Off with her Wings! – Hilarious Short Story

I know of many who can fly. So do you.

There’s Hanuman. Son of Vayu. Lord of the Winds. Monkey God. Skipping across oceans, lakes and puddles like one cool dude. Setting fire to the entire city of Lanka while at it! Which is awesome considering men suck at multi-tasking. Although the sages cursed him for such being a brat which made him forget about his powers unless someone would tap him on the shoulder and say “hey man, why don’t you do that thing you did the last time?”

Then there is the old bird-plane routine. Superman might be the favorite butt of a million and one costume jokes, but he can fly up up and away!

Any self respecting South Park junkie will swear that besides the powers of prophecy, healing and resurrection, and proficient carpentry skills, Jesus possessed the ability to fly.

As did Neo.

Peter Pan.

Atom Ant.

Merry Poppins.

Lord Voldemort.

Oh, and pretty much the entire cast and crew of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.

And yet they all lacked the very basic apparatus. A simple, durable pair of, what else but, wings.

 

Which. I. Now. Possess.

(As did Icarus, but then I am not referring to the second rate wax and feathers quality.)

~~~

Do not mistake me for a hero, mythological, comic, celluloid or any other kind. Why, till this very morning, I was an average 25-year-old (getting well past the Great Indian Marriageable Age, according to Baba) but – and this is very important – most definitely wingless.

Today was a Very Big Day. Infact, as far as big days go, it was pretty much Godzilla. It was my extremely important, career-make-or-break meeting with THE client. The way the ogre… I mean Boss… was going on about it, you might have thought the entire country’s future depended on my presentation skills and slim shoulders.

So I surprised everyone, including myself, by walking in to work bang on time.

And where does this dedication and punctuality lead me? Straight to the dubious mirth and razor sharp tongue of Tanya. A viscous little cat out to get me. A woman who does not let a single opportunity to one-up me go by. Her commitment to my downfall and disgrace is complete and, at times, almost enviable.

“Wow, time is it? No traffic jams or run-ins with the mafia this morning?” she purrs as Boss walks by.

I take a deep breath and try to find my inner cool. Trust me, its nowhere as easy as that self-help book made it sound. “I am a calm and composed woman of the world” I say to myself. Deep Breath. “I realize retaliation only leads to encouragement.” Another Deep Breath. Grrrrrrrr. I manage to ignore her and snap open my laptop, in order to focus on the ‘making of my career’.

Frankly, careers are overrated. Done with college, I had foolishly assumed I was done with examinations. Cut to real life where every day IS an exam. Brainstorming sessions, presentations and the constant bitching and backstabbing! Sometimes I catch myself yearning for Calculus and the simple satisfaction that lies in writing “Hence Proved” at the end of a stupid math problem.

So there I was, hunched over my laptop, going over everything for probably the nine million, eight thousand and forty seventh time.

Well… almost. Ok. Confession time. The truth is that I am in the middle of a torrid, passionate, all-consuming, one-sided eye-contact affair with Cute Guy from Accounts. There, I said it.

Cute Guy! Really, I don’t know if I would ever bother turning up for work on any given day if not for him, and his deep delicious wanna-fall-in-them-and-drown chocolate brown eyes. I have been in love with him since, well, forever. Everyone knows. Except him. Realistically speaking, he probably wasn’t even aware of my existence until this day.

Tanya will disagree vehemently, but I swear Cute Boy had looked my way at least thrice already. And it was barely even noon! Under normal circumstances, this would have been the highlight of my entire week, year, lifetime! Unfortunately, the definition of normal was about to do a somersault and land on its chin.

~~~

The clock struck twelve. THE client would be here in 15. And that’s when it all started getting really strange.

My intense concentration was broken by a loud CRACK. I cast a suspicious glare at Tanya. Was she trying to sabotage my career and rapidly developing love life using the Power of Loud Noises?

Tanya glared right back at me. But almost immediately, her look changed to one of horror, her eyes and mouth open as round as Ma’s chapattis as she lifted a finger in slo-mo, pointed at me, screamed, and passed out!

“What the??” I jumped up and started shrieking too. MY BACK WAS ON FIRE!

I looked over my shoulder. No flames. No fire alarm going off either. Then why did it feel as if someone had rubbed a dozen bottles of Vicks Vaporub on my back, and thrown a bucketful of boiling water all over it?

As I was trying peering at them, my shoulder blades were extending outwards. And my skin was stretching like elastic, offering no resistance. It was as if an alien, having taken up temporary residence under my skin, had chosen this day to show itself.

