In those days they used to call me Nasseekarana kappal (Destroyer). With the role of Destroyer class of ships in the World War II fresh in their mind, they might have found a close similarity in me. What ever it be, my ability to spoil any thing that came to my hand was well acknowledged by all in my family.
Along with the fragile things that came to my hand, came the idea to destroy it, disguised as fun games. The bottles were my frequent victims. My cry Enna Kuppi thazhe poye (oil bottle fell down) was so disturbing that my elder sister remembers it even to day. To me all bottles were oil bottles irrespective of their contents whether it be ink or kerosene. You can imagine how damaging it could be.
Our house on a small mount by the road, had a flight of steps and broad parapet like walls on either side in place of hand rail. It was a perfect substitute for the slides we have in parks for children, but for its rough top. My brother who is only two years elder, and me used to make good use of it till it tore our shorts in to strands and burned our butts. So we were normally alloted only old shorts when we were at play.
One day my brother and me were competing in sliding down the slanting walls on either side of the steps. The rough surface soon started telling it tore my shorts and burned my buts while my brother continued. I ran in and came back in new shorts. The one I got when my brother got some six for joining school.
I kept it back when we were inside.
Once in a while we, the entire family used to go to Munnar where my uncle lived. It was then we went to cinema. That week end was such a day. In the afternoon every body got dressed for the occasion, and the condition of my new shorts came to light. To my dismay there were no other clean ones. My mother was counting on dressing me up in the new shorts for the movie.
I was in tears no one was in favor of taking me to Munnar in the torn shorts. I begged my brother, but he was not relenting.
At last I surrendered all my nick names for his free use and borrowed one of his shorts - large almost like a middy skirt. I could hardly stand his sneering look. But there was no other choice.
In movie MGR danced in a shining Black skirt, while his heroine drove the bullock cart singing, but it offered little comfort to me. My beautiful cousin, who was a college student in those days, seeing my gloomy face held my hand while we walked back home. Even that was not much of a consolation to me, I wept silently till I slept.
But the days that followed were still worse. My brother made best use of his right to use my nick names. Which were otherwise prohibited because of the the distress they caused to me. Many had stories attached to it, which were down right hurting me.
That made me hunt for ways to save the bottles and many other things that came to my hands and Ways to preserve them. Slowly I lost the name destroyer. surely a new one came in its place. I will tell you later about it.
I mean the ones u surrendered :)