which I knew hid the most devilish of designs, that perhaps – on one of his under-weather days – would Shock Ol’ Nick, himself.
Perilously enamoured with the novel notions of male superiority and self-love; dangerously obsessed with table-tennis balls and words synonymous with the crass synonym of ‘copulation’: this gentleman; had first taken my heart on a rollercoaster ride – that ended rather badly – then mocked me with dubious promises of camaraderie,and now seemed to be absolutely determined to shred through my last vestige of tolerance and have me seethe before an audience of twelve inchoate, tittering monkeys.
Thus as I sat there, trying my best to ignore the exacerbating comments about my ‘popping eyes’ and ‘flappy eyelids’; I began to wonder what was it that made these certain homo-sapien males direct all their energy towards compromising the compos mentis of an ill-fated female? Why was it that in spite of their resolute claim of hatred toward their unfortunate victim – and vicious pronouncement of the inception of violence in their hearts at the mere mention of her name – that they could in no way refrain from First: glowering strangely, alluding mockingly, teasing uncompromisingly, and then after establishing their hatred so profoundly: stepping in as knight in shining armour and becoming protector of her tender emotions – rebuking anybody who dared to talk to her impolitely?
Why was it that this believer of the erratic disposition of women was so erratic in behaviour himself?
Ofcourse, my mother offered her charming solutions, “Well, my dear, it’s very clear that this young man in interested in you. He does it to get your attention! It’s what they all do! Why in my time….” My bold sibling of a decade’s experience offered, “Di, I’ll bash him up tomorrow at L. break.” My bestfriend – who very annoyingly giggles at me instead of assisting me in the face of his bouts – offered, “It’s clear Shayo, he’s chuffed to see you so chaffed. Its jolly good entertainment you know, to see you face turn so red!” While Male Colleague A believed, “He obviously hates you – a lot – you should ignore him.” And male Colleague B advised, “He’s trying to be friends, accept it.”
Needless to say, all of this was not in the least helpful. I am still stuck, like the hundred odd women in situations similar to mine, wondering what in the world goes on in this boy’s head – apart from a series of complicated chemical reactions caused by hormones due to puberty – that causes him to behave in such a fickle manner toward me.
Thus, I’ve written five-hundred-and-fifty-five words that I shudder to show both my mother and my teachers – and god forbid it should ever reach him – and yet my predicament remains unsolved, and my brain seems taxed with pondering over possible explanations. If You however do come up with an interesting and fool proof plan of defence against this fascinating species of fickle temperament, do inform me at the earliest, and you shall have, my ear for as long as you please...
Till then, to keep my calm, I shall resort to ducking under benches, hiding behind A concise Book of ISC Chemistry and An Insight to High-school Biology, making a beeline for the Ladies, and pretending to be momentarily deaf – when my beloved bête noire decides that he should correspond with me.
