Gul Asnani, 2nd Year, COE elaborates on her ‘people’ problem, and faces a Diwali dilemma.
Illustration by Md. Faisal Akhtar, 3rd Year, EEE.
So, I had to finally pull myself out from the inside of the endearing sandwich of my bedsheet and my blanket. My mother had been (apparently) endlessly crying out for me and I had wilfully been ignoring all her cries with the utmost ease. This isn’t because I am a disrespectful person bringing nothing but disgrace to my parents, but because I go weak in the knees on the invitation to see ‘people’. The reason: I’m the uncrowned king of the omnipresent Kingdom of Introverts, since I shiver on the sight of ‘people’, more than anything else, though this auspicious kingship of mine means I have met very few people in my life anyway. Oh, wait! This might be the reason I think I’m the king, because I may never come to meet the ‘real’ king, since he may actually be ‘introverted’ to the extent that I, or any of my fellow ‘subjects’ of his, may be unable to even communicate with him!
I’ll come back to my narration. I had to stop since my mother’s calls had reached their crescendo and if I stretched the elastic thread of her patience to the point of snapping, I’d be deemed as a disgrace to the family. So, as I pulled out, I looked at my laptop, with whom I have been in a committed relationship for quite a while now. But I couldn’t face it, even as it had its arms outstretched and eyes searching for faith in my eyes. My vows of ’till death do us part’ must have been reverberating endlessly in its mind (CPU maybe?) and it must have been huddled by clouds of loneliness when I said “I’ll see you soon, buddy!”.
I started walking down the stairs, and as soon as my countenance flashed through the eyes of my mum, before I could even reach the lower realm of the stairs, she hurried to me, even while controlling her always-so-unmanageable sari. I had presumed she must be happy to see me, for the Gods had finally descended from Heaven above, but her eyes pierced right through mine like those of a blood-thirsty Dracula! She pulled my arm, took me back upstairs and rounded me up with the accusation of climbing down in pyjamas when she had starkly instructed me to show my face only when I was dressed up.
I heeded to her orders without a word, since according to her, I had already ‘ruined my image’, no, wait, ‘her image’. So, I had to put on some decent clothes (my pyjamas silently crying in the corner, I murmuring “what’s the problem with them anyway?!”). I went down and put on my cloying disposition, without a tinge of happiness. I responded to ‘people’ with a ‘hmm’, or ‘hmmm’, or ‘hmmmmm’, every two to three seconds and had absolutely no idea what any of them was talking about.
Such is the story of me, an introvert, every Diwali. Every single occasion, actually. Every. Single. One. Relatable? Welcome to my kingdom! Or, maybe, your kingdom?