"I pick up my pen and open up my notebook.I stop and stare stupidly between the lines.I find myself stifling with the heat in the room and the voice of the professor is just boring into my head like a drill. I look down at my hand which is furiously clicking away at my pen but I am still not able to write.I knew what i had to jot down but then the complexity of the problem was how? when i am not sure of the basic thing that is required by me to write-my handwriting"(yes its true, it takes me minutes to configure later on whatever i scribble and well its a' painful' task)
So this brief interlude of my thoughts in class has a long story behind it.It started when I was four and got my first writing lessons.My mother, a staunch supporter of the cursive writing had to slap her way through to make me cross my t's and loop my l's.My dismal four lined notebook,frequently rubbed and nearly torn used to fetch me a meagre B at the end of the day.My mother with grim satisfaction carried out her daily ritual of making me write one page of writing till the time I came to third grade.
I admired my new best friend's writing a lot.It slanted towards the left.I started learning how to write again.She taught me,Both of us sitting at the last bench and scribbling away to glory, and myself carrying out the complete act of defiance to my mother's painstaking efforts.What followed after this with my mother,I don't remember(or maybe don't want to if rightly put).It was traumatic. I had guessed it from my mother's narrowed down eyes and pursed lips when I had questioned her about it in my later years.I managed to write left for two years when a little trick was played on me.She hurt my little ego by praising my uncle's artistic writing and my cousin's prim and neat one.It was then that I could take it no more and was introduced to my first ink pen.I started slanting my handwriting to the right now.It was painful, emotionally and physically.The end product? ahem...was neither prim nor artistic.It deserved only a grimace.Nevertheless I didn't stop writing and kept on at it till it became better and I started getting little praises for it.I was elated when I was told to write certificates for the school function.I started imagining all those students staring fondly at their names on the certificates, written in my handwriting.
So school got over,mother was happy and I too.College saw me jotting down lectures and writing in exams at top speed till all the beautiful cursive beacame completely blurred and none of my friends and professors understood what I wrote.Worse!one of them said my letters danced like in Eshaan Awasthi's of Taare Zameen Par fame.My marks in exams drooped to a miserable low and finally after blaming my brains,my ill luck,my destiny,I thought of more realistic things.It was again a blow to my ego and a sad submission for my mum to whom I explained that the inevitable had to be done again.So my handwriting has changed again.I break my letters now( to which my dad offhandedly remarked without realizing that I was already so distraught and irritated.." Why dont you try writing straight now????") and hope that the examiners are able to understand it.My mother fondly looks at my old writings and says that she hopes to see me writing like that again.
What I pray and hope is that besides my signature,I have to do all the written stuff on the computer.Thank God!!!!!! sorry Bill Gates for Microsoft Word.