And I Went To The Psychaitrist

And so, it all started.

I was a normal kid in school till the 5th grade, having the normal hormonal spurts.. i.e. pimples on my face (what else did you think you sick perverts!!) and some problems with the female population in my school. You see, I was in a co-ed and had not yet faced such a prob.

Then came a miracle of God… my Dad decided to move to another area in the city and so, I had to change my school. The new one was an all-boys convent. You see, as a kid if one gets away with the opposite sex scenario, it’s a crystal clear world ahead of him. Well, it was not actually crystal clear… I had two all-gal convent schools in a very-near vicinity and one being affiliated to the same church as ours, we had a very steady and regular visiting companionship every Mondays and Thursdays for our religion/value education class. Me being a non-catholic, had my share with the female kind in our class. And God, did I look forward to attending it. In my living memory, I think I did not lose a single functional value-education class. Well, it was really ‘Value-Education’ after-all.

As for the rest 95% (well, 8 classes a day and 5 days a week.. you calculate) of the time.. I was a spoilt kid spoilt in the sense, I lived school life to the fullest, broke school rules to the maximum, defied teacher’s orders to the maximum.. well under permissible limits. Yeah, those were the good ol’ days. Thank heavens Mumbai Mirror was not available those days or else, I would had been famous for all the wrong reasons.

So, came the 8th grade. Days were passing by happily until the fated open-house that year. At an open house, one is required to get their parents or guardians so that they will get to know the teacher (nudge.. nudge) of their ward, his academic progress and clear any doubts pertaining to their ward’s academic and school life. This time, our class teacher had changed. By that I mean our class teacher was not the regular ones you can find.. she was a bit cautious type. The one who will take interest in your breathing pattern types lest you may mysteriously choke to death even if you are on an unmanned island without anything in your hands. She was just too much. So, this teacher after putting up with my antics for just about 2 months or so, decides that I should have a trip to the psychiatrist. She thought, ‘It will be good for the child’ and my dad also having the same notion since my birth, agreed instantaneously.

And, so the day arrived. I reviewed all that I had heard about psychiatrists, the notion that they are deemed to prove that you are a behemoth of satanic activity, also that they show you mysterious pictures and ask you to interpret those. Well, I was ready. I did not care of whatever he told me to tell him, my answer would be typical: I love Britney Spears’s songs and not the singer herself. I have not studied female bilolgy. I am not interested in Black Sabbath’s songs. The pictures he shows me are of beautiful flowers blooming. And not the least, no matter what, I was not gonna sleep on the couch.

So, we entered the psychiatrist office. He looked as one of those people who had long passed their professional expiry dates. He gave a very big smile, welcoming us and offered me chocolates. I declined instantaneously stating my allergy towards chocolates lest they were injected with some truth-spewing medicine. They are the players of mind you see.. He asked me all sort of questions, some of those:

Which is my favorite TV serial?
Ans: Mickey Mouse

Which is my favorite sport?
Ans: Carrom

Which is my favorite personality?
Ans: Mother Theresa

What do I do in my pastime?
Ans: Paint flowers and gardens.

What do I think of Sharon Stone?
Ans: Who is she?

Do I like WWF?
Ans: Whats WWF?

Why does my teacher complain about me to my father?
Ans: I dunno, maybe she must be talking about some other guy who was mistaken to be my father’s son who is actually not his son but some other father’s son which is cause I am my father’s son and I am his only son.

What would you like to be when you grow up?
Ans: I would like to be a doctor.

Why would you like to be a doctor?
Ans: Because I like to help people and make them happy (yeah right!!).

Do I know any swear-words like bhen***d or something?
Ans: I know what saala means and use it but in rare cases.

And so, the session ended. Thank God, I was not subjected to the couch.
Conclusion: I needed to get out a little and get to know some guy stuff like mountain climbing or something. I was incidentally subjected to a lot of peer-pressure and had to take my time off books.
Dad was hell confused hearing diametrically opposite views from the doc and the teacher. Well, he decided to go with the doc and here I am, grown up without any constraints whatsoever and have not taken a trip to another psychiatrist whatsoever.