‘As promised’…is probably a terrible way to commence an article, especially when you have a litany of failed unbroken promises to ruminate upon. I personally find it difficult to keep promises, so I rarely do. Yet, if ever I do, as far as possible I try to carry it out assiduously. Probably, the first ever promise in my life can be traced back to, when I was in the first grade, a thin frail being, blissfully sprawled on the floor, trying to make sense of the colossal homework piled before me. Every three minutes I would turn to my sister and seek assistance.
She herself all of ten, did her best to help me out and as was expected there was a blunder. A blunder that bound the two of us in a secret pact. It was a very simple act, not to ever open my mouth till my dying day. I nodded ruefully, failing to fully comprehend the memorandum of understanding I had just entered with my elder sibling. Never open my mouth was a difficult prospect, add to it something as absurd as dying. I quickly bit into my finger nails, a trait I had recently picked up from my bench mate. We were secretly and seriously working on the job of completely and absolutely ridding our fingers of their nails. I was yet, to be enlightened on the learning outcome of this cannibalistic exercise. Until then, I religiously carried on the painful task assigned. Unfortunately, my progress did not flatter him. And I was told rather bluntly that I need to be more diligent. But, in spite of or rather despite everything, life was good then.
When I look back now, I think the blunder was insignificant so much so that it did not warrant anybody’s attention leave alone that of my teacher. But, it was not meant to be so, the next day in class the teacher held my book for the class to get a good view, while she herself peered through the gaping hole in the page, where Maths homework was meant to be. I stood up when my name was called, the teacher, towered over me, and smirked, triggering laughter. I was cowed down by the entire scene rolling out before me.
As I stood before this monstrous teacher, with a hysteric class in the backdrop, I heard myself say, “Sorry teacher, it was metake,… mother promise…’ her hands dropped from her hips and she looked at me as if I had set the wrong genie free. And before I knew it, my cheek was stinking, as I was neatly knocked off my seat. Shocked, I struggled to find my seat and literally collapsed in it.
Back home, my mother knew something was amiss, and though I had briefed my sister of the morning developments, my mother was oblivious and kept probing me. From the corner of my eye, my elder sibling had a finger on her lips. I slowly nodded, just as much as it dawned upon me the significance of the phrase- ‘sealing my lips till my dying day.’ I surely did encounter a near death situation in the morning and my lips were sealed. I had just cleared the Illuminati test making me feel, all grown up, matured and moreover a braveheart.
