MY FIRSTS AND BESTS

            Was watching Vijay Awards. Director Shankar, after receiving the Chevalier Shivaji Ganesan award, spoke that Endhiran seemed to be his first movie though it was statistically his 10^th one. This sent me wondering about what my firsts are in life.

My first and favorite song is a baby uttering Amma as a new – born baby; not that which fetched me laurels in vocal competitions.

My first hit at the receiving end was from my parents who patted me gently on the first day of my kindergarten; not my primary class teacher who thrashed me for not doing my homework.

My first ever reward was the first kiss on my cheek by mom when I must have been not more than 1 day old; not the prize I got by winning an elocution contest.

My first ever adviser is my bro, who has been instrumental in my completing higher secondary education and getting admission in a prestigious university; not my high school teachers or some educational consultants giving free advice.

My first ever hero is always my dad, who reinvents himself afresh after a hardship; not the character who fights 20 men simultaneously in a movie.

My first ever friend is my darling Duppi the kitten, who is sadly no more (RIP Duppi); not Vigneshwar Sundararajan, who I know right from LKG.

The first ever garden I witnessed is the backyard of my house (which was once fertile); not the Brindavan Gardens of Mysore.

The first ever drama I watched was the one which mom enacted herself to make me eat during my young ages; not Hamlet or Ponniyin Selvan.

My first choice bike is always the Dinosaur toddler’s cycle, in which I hypothetically did all the burnouts, imagining myself to be a superhero when I was 5; not the one which I drive now (Splendor+, which is obviously dad’s).

My first ever art work was my scribbling in the walls of my home using Apsara pencils when I had been about 1 1/2 feet tall; not the simulations I do using AutoCAD now.

My first ever service was sharing a part of my food with a buddy, whose mom couldn’t bring his lunch on that particular day when I was in my 3^rd grade; not the blood donation camp which I attended recently.

The first contemporary English speaker, according to me, is my cousin, who is in Chennai from her childhood; not Winston Churchill or Steve Jobs.

The first ever fast bowler whom I adored is my bro’s pal, who could bowl at 120 kph; not Shoaib Akthar or Brett Lee.

The first ever awesome mind – boggling fielding which I saw was a man perfectly transferring the red bricks without dropping even once, from one floor to another, during the construction of a building; not the heroic save of Jhonty Rhodes or Mohammad Kaif at the boundary line.

My first ever ’jill jill cool cool’ experience was the tour to Munnar and Ooty; not the day when Voltas air – conditioner was installed in my home.

The first and fastest ever multi – tasking person in my lifetime so far has always been mom, who could cook, sing, pray and fetch water from the pipeline all at the same time; not Chitti, the Robot.

My first ever sad moment was when India lost the final of the 2003 ICC World Cup; not that situation when my teacher abused me in front of the whole class for coming late.

My first agonizing moments were those when I had waited from 12:25 PM every Saturday to watch Junior G, which would be telecast from 12:30 to 1:00 in DD; not those 90 seconds of red signal in the roads.

My first ever fear was to switch on the motor, in the pretense of getting electrocuted; not while watching Grudge or Chandramukhi.

My first ever tension was when India needed 4 off a ball to seal a match; not the last hour preparations for the end semester examinations.

The first ever gang of dons I had a grudge upon was those seniors out at school, who would not wear the top most button of the shirt; not those underground dadas of Bollywood and Hollywood movies.

The places where I long to go are the two schools where I have studied; not the hill stations or malls or theme parks.

My first ever story database was my elder GRANDMA, who was very much comfortable in creating fantasy tales and who left this world when I was in 10^th standard (Miss you very much, granny chellam); not Mark Twain or Louis Carol.