The last one hour has been great fun.Right now, there is about a quarter of an apple beside my monitor as i write this blog. There is a knife. There are some wads of cotton. There is band-aid. And, on the little finger on my left hand is an antiseptic-lotion-drenched ball of cotton wrapped with a handkerchief.Wait....now there is band-aid on the finger instead of that cotton and handkerchief. Below the band-aid is a nice little red gash, like a tattoo of a sword,but a few mm deep.
Yes,I have shed blood.But alas, it is for no noble cause! This is the second time in the same week that i have made a cut one of my fingers while trying to cut an apple. The knife is incredibly sharp. The last time i had cut through the slice and on to my finger. This time the knife slid of the skin and shot right in to my little finger. For a second i thought it might have cut the bone. Well it hit there anyways. I cursed my rotten luck with this knife, dropped the apple and knife on the floor and ran to the wash basin. I guess the my blood liked the nice and warm environment inside my body and decided to make itself comfortable there for there was little blood coming out. But the moment i kept it under the water it began to ooze out, then flow, then gush. Soon i was panicking. I quickly ran back, grabbed some dettol and ran down the stairs of the two floors and all the way to the mess to keep my hand under the water cooler's tap. This is supposed to stanch the flow of blood but my earlier assumptions were justified; the blood, now disturbed from its slumber by the cold of the water began to pour almost. Luckily, a couple of my wingmates were there just then. 'Ambulance?' was the first question. Nah, an ambulance coming to pick me up coz i cut myself with a knife?! The thought embarassed me. So i dismissed it and asked them to get cotton instead. 'There are some new russian nurses there apparently. It is a good oppurtunity to interact i'd say.', he smiled. Well, it certainly was but i had to resist temptation in order to check the gushing of blood. So i repeated my request.They glanced at the basin,which had its drain located oddly at the side and at a height so that at any point of time about 4 inches, in height, of water can stagnate. It began to change colour from the nice, clean transparent of water to a murky, frightful, red. They ran.
In the meantime, people were walking in often to fill water and i was just standing there for seconds, minutes, keeping the cold water running and holding my finger under it. The cut was too small to be visible beneath the current of water but slowly the basin was getting darker at the bottom. Darn! If only those guys from MIT hadn't already proved that blood is thicker than water. One guy who came filling water saw about five drops of blood gush out and spill on the floor when i removed my hand from under the tap for a second and he squirmed. Another came when i was still holding it under the water. He looked at the finger.Nothing.He looked at the basin. Gross. The bottom half was almost the colour of blood itself. He left in a hurry. The cotton hadn't arrived yet. So i rushed out to see. Leaving a trail of blood. It was coming. The delay was because the general secretary, whose responsibility it is to have first-aid, had failed to perform his duty. But fortunately, along the way, some M.Tech bongs(begalis) had it. So i was saved. Now i just had to keep the cotton pressed against my finger and the bleeding would stop.Eventually.
As i was keeping the cotton tightly pressed against the finger one of the two wingmates asked, "Did u feel that warm tingling sensation that one feels when blood oozes out?" The other interjected,"Yeah, i know. You always get that warm feeling." Uh oh, i never felt it. Did that mean i was cold-blooded? Thankfully no. I had been holding my finger under the freezing cooler water for so long that it had turned numb! Phew, i was human after all. Then the two narrated the conversation one of them had with this particular good samaritan, saviour M.Tech bong:
"Do you have some cotton?"
"Cotton...cotton..that soft, white..you know cotton"
"Oh, you mean co-tone(co as in coax and tone as in 'thrown' without the 'r'.)?"
We all had a good laugh at the pronunciation. I do not intend to offend any bongs. I too have an accent,perhaps, and it is only human that we laugh innocously at each others accents. I told them to my friends to leave now. For blood was still determined to push his way through all that cotton and i decided i can take him on:one on one. So i stayed there for some time, still holding the cotton, walking around, thinking what a waste of blood! If only i had collected it all in a bowl and not let it go and stagnate in that basin, i could may be have stored it in my room and then kept generous amounts out each night to divert the mosquitos to that source so that i may be spared. Ah, tough luck! I couldn't help smiling though. People shed blood by the litres over battles with each other and here i was having had to fuss over my little finger for the last one hour; and all for no purpose at all. However, emotions were mixed. I was disappointed too. I was armed with a knife, my opponent was a half-cut, unarmed, helpless looking apple and yet i lost as it cleverly shielded my blow and diverted it neatly on to my own hand! Loser! I can't fight an apple even, how am i going to face the world? Thus thinking, i walked back, slowly, towards my room. It was then that i felt happy again. A huge blood trail, all the way from the mess, right up the 4 fleet of stairs and in to my room! I had made an impression on my hostel; an indelible trail of blood would be there once nicely dried. The grand old hostel would remember me now forever! I wanted to make sure no one stepped on the drops and spoiled my chances at fame. That way, even a 100 years down the line there would be this blood trail leading from 358, Alakananda hostel all the way down the stairway and up to the mess water cooler and people would ask how? And the story would be passed on by word of mouth year after year in a slightly rehashed manner until perhaps a day will come when one fellow might say to another, "There was a heroic student by the name of Karthik who chased and hunted down a bunch of armed thieves who had come stealing in to the hostel at night.And this, timid friend, is the blood he had to sacrifice in order to catch the villains.Step not on those coloured spots but admire and bow in respect for his courage." But why did he end his chase at the water-cooler? I hope the change in the JEE pattern will ensure that the future generations who come here are incapable of asking such questions. Yay, i am going to be famous people!
I need to cut and eat apples more often.