While taking bed rest I realised that we all are so busy in our lives that we have forgotten how to live it. I had so many unfulfilled wishes in my childhood which I wanted to fulfil during my adulthood but ironically I forgot them in my craze of getting old. I was born with so many confusions floating around me. I was a silent girl in my childhood……silent to such an extent that my neighbours used to scare my granny that I might be a mute child but the scenario drastically changed when I was five. Till now I wonder that how and why was I silent…… My first confusion was whether to love a teacher or to hate her. I was a complete dumb headed brat who hated studies to the core. I was born in a super intelligent family where A had to be an apple and B had to be ball. My sister used to be the top scorers in her class and sadly even I topped my class but from the last. My mother left no stone unturned to make me a bright child. To her dismay it was tough for her to make me awake and survive during atrocious study hours. The confusion was so because I loved my mother despite being a teacher but hated the breed teachers. I still remember mom used to slog day and night in preparing question papers. She then devised a master plan to make me do it. She called my friends to play and in hoax of playing teacher teacher ,me and my friends were trapped. My friends somehow escaped as they finished and gave the solution to the deadly paper but for me the doors remained closed. Tution classes in class 1 sounds cute or funny at this stage but was not definitely at that stage. The second confusion was why alphabets teased us by looking similar. Yes , I am talking to b,d,p and q. The funny part is that after failing in class tests my tution teacher didn’t even gather the courage to take fees and as a result they ran away. I guess 90% of my teachers will remember me even today for creating havoc in their teaching career. Passing class 1 was definitely not a cakewalk especially when you have so much pressure of learning those 26 deadly letters who teased you with similar looks. Almost every kid hated maths and I was no exception. The worst part was that I was shifted to one of the best missionary schools . It was worst because my sister was in the same school. It looked as though my parents hired a customised complain box to keep a check on my little footsteps. Everytime the sensex of my marks dropped down my sister was called for an expert opinion. After coming home my sister used to spill the beans of my performance. For me cheating also remained a tough task being a girl with large sized eyes. Class II taught me word problems which were more problems than words itself. Being a playful child my teachers had a lot of adjectives to be written in my report card. I was always found looking outside the window. In this class I invented a “KEEDA BOX” or an INSECT BOX which helped me get out of my maths trauma. I used to collect tiny safe looking insects before my exams and put them inside my eyes to escape from the exam. Later my sister found out and unfortunately the box had to be surrendered. I never stopped trying and the insects were then replaced by surf, Chat masala and lens cleaning liquid. I am sure I will have a tough time even today after my mom reads all this. I still remember my inefficiency in tying my shoe laces and buttoning my shirt. I was so fond of lighting matchsticks that once I melted my dustbin by throwing random burnt papers with so called HOMESAFE matchsticks. I used to remember throwing away my father’s shoes from my school bus just to take out my grudge against being scolded. I also recollect my memory of falling in a fountain of the very famous Pinjore Garden. I used to play around till the results were not out because after that I had to bring my fake crocodile’s tears. I used to chit chat and tell all kinds of fake stories to my tution teachers that I was made to work as a part time servant who washed clothes and did other household chores. This excuse of mine was a superhit formula to escape from homework.