Too many sci-fi movies can definitely harm you at some subconscious level. I promptly passed out.

~~~

I came to in the arms of the one and only Cute Boy. I did not question this state of affairs. Today was obviously a day of miracles; or this was a really strange yet lovely dream, and I was not about to wake up no matter how late for work I get.

There was so much drama in the air that I felt I would be letting Bollywood down if I didn’t ask the mandatory “Where am I?”

“Are you fine?” He spoke to me. He SPOKE to me. HE spoke to ME!

The horrible burning sensation was a thing of the past; I doubted it ever happened. Leaving aside a sudden craving for raspberry ice-cream, I felt great!

I seriously considered the possibility of a kiss. Think about it. I was in his arms. He MUST have given me the kiss of life. Maybe I should pass out again! I noticed Cute Boy was beginning to look increasingly troubled.

It was then that I felt them.

A pair of solid wings. Starting from where my shoulder blades used to be, extending outwards, the tips tapering almost to my knees.

Not too big, not too small. Just my size.

There. As if I was always meant to have them.

So there I was, with my new wings, the love of my life and possibly everyone in the building. I suspect even passerbys had dropped in for a dekko. There was some pointing and nudging, but mostly everyone was just staring. Thankfully THE clients seemed to be stuck in a traffic jam or had a run-in with the mafia. Phew!

A small, extremely round Buddha of a man parted the sea of gaping humans. “There there. You are fine! An ambulance is on its way, so are your parents. Yes.”

That’s Boss. Now don’t let the innocent look and disarming manner fool you. Under his endearing chubby exterior lies the heart of darkness. Trust me, this man is an ogre.

But right now, Boss looked strangely guilty, as if all this was his fault. Well, he HAD been pushing me way too hard lately. If someone were to blame for all this, it might as well be him, I reasoned!

After I had been gawked at for what seemed like an eternity, my parents arrived. Baba looked grim, almost as if he had been silently dreading this day since I was born.

“Let’s go home”, he commanded, pulling me to my feet, and out of Cute Boy’s grasp. Who, strangely enough, made no attempt to hold me back. Infact I had to ignore his obvious relief as my family formed a protective circle and led me out.

Ma looked pale and immediately tried to engulf me in a hug (her way of getting a grip on any problem involving me.) Bhai merely looked amused and immediately reached out to touch my wings. I slapped his hand away out of habit.

“But sir… please wait. An ambulance is on its way!” insisted Ogre.

Baba dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “She goes with me” he growled, following it up with a withering look that made me feel bad for Ogre. Almost.

~~~

Getting into the car and settling my wings in was a bit of a bother. The back seat had to be folded up to accommodate my newly acquired extensions. (Are wings limbs? I wished I had paid a little attention in biology, but it was never really my subject. Neither was chemistry. Or history. Actually, I don’t think I had a subject to call my own.)

Bhai squeezed in with me, with a “I want to sit next to the monster”. I stuck my tongue out at him, but hastily withdrew it as I spied Cute Boy peering into the car. Along with what was definitely half the city’s population. Ma turned around in her seat to try and unsuccessfully hold my wings out of sight of the junta as Baba jumpstarted the car.

The minute we were off, Bhai went berserk and started poking my wings. “Wow! Look at them! Can you feel them at all? Maybe this has something to do with full moons or tides? Maybe we can make money out of this. You know, sell you off to a circus or something. Freaks are cool! I always knew you were adopted. Do you suppose you can fly?” Most annoying, but he had a point.

“Can I fly?”

A gazillion thoughts whizzed about in my head. It was my turn to start blabbing my head off.

“Maybe I am a kink in the evolutionary cycle. Maybe I am the missing link. Maybe man is actually meant to fly, and I am the first! Maybe it is a special gift. Some sort of boon. Someone up there is mighty pleased with me!”

“Maybe I am turning into an angel.” (I quickly checked above my head for a halo) “Maybe a mutant bird had something to do with it. Maybe alien goo had fallen on me while I slept on my stomach.”

“Maybe it is the Beginning of The End of the Dark Era, and The Supreme Powers of Good had come together and ordained that I am The One who would bring Peace to the Land of the Faithful. I really should start working on a screen name for myself. Super girl and Wonder Woman are already taken, I think.”

I could have gone on, but Baba cut me short. He turned to Ma, using the indirect approach as usual. “Anu please get this miserable girl to shut up. I have changed my mind. We will go to the hospital. Let the doctors figure out how to get rid of them.”

Excuse me? Get rid of them? What was this? An appendix operation? These were my wings we were talking about. I could not even remember a time when I didn’t have them. Would my father happily have my toes lopped off as well, if people started at them hard enough? Did the man realize that they were driving around the future She Woman? (Won’t work. Don’t know how He-Man manages to sound so much cooler)

I suspected I knew what was behind Baba’s blind rejection of my wings. I was right.

“We have to get rid of them before her chances are ruined forever. Wings!” Baba grumbled.

