This year it was different.

Two nights before Diwali, I noticed a red rash on my leg and I went on showing my mum. I ended up getting the mundane lecture on how my room was messy (It’s not that bad, really) enough to accommodate a few rare species of insects which would be responsible for my rash. As usual, I turned a deaf ear to it. Next day, the rash turns into an ugly boil, I had a splitting headache and shockingly, I saw some newly forming boils which scared the devil out of me.

If you hadn’t guessed by now, I was declared to have Chicken Pox. My worst fears. So I was put in a bed of neem leaves. My brother was unusually sweet enough to get me coconut water put in jar with a fancy straw trying to cheer me up(He’s dead sweet, isn’t he?). 

And finally it was Diwali. This was not how I imagined celebrating it. I wearily wished some friends but did not notify them of my state and wandered into deep thoughts. BOOM. My neighborhood kids bursting crackers. I don’t get the bomb anyway. I mean, Who you tryna impress? The ISIS? 

Sadly, small boils would pop up and I would swear at it mindlessly. By now, it was all over my body. I realized a small one on my lips. Damn, not the lips. Hell, even Kylie Jenner would be jealous of them(Haha!).  Lying in bed, I look at my slowly rotating fan when it’s a 100 degrees out. Hardly moving from my bed, I listened to some interesting techie family conversations like Who’s the father of computers? Babbage or Alan Turing? Well, my brother bravely fought for Alan Turing. He bluntly out of nowhere claimed his sudden love for Dan Brown and talked about how he’s intrigued by his marvelous collection (No, He has not read a single book). I wouldn’t be surprised if they announce their engagement any day now. I would ask for them to put the Adithya Channel(tamil version of comedy central) on TV, so I can hear the audio from my room.

 If poison were to make me any better, I’d gladly take it. I was so pissed off at all the doctors, scientists and researchers at that point of time(I cursed them so much!), because there has been no proper cure for chicken pox for the past 30 years?, except the traditional way of curing it. Sure it’s not cancer, but a little effort for chicken pox would not do harm! My normal diet comprised of 5 to 6 tender coconut water, curd rice and onions all three times a day ( I so hated it). Occasionally, oranges for dessert. I usually started my day with a fuzzy head and puking… air (Don’t ask. It hurt). My dad kept saying just one more day hang on. I wondered whether that one day would ever come. My folks would take shifts taking care of me. So much love.

Days passed by. I wake up with a light heart and no hope in life. This is the phase when depression hit me like a rock. I lost interest in everything. I hardly spoke. My parents were trying their best to cheer me up. My grandmother was claiming someone jinxed her grand-daughter. Mum wanted me to come out of  my room, watch TV and talk. I just ignored and sulked in misery. My dad came in and gave me my diary to atleast write something. I randomly scribbled a few words on it. To summarize,by the end of 2 weeks, I was left with: 

From 1 week then on, I regained a part of my strength and waited for the scars to vanish. I became invincible. Meaning, my brother was ordered not to touch me for a few days so he’d pave way for me like how the minsters do for the King(It was so funny). Proud moment to be cherished forever. 

Here a picture of how pathetic my bed looked. 

P.S. A month ago, I was searching for a topic to write on my blog. And this tragedy just happens. They say God works in mysterious ways, but this one was too much to handle.