Of lies, flashbacks and bedtime stories

This post is dedicated to Sowmya, claims to be a stud liar.

I've always been a stud liar. Something about spinning wild stories amuses me to no end. The haymaker that puts the icing on each lie is a very stud innocent/oblivious look that I manage to muster. It comes right after saying something with the utmost confidence. The two laws of lying Sowmya proposed were.

1) Let it not bite you back in the bum
2) Always have a back up

I propose a third.

3)In case both fail. Just look like you don't have a clue.

It may not validate the lie but it sure as hell lets you make a clean getaway. Sometimes it even earns you sympathy. I know I must sound extremely mean when I say this, but I have to say... I never lied about anything that mattered nor did I never lie with mailicious intent.

Well at least to the people I like. [sly grin]

My most prized yarns however come from the time I was a wee boy in khaki shorts. It comes from a time when I was in the cub scout for a year and knew the duties of a cub as instructed by Lord Baden Powell himself. I would dream of gold stars on my sleeve and joining the IAF to become a fighter pilot.

It was also the year when I got my first "First Rank". Funnily I still remember the whole episode, but for some reason I'm sure the episode the way I remember it (airbrushed et al.) is probably not the way it happened.

The teacher would call out the name of each student in the roll number order and loudly call out the marks of everyone. And I knew whom to watch out for. That boy Lloyd, who never did anything but study, Manoj, who was so sweet it made me want to puke and the dark horses: Raylen, who was a real close friend, but still this was war and finally, Naren, who somehow always managed to get First rank in every mid-term exam, and only the mid term exam [I still don't get it]. But he was a threat nonetheless.

So there I was Sahil R. Kini Roll No:47 (The year of Indian Independence, it kinda made me strangely proud of my roll number) and my name was to come after all of theirs. Which reminds me, if I'm ever gonna name my kid, I'll make sure her/his name starts with an S. It's perfect, not too early so you can come 5 minutes late for class, and not too late so the wait for your answer sheet doesn't kill the kid.

I always felt sorry for Yogesh. Roll No:82.

Ok so back to the year 1993. It was the second test marks. I was sure I'd done well, but Manoj had done impressively. He was on top. The dark horses had missed by a large margin and Lloyd was sulking in his seat. (He never really sulked. I hated that about him.) and Roll no.46 just blew by. Finally, she said "47, Sahil, First Rank and then my marks [which I don't remember]". I was stunned.

My first first rank.

I stood up and walked all the way to the front of the class in my cub scout unifrom (on thursdays we wore our cubs uniform to school) complete with tie and beret. And I could feel all the eyes following me, Lloyd just looked at me blankly, Manoj smiled kindly (The bastard was always so gracious. Grumble) and I grinned as I took my report card from the teacher. I also remember applause. However I think thats the airbrush kicking in.

So yes, it was during this wonderous time. When I was all of 8 years old, that I would go to school and tell my classmates fantastic stories in an overbearing voice that makes me hate myself whenever I see videos of my kid sisters 5th birthday party.

You see, I had this neighbour called Mrinal who had just returned from England with his kid sister and family. They settled in right next door and at that time they seemed soo much cooler than we were. Mrinal was just as obnoxious as me as a child, maybe more (I'd like to think so). But he had a cool accent and polished english and knew about the chocolates I only managed to see in Archie comics ads.

And he had a Nintendo (gasp!).

He was also a brilliant liar. He'd tell me stories, mad stories about how Vega from Street Fighter the game was actually from the star Vega and was a huge warrior who kicked ass. At 14 he introduced me to RHCP and told me John Frusciante was the coolest guitarist ever and was Slash's elder brother and had taught him how to play. Whenever he told me about these cool people I'd never heard about, I'd be too awed to care whether he was bluffing or not.

I mean I knew those stories he'd spin were yarns, but heck I gave him the benefit of the doubt because at that moment, I had to admit, he was way cooler than me. 8 years later at age 16 I did tell him what I really thought of him. But by then, he'd grown up too. I miss him now, in my own little way. The boy who taught me all about putting pseud. The boy who my dad rightly refers to as "Guru".

So at age 8 most of my stories were complex extrapolations of the tiny fibs Minnu (thats what they called Mrinal at home. His only achilles heel. HA!) made passing references to. They would contain the most exquisite details, like how Vega's forehead had a scar because that's where lightning had entered him to give him his powers. But I wouldn't leave it at that. I would tell them of how I had met Vega and how the world of Street Fighter was soo much cooler than Milagres Primary School. I'd tell them that my 4 day vacation to my aunt's house in Puttur was actually a Himalayan expedition ( a phrase that I'd just heard from Minnu the day before ). I'd spin yarns about pretty much anything.

And that obsession with detail, of how the air smelt and how the ice was grainy and Vega's forhead still haunt me when I write anything descriptive to this date, or when I watch a well spun fairytale like Pirates of the Carribean. It's just one of those things Minnu taught me that has stayed with me still.

And probably still will when I tell my kids a bedtime story.