In Which the Monk is Punctured, Literally

I can't sit for long, still or otherwise. Oh, I am no bundle of energy, nor am I a more-than-a-stick-but-less-than-a-club of dynamite. Friends and family will testify to that. I am happiest when horizontal, preferably with a good book, music (no, NOT Boyzone) and peanuts. I am nuts about nuts. However, I enjoy sports, and I'm always game for shooting a few hoops or showing somebody how to play that immaculate cover drive (in theory, of course). My mother has risked many a heart attack and burst blood vessel in screaming at me to get off the bed and make it, for God's sake, or you won't get breakfast. If there is one thing I shall never be accused of being, it is of being a pint-sized dynamite. I mean, there's no way I'll ever be called pint-sized.

Really, I delude myself. Sometimes I can make small talk.

Well, the reason I can't sit in one place for long is because there's this small hole in my lower back. And it hurts when I put pressure on it. It's been put there because there was something near my tailbone that had to come out. Nothing major, I assure you, but still, it's surgery. My first one, too. Now I'll finally have that scar I always wanted. Unfortunately, not one that I acquired in a battle to the death, and neither is it suitably located, but what the hell, it's a scar. I now have the right to nod gravely and say, yes, I have gone under the knife.

I think there was a point in telling you guys all of this. Yeah, now I remember. See, this is the reason why I haven't been able to post regularly. I mean, it is slightly inconvenient to type lying down, and even that is bad for my back, apparently. And I seem to have completely lost the ability to write in the traditional way. Except in the case of exams, of course. Believe me, there's nothing like impending doom to get the creative juices flowing. I'm particularly proud of this definition I cooked up for Statistical Quality Control in the last cycle test. I used words/phrases like mathematical device, suboptimal parameters and evaluate, and I got full marks. Maybe I should get into management.

You'd think going under the knife would generate some sympathy, at least at home. My mom actually laughed out loud when I broke the news to her. "Just above your butt, did you say?", she said, and went back to doing the ha-has. I informed her, quite coldly, that I saw no cause for such mirth, and would she kindly tell me which part she found funny, so that I could join in. As usual, my sarcasm was lost on her. She continued rolling. Things got better after the first dressing, though, which was a couple of days back. It was pretty bad, and I came close to screaming the place down. She was with me, and was ready with words of comfort to soothe the fevered brow. I even got an extra slab of Hershey's (strictly rationed, and viciously fought over), much to the annoyance of my sister.

She's a hopeless case, though. She doesn't seem to care in the least. Oh look, I feel a small poem coming on, that might illustrate my point more effectively. Here goes:

Be a dear, I said, and fetch me some water,
Be my ministering angel, aur meri seva kar.
Ho hum, she yawned, you're not in pain,
Ab nautanki band kar, it's all in vain.
But tell me this, brother o' mine,
My new look, will it make men pine?

I gave her a fairly graphic description of what she could do with her new look.

My Dad was completely unperturbed, once he learnt that it wasn't anything serious. But then, he's been like that ever since the Central Government Health Scheme took effect. As long as the bill goes directly to NAL (and he doesn't have to see it), he's happy. He informed me excitedly, the moment I came out of the operation theatre, that Tendulkar was the top-scorer in India's disastrous second innings against England. And then he learnt Tendulkar was injured, and that he had to undergo surgery. He was heartbroken, and didn't say much all day. Oh well. Atleast Sachin and I (or is it me?) have something in common now.

So, the point is, I don't know how regularly I'll be able to post, what with this unforeseen calamity having struck me down. Besides, my writing has become a little jaded, methinks. Maybe a break will do me good. However, impending doom might work. And that definitely isn't going to be in short supply anytime soon, what with the semester exams being just around the corner.

Cheers!!

P.S. Did I mention, the nurses in Manipal are very pretty? They were so patient with my questions, and I had so many.