In my defense...

In my childhood I dreaded to say ‘I forgot’ to anyone.

 For one, I was enrolled into a Convent school where the nuns considered wearing nail polish as a severe crime. Forgetting to bring a book or an assignment was blown up into an act worthy to be reported at the nearest Police Station. When they distributed books for the academic year, they gave us two notebooks just for composition writing. One for English, and the other for second language, Malayalam in my case. So composition notebooks looked alike for everyone from first grade to the twelfth. Which also means that if you dint bring it, you cannot take another notebook and pretend like it is the composition book and save yourself a visit to the Principal’s room. Composition books were specially made to punish annoyingly forgetful students like me. However in a classroom of around 50 students there always were a couple of other miserable souls who were also brave enough to admit the same and followed me as the teacher escorted us to the Principal’s room.

Principal: ‘Hello Anita Jeyan. And others’.

(I am special you see)

Me: Good Morning Ma’am. *bowed head and held the ends of my skirt wide*

Principal, obviously not impressed by the show with the skirt, puts on a grim tone.

‘What did you do now?’

The teacher who escorted us to her room explained that according to the timetable one hour was assigned for composition writing and still we had not brought the composition book, with an expression as if she caught guns from our school bags. Principal started further interrogation.

 ‘How could you do this?’

‘I forgot, Ma’am’. I explained meekly.

‘How can you forget? Did you forget to comb your hair today? DID YOU?  DID YOU?’

I touched my head to check if my hair is okay, because she seemed to have thought I dint comb it.

‘Anita!” she screamed. ‘I am trying to tell you, that if you dint forget to comb your hair, but forgot your book, then you should reset your priorities’

Ohh. That’s what she meant. Hair is okay only. For a second she scared me.Why cant people convey properly what they want to say and stop acting like Shakespeare? I can expect some sort of straight-forwardness from a Principal, no? Anyway. The frustrated Principal sent us back to class with instructions that composition for that day could be written in the rough note (which I had forgotten, but who cares) and copied in the composition from home. The next day she wanted to see these composition books first thing when she comes to her office. She had way too much free time .

Thats my past. I continue to dwell in amnesia. When hubby drives back from the mall, I remember the most important item which was the reason I sent him to the grocery in the first place. From his animosity to any explanation of forgetfulness, I usually keep mum. Or if he finds out, I am tempted to lie in highly animated tones like, ‘ Dint you buy that? Omg what were you thinking?’

My Mom writes a Things-to-buy list and sticks them on the refrigerator with a magnet. Papa notes them down in a tiny yellow pad, in a much smaller and illegible handwriting, so that even if someone pickpockets him, they don’t crack the code of what secret vegetables he is going to buy:-/

By the way, the Principal is nothing compared to how my parents react if I told them I forgot something.

What I am trying to say is, when I forget, I want to say that I forgot. If it is not taken gently, I will be tempted to lie. If you tempt me to lie, then you are answerable to God. ;-)