It was a long time ago. I think 2000 maybe? Or earlier even. We were back in India for some reason, someone's wedding or some such (not our own, for sure). I had to get my passport stamped so we lugged in that nasty US Consulate line. Like a romantic date. Thank heavens for being young. I don't think we complained much. So my stamping thingie got done and I emerged out, and searched for him. And then started walking towards where he was standing. Now since this was so long ago, some of the details are not very clear in my head, so I am just sort of trying to keep it coherent. Anyway I remember starting to walk to him. There was a down-slope in the road, and suddenly everyone was screaming because some kind of push-cart thing started rolling towards us (me). I couldn't see it at all because, the cart was headed in my direction alright, but there was a big fat lard ass of a guy between me and said run-away cart.
I didn't know which way to turn or run. Sure, I should have turned and run away but I just couldn't see past the lard butt of the guy. Of course the next thing I know I am flat on the ground outside the Chennai US Consulate place and there is a fat guy fallen on my hand. I yanked my hand out from under him (using cranes, husband, and a couple of other engineering marvels). And we laughed and laughed. Seriously, so different being nearly-forty. Now I don't think we would have laughed. We returned back home like nothing had happened.
The next morning I looked down in alarm at my hand. It was swollen like an idli. That flat part between the fingers and the wrist, looked ridiculous. Also a bit like blueberry idli due to the colouration. We took it to a doctor who hardly believed the ridiculous story and gave me some medicines. It was okay in a day or two after that. But I think there was pain, I vaguely remember. This event in our life is referred to as 'Khushboo Hand' event. Because my husband looked at my hand and said, 'Well, Khushboo has hands that look like that every day' and I laughed.
On tuesday, I was innocently standing under a tree outside my office and talking to Pratap. I was convincing him to run in the MARG Chennai Runners Marathon on Nov 6th. Its such a beautiful route, I was telling him. So many beautiful trees, I was saying. Plop. A fat red ant from one of the beautiful trees you will run past on Nov 6th, fell on my hand. Zing. It bit me. FUCK OFF ANT I said (in my mind) and picked it up and threw it away (because Pratap would be shocked to hear me swear).
"See, I am not complaining much though an ant bit me" I told the monster when I went home and she was saying her hips hurt (!), pointing to the slight swelling and the place where it pierced my skin. The blasted red ant.
I twisted and turned and scratched all night, woke up and ran my wednesday morning planned workout in a half-assed manner, and when the sun came up, looked at my hands. And found myself starting at Khushboo Hand Part Deux. You knew this was where this story was going, right? Apparently, I am such a colossal pansy that this stuff happens to me. I had to take Allegra, feel sleepy through a bunch of things, apply copious amounts of Caladryl, and cut my nails pretty much to the base. Now it feels a bit better though its still big. Like if Khushboo successfully went on a diet...
I didn't know which way to turn or run. Sure, I should have turned and run away but I just couldn't see past the lard butt of the guy. Of course the next thing I know I am flat on the ground outside the Chennai US Consulate place and there is a fat guy fallen on my hand. I yanked my hand out from under him (using cranes, husband, and a couple of other engineering marvels). And we laughed and laughed. Seriously, so different being nearly-forty. Now I don't think we would have laughed. We returned back home like nothing had happened.
The next morning I looked down in alarm at my hand. It was swollen like an idli. That flat part between the fingers and the wrist, looked ridiculous. Also a bit like blueberry idli due to the colouration. We took it to a doctor who hardly believed the ridiculous story and gave me some medicines. It was okay in a day or two after that. But I think there was pain, I vaguely remember. This event in our life is referred to as 'Khushboo Hand' event. Because my husband looked at my hand and said, 'Well, Khushboo has hands that look like that every day' and I laughed.
On tuesday, I was innocently standing under a tree outside my office and talking to Pratap. I was convincing him to run in the MARG Chennai Runners Marathon on Nov 6th. Its such a beautiful route, I was telling him. So many beautiful trees, I was saying. Plop. A fat red ant from one of the beautiful trees you will run past on Nov 6th, fell on my hand. Zing. It bit me. FUCK OFF ANT I said (in my mind) and picked it up and threw it away (because Pratap would be shocked to hear me swear).
"See, I am not complaining much though an ant bit me" I told the monster when I went home and she was saying her hips hurt (!), pointing to the slight swelling and the place where it pierced my skin. The blasted red ant.
I twisted and turned and scratched all night, woke up and ran my wednesday morning planned workout in a half-assed manner, and when the sun came up, looked at my hands. And found myself starting at Khushboo Hand Part Deux. You knew this was where this story was going, right? Apparently, I am such a colossal pansy that this stuff happens to me. I had to take Allegra, feel sleepy through a bunch of things, apply copious amounts of Caladryl, and cut my nails pretty much to the base. Now it feels a bit better though its still big. Like if Khushboo successfully went on a diet...
3 comments:
Those ants have got some fire. I totally know what you are talking about.
Painful. I also do the swearing in my head. A lot. Hope the hands turn to normal Kenny size soon.
Poor you, both times:(
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