In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Embrace the Ick.”
As it is, too much is happening in life lately. Now, by too much I mainly mean party, and some academic stuff too. About partying in Doha and all the celebrations, we can definitely discuss more in my next post. Here, I was only intending to tell you how staying away from writing for a couple of days brings the obnoxious writer’s block back in my head. It makes me stay away from blogging some more. Then I start feeling weird and my mind threatens to explode.
I tried all the tricks up my sleeve to get back my ability to put the few words that I know, side by side in a non nonsensical manner. And then I was waiting for the daily prompt to come, was much looking forward to, today.
I was disappointed. Very. Repulsed, you can say. Because, that’s what today’s daily prompt is all about. To talk about ‘icks’, things that make our skin crawl, that too in a glorious way!
Frankly I don’t even get to interpret daily prompt most of the time, let alone personalise it and write. Most of the time it’s all of your posts, those who respond to Daily Post prompt religiously and efficiently, that inspires me.
Today, I was not even inclined to read anybody’s response. Thin skinned I am. Hypersensitivity is my thing. And to that extent, which might make me ickier to you over anything else.
Then why talk about repulsive things that will make skin crawl. Why even bother to think about one such. For I’m pretty sure, if I as much as even attempt to think, thousands of things will come up. Hah! See, there they are!
When I was a kid, Dad took me to a neighbourhood pond to teach swimming. Yes, I said pond, as in green algae covered koi pond. Eeek! Don’t make your eyes so big, don’t you look at me like that, please. I was born in the outskirts of Calcutta, you see. During 1988–90, we had some green ponds around the places. People used to come to take bath, or wash clothes there. There were these broad concrete steps to enter the pond. I used to just stand and enjoy watching people there, shit scared to dive.
One day after lot of patronising from Dad, I decided to venture in. He promised to hold me all the time, and never go any further beyond the shallow water. My first step into water was cool. The concrete steps were still continuing below the water level. A little scummy and slippery, but still okay, you know. Then at one point the stairs ended. Yuck ! Yuck Yuck Yuck! Slimy, sticky, muddy pond base touched my toes; with snails in them and godknowswhat! By that time both my tows were inside and I didn’t know how to jump out of neck dip water.
“Why don’t you pull up your leg and start floating? That way, you won’t have to touch the mud anymore.” – Dad’s kind words. Yeah right! As if you get to start floating like a tadpole in the first go, just like that. Huh. I couldn’t. I didn’t learn swimming that day. I never went back to a pond again, any day.
However, eventually I did overcome my fear and repulsion; learned swimming in a clean swimming pool only when my job compelled me to, at a much later age. Swimming now is my next best hobby other than reading novels. A serene and calm ocean in Turkey recently allowed me an all-out freestyle, and an experience of freedom that I never felt before.
Albeit till date I could not embrace that icky pond base thingy.
Uhm, I think I have tackled today’s prompt without losing my face much, so far, and it will be safe to conclude it right here. Rest of the ick stuffs – well let’s just not go there. Shall we!