You guys know CLARE! She's the one who's always referred to in all caps followed by an exclamation point on this blog. She's always hanging out over here when she should be working (and that's how it should be, CLARE! You make me proud). She first commented on this blog almost exactly a year ago, to show her support for me when I was being attacked by my own family. She came out of nowhere like a guardian angel and the best part is, she stuck around. Later, I learned that we both went to the same college and got the same degree and missed out on being in the same batch by just a year or two. We probably crossed paths a couple of times in those corridors without ever realising that some day, we'd be friends.
Recently, we got talking in the comments section of the post about all the times I almost killed myself as a child and something about flinging eggs at nuns in my college hostel came up. I'm gonna paste her comment here and leave the rest to your imagination.
In fact, I'm going to leave a lot of things to your imagination today because I quite admire the legends and the added colour with every recounting of the tale.
This one is going to be told in third person like a fictional story because obviously, this has nothing to do with me.
Once upon a time in a college hostel far far away, they lived a very tall, muscular and well built girl. She was the kind that could take anyone down in a fight. Her name was Notme Tolkita. She roamed the halls at night like a gun-slinger, for what she desired the most was revenge. In her room, hung a dartboard with the face of a nun plastered right in the centre. This nun was none other than the hostel warden.
Her gripe with the nun started when she was made to ask for permission before leaving the campus premises to collect new clothes from the tailor. No, it started when the nun refused her permission to collect new clothes from the tailor. Actually, it may have been when the nun suggested that she was not indeed going out to collect new clothes from the tailor, but to meet someone "special".
"I never see you in any of these new clothes. From now on, every time you get a new dress, you need to come and show it to me.", said the nun.
"WTF?", thought Notme.
One evening, when Notme was in the shower, she noticed that there were little squiggly worms floating around in her bucket of water. Disgusted, she and her friends reported this to the nun. "You must have been imagining things", was all they got in response. So the next time it happened, they collected these tiny live creatures in plastic bottles and marched over to the nun with proof. Clearly, the well that supplied water to the hostel needed a thorough cleaning. What they expected was an apology and a promise to rectify the situation. What they didn't expect was that the nun would shrug her shoulders, snatch the bottle from their hands, empty its live contents into a flower pot and ask them, "Have you never bathed in a pond before? There are worms and other creatures in ponds too so there's no need for all this fuss".
"First of all, I have never bathed in a pond and secondly, no one pays money to bathe in ponds. We pay you actual money every month for these amenities", reasoned Notme.
But of course, who has time for reason?
That evening, during the compuslory prayer meeting near the kitchen, Notme noticed a crate of eggs sitting next to a window. She sneaked out without anyone noticing (God knows how she managed that because she was so tall and huge), and stole three eggs from the window. She kept them in her pyjama pockets throughout the prayer and went up to her room, making sure that no one came even a foot close to her. She fished out a plastic box and placed her precious eggs in it, and then shoved the box to the topmost open shelf in the room, promising herself that she'd use them the next time shit went down.
The eggs sat there at temperatures as high at 32 degrees (C) for three whole months. Every time something even mildly annoying happened, Notme would cast a longing look at her box full of eggs. Something told her that the right opportunity would come. And it did, after three months.
A girl in the hostel fell terribly sick and she was in no condition to climb down the stairs to have her dinner. Her friends took permission to carry her dinner comprising of rice and vegetables upstairs to her room. Thankfully, this sick girl didn't immediately consume what was brought to her on a plate. For some reason, she first ran her fingers through her rice and the second the top layer of the rice was disturbed, she noticed a dead worm nestled in her rice. It was the same kind that Notme and her friends had collected in plastic bottles before. The sick girl's friends marched up to the nun, demanding an explanation. What they expected was an apology and a promise to rectify the situation. What they didn't expect was that the blame would be laid on them.
"How can you be sure that the worm came from the kitchen? Did you cover the rice while carrying the plate to your friend? Thought so. Don't you know that you should always cover food with another plate while you're carrying it to someone? It's this kind of carelessness that leads to these kind of mistakes."
Because of course, it was raining worms HALLELUJAH!
Notme knew what she had to do. The next evening, all the girls from the hostel were marched up to the neighbouring college to listen to a speech by the movie star Mammootty. While the handsome man in the yellow shirt gave his speech, Notme kept thinking about how ideal the situation was.
Once everyone got back later that evening, no one was in the mood to roam the halls or even interact with one another. Everyone just retired to their own rooms and rested after a long day. So Notme pulled out her box of eggs, snuck out of her room without anyone noticing (God knows how she managed that because she was tall and huge), and waited by the stairs. She was waiting for movement. She wanted the nun to be at the bottom of the stairs when the eggs landed. She didn't necessarily need the eggs to land on the nun. She just wanted to scare her and stink up the place. You know, like a gesture of goodwill to let her know that people had had enough of the worm nonsense. As soon as she heard the enemy approaching, she deployed the weapon(s). They landed one after the other and exploded with white milky substance all over the floors. And then, she ran. She ran like never before in her life. She ran like she was being chased by a pack of wolves. And once she reached her room, she couldn't get in because her roommate who was actually in on the plan had absent-mindedly bolted the door from within. I mean, C'MON!
But no one saw anything, no one had any proof, and it was the perfect crime. People were questioned, people speculated, some even ratted Notme out. But where was the proof? When Notme was questioned again and again (once even in front of her mother because "A Mother is God's first truth"), she repeated the same questions that she had been asked before.
"Where's the proof?"
"How can you be so sure that the egg didn't come from heaven?"
"Why didn't you cover the sky to prevent this from happening?"
"Have you never bathed in a pond before?"
They got nothing on her.
Finally, the nun took Notme's roommate to a side and told her that the hostel was currently home to the Spawn of Satan and that she needed this roommate's help in prayer, to rid the Holy Worm-Infested Host-Hell of the DevilSpawn. While the pair of them were sitting in a famous church, praying for a cure for
Worm Devil Infestation, Notme was in a meeting with another hostel warden, getting herself a new place to stay. At the end of the day, the prayer was answered and Notme left the place with a legend that is retold till date.
Moral of the story: Pray and you shall recieve.
Disclaimer: Any resemblance to persons living or dead should be plainly apparent to them and those who know them. All events described herein actually happened, though on occasion the author has taken certain, very small, liberties with height and size, because she sometimes fullfills her fantasies of seeing the world from above her height of 5 feet through her writing.
(Disclaimer inspiration: A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius)