𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

**"Long, Long Ago..."** ............................................................ Long, long ago... *very* long ago... I’m talking about something that happened decades back on Earth. I was twelve years old then, studying in 8th grade. Back then, I wasn’t anywhere near what you see today—I was a scrawny little thing, like a half-baked stick figure. You couldn’t even call me a proper human; I looked more like a doodle drawn by someone who didn’t know how to draw. I was as thin as a mosquito. Pathetic... Back then, kids our age "knew" what love was—or so we thought, having seen it in movies. But even uttering the word "love" felt taboo. We believed it was something forbidden, almost dirty. The boldest act of rebellion for someone our age was secretly drawing heart symbols on classroom walls or blackboards. The "artist" who dared do this would tremble in fear for a week, as if expecting divine punishment! Around that time, a tiny sprout of affection for a girl bloomed in my heart. I wouldn’t dare call it "love"—maybe just a crush, an attraction to the opposite s*x! (Joke alert: If you’d said the word "s*x" back then, people would’ve fainted on the spot. Heh heh... pure village innocence!) My "crush" meant feeling a flutter when I saw her, curiosity to overhear her conversations, and an urge to follow her scent. Was this love? (Or some nerve disorder? Who knows!) I tailed this beautiful girl from Class 8B endlessly. She had no clue what was going on—until she realized a creep was stalking her. Girls have eyes on the back of their heads, after all! During tutorials, we’d sit together. I’d stare at her. Whenever Cupid’s arrow accidentally grazed her, she’d glance back shyly. One day, during a test, I was scribbling something hurriedly. She nudged me and whined, "Show me yours..." I, the noble fool, showed her. I scored zero on that test—no idea what she got! After that, she grew closer to me. We’d chat sometimes, exchange glances, collect fallen eyelashes... It was thrilling. Saturdays and Sundays felt like exile; Mondays were heaven’s gates. But then... a *dream*: I needed to shine in front of her. How? Maybe sing at the school youth festival? I used to sing well once. At home, I’d mimic Yesudas from the radio, belting out the next song like a pro. But one day, my dad overheard me. That ended my singing career. He thrashed me and growled, "If you ever open your mouth to sing again, I’ll knock your teeth out!" My confidence shattered. Acting? No talent. Sports? No stamina. I waited for *any* chance to shine. Then... it came! The school Onam festival had a **biscuit-biting competition**. Yes! This was my stage. I’d dominate. My future was bright here—I’d rise to represent India in biscuit-biting! *"Bharat Mata Ki Jai!"* **Game Day** I marched to school, oozing confidence. Today, I’d be the hero in her eyes. *"Yes, I Can!"* Back then, 8th-grade boys wore knickers. Pants were reserved for 10th graders. My knickers’ buttons had snapped, but I didn’t care. I folded the front flap like a mundu and tucked it in at the hip before entering the arena. Teachers, boys, girls—thousands watched! Amid the crowd, I spotted her and flashed a grin. She didn’t smile back—how would she know who I was smiling at? Five other chubby boys competed. *"Outta my way, lardballs!"* The game began. I leaped like a frog, snapping at the dangling biscuit. The crowd cheered wildly. With every jump, I resembled Virat Kohli getting caught off-guard on a no-ball—clueless and awkward. *God, will I lose here too?!* Mid-jump, my knickers—secured by sheer will—slid down. **I became the world’s first biscuit-biting superstar to lose his pants mid-game!** The crowd froze. Then boys howled with laughter. Girls covered their eyes, giggling. Teachers facepalmed, shaking with suppressed laughter. Meanwhile, I—like a husband caught cheating by his wife—stood stunned, unsure whether to cover my dignity or flee. The headmaster roared: *"Knickers up! Knickers up!"* I pulled them up. Then, without thinking, I bolted like a rolling coconut and vanished! After that, she avoided me like the plague. What went wrong?! That year, she took a TC and left for another school. A secret: **Love dies where dignity is lost.** --- *Shivan Mannayam* *(Half this is lies, half is... "flavor"!)* --- **Notes for Context:** - **Yesudas**: Legendary Indian playback singer. - **TC**: Transfer Certificate (used when changing schools). - **Mundu**: Traditional Kerala garment tied around the waist. - Cultural jokes (e.g., "s*x" causing fainting) highlight the era's innocence.