There! Bane of my life. The Marriage-ability Quotient. Considering I was a 25-year-old winged maid, mine was pretty much nonexistent.

“I can’t believe you are thinking about marriage at this time, Baba” I shot back. “I mean we don’t even know what my wings are meant to do yet! Think about the possibilities. And do you think we can stop for ice cream somewhere?”

“Shut up. I am your father. Would I want any harm to come to you??” Silence for the rest of the journey, except for the (imagined) rustling of my wings.

~~~

The hospital was evidently expecting us. Infact they had all but rolled out a red carpet welcome. So much for Baba’s plans of keeping everything under wraps.

Here were two trigger happy photographers, jostling with each other for a better view. Ma continued her unsuccessful attempts at trying to hide my wings, or unfortunate appendages, as I am sure she was referring to them in her head. Baba hurried us on. Despite all this, years of mirror practice finally paid off and I managed to give the cameras my version of a sultry look.

Then chaos took over.

Everyone wanted to check me out. Wide eyed patients clamored over each other to get a better look. I was examined by 20 different types of doctors, all of whom went straight to the waiting presswallas. Baba hummed and hawed, but the soundbytes made it on air. The hospital was even planning to hold a press conference, but Baba threatened them with hell to pay if they “behaved in that depraved manner”.

A million tests followed. There were the usual suspects, the X-rays, the scans and the bone density tests. It all looked flinched from the set of a Spielberg film.

“Take the wretched things off now!” Baba screamed. He had reached the point of no return and was screaming at every harrowed looking doctor in sight. But matters were long out of his hands. I was public property now. A pack of nurses was stuck on me, tugging and pulling, dragging me this way and that and back again.

Everyone seemed to be driven by pure excitement, like action starved excavators gone mad after stumbling across a pharaoh’s treasure filled tomb. I was the designated bakra of the day, thrown into the midst of the hungry tigers. It was not clear if they found out anything at all, but it surely wasn’t for lack of trying. One thing was for sure. I still wanted that raspberry ice cream.

~~~

There was talk of keeping me under continued observation. Baba winced, “Do you people think she is some kind of freak show?”

Young sincere smart alec intern went “We are not sure at this point sir. But we assure you we will not rest till we find out!”

Exasperated, Baba screamed. “Off with her wings!” To the back of the intern, already on his way to give the world his expert opinion, on live TV.

They wanted to fly specialists in (apparently there are people in this world who have devoted their entire lives to figuring wings out). Or they could fly me abroad, they said. “I am not sure I can do that, I haven’t even tested my wings yet”, I objected. But no one was listening.

It was almost dawn when the last of the doctors left. After hours of non-stop examination, they all seemed to agree on one thing. My wings would be right where they left them. It was deemed safe to let me rest for a few hours.

~~~

Baba and Bhai were given the room next to mine. Ma spent a considerable amount of time fussing over the exact position of my wings as I lay down in bed. She had yet to realize that they seemed to have a mind of their own. I waited patiently till she gave up and dozed off.

I was finally alone. And buzzing.

I thought of Nemo.

~~~

Just last month, two ugly little fur balls were born on our terrace. From the start, it was clear that one of the baby pigeons had no intention of living up to flying traditions. Maybe he had a deformed wing. Bhai and I named him Nemo (after the famous set of pixels with a similar affliction). Despite his mother’s evident displeasure, Nemo spent his days lounging about, content to watch his sister work hard at flight training. Sister tried, failed, tried, failed yet again.

Our hero chilled.

Eventually, the sister flew away, leaving the mother with nothing to peck at except Nemo. Mom got to work, determined to get her obstinate offspring off the ground. In vain, or so it seemed. Throwing all caution to the winds, she even managed to push Nemo off the ledge. Even in the face of this third degree, the lazy bum lived up to his reputation, not batting a wing. She swooped down and caught him just in time.

A few days later, Nemo was gone. Bhai thinks an eagle might have something to do with it.

I am sure he finally got his act together, and flew away.

I quietly stepped out of bed and tiptoed my way out to the balcony. It was a clear night, that deliciously perfect time when summer sets and winter creeps its slow way in. The pale moon hung in the sky, looking like one of Ma’s round parathas, dripping with butter.

It was picture perfect. It was time to act. My heartbeat raced, I felt a heady rush.

I stepped on to the parapet, and looked down. We were on the third floor; it was quite a way up. Not that I was scared. I tried to move my new wings. They seemed tense, and ready. Like a brand new pair of Nikes waiting to be slipped into and taken for a run. Well, I shrugged. This can’t be very different.

I had no plans for after lift-off. Maybe I would go in search of that raspberry ice-cream after all.

I spread my wings, and stepped off the ledge.

__END__