Sunday, October 08, 2006

Boy of Anger

I had yet another of my famous fits of rage yesterday. Chosen victim of attack: my brother. The victims are more often than not either (or more than one) of my brother, mom or dad. They get to see a lot of Angry-Me, unfortunately. On the brighter side, now that I don't live at home anymore, they get to see Angry-Me only on the weekends at most. I ain't at home during the week to verify but I'm still willing to bet that the decibel levels at home have gone down since I moved out. I sympathize with them because they've had to bear the brunt of my directionless rage for no particular reason at times. From my wannabe-rebel (definitely without a cause) to depression, theyve heard me shouting through it all. It's a wonder they aren't deaf yet. It's a greater wonder I wasn't been disowned years ago. Seriously, it is tough living with me.
I've always had a major anger hanger on me ever since I've consciously remembered time. It's been a family trait in some ways. If it wasn't, I've made it one. I remember, as a kid, trying to find innovative ways of winning slanging matches with the elders in the house. One fine day, I saw moviefolk on tv expressing their anger by smashing crockery (which always seemed to be conviniently at hand whenever they got angry) with a cry of anguish and a touch of hamming + overacting. I was fascinated by that because after that scene, the plate-smashing dude would generally end up having his way in the movie. Inspired and charged up, I decided to implement this form of protest during my next tantrum. The next time I got angry I armed myself with a steel plate at hand. Little miracle that I should heed the little voice of reason that throwing a steel plate to the ground might be a safer option as compared to subjecting glass or china to the same treatment. Right in the middle (it actually turned out to be the end) of my tantrum show, I sent the steel plate clanging to the floor with all the intensity my little hands could muster and with all the ferocity my face could portray. It was a random moment during the spanking that followed when I realized that not all stunts on reel are as efficient in real.
Through the years that followed, my expressions of rage took new forms. From manipulation to cheekiness to bitterness to momentary vents, all were tried and put to use. It's not something I am particularly proud of, and I would certainly prefer to have stronger reins on my temper. And athough the hot-headedness has certainly reduced in the last two years, thanks to some stability kicking in, it does hit a vein when I think about the hard times I've put my own people through during my rage rides.
To each one of them (if they ever read this) - You'd better forgive me or else... grrrr...

3 comments :

mairaj zindran said...

Ashraaaaay... Wot eeeeejjjj theeees :)

yash said...

This cant be u..its a fake story

The Neverknown said...

@yash: nahi be.. sach hai :)

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