"Penciling" it out

When I “upgraded” from pencils to pens in school, I couldn't be happier; infact, I felt a strange sense of deliverance.

After all, the sound of a pencil on paper is as disgusting to me as a person sucking snot out of his nose into his mouth may be for you.

While a lot of my classmates in school and college flinched when the teacher’s chalk, in a hasty spell of writing, produced a screeching sound where it met the blackboard, I was the only “whacko” who would cringe every time someone would hastily jot down something with a pencil.

It became worse in college, when my roommate (now my best friend), would study with me for the approaching exams. While m textbooks and notes looked like a rainbow, thanks to the multi-highlighter approach I was partial to, she would proceed with her studying by underlining (and boy! Could she underline) the text, much to my obvious vexation.

One look at my perfectly arched disapproving eyebrow, and she would promise not to use the displeasing pencil.

However, ever so softly, within minutes, she would be willfully underlining with the offensive pencil again.

Despite the next to no sound, my keen sense of sound would be in force, and after five seconds or so of keeping my ears pricked like a vigilant cocker-spaniel, I would spring up from the chair or bed, as the case may be, cast a look of pure venom at my now apologetic friend, and fling myself on either the courtyard bench or the corridor stairs, a decidedly scowling look evident on my face.

What else could you expect from someone, who, right in the middle of an entire year of debating, writing, sports, quizzing, and retail-therapy, was rudely awakened by the call of the annual monster – the examinations? And who, while in the midst of a chaotic time of notes-borrowing, cramming, studying with one sleepy and one half-awake eye, on a tummy which craved outside food, but which had to contend with hostel-food for the time-being, had to also cope with dreadful pencil-underlining sounds.

The scene was no better in the college common-room, where students from all three years, probably vied with unsaid competitions of who-will-underline-the-most-and-drive-Vandana-hopping-crazy, leaving me very very hot and bothered.
Till now, when someone picks up a pencil, I look alarmingly at the person, a look of don’t-tell-me-you-are-going-to-use-that-thing-are-you? on my very expressive face.

It is easy if the person is known and if I have a comfort level with him / her, because then I can playfully a) pass a pen into his / her hands (like when I do to TOOMA when he is penciling a writing task) or b) in the eventuality of no pen in hand, plead with him / her not to make use of the odious writing instrument, citing the virtues of oral communication or honing a razor-sharp memory instead.

However, the trouble arises if the person is not too well-known to me, or worse, if I, for obvious reasons, cannot risk myself be termed a weirdo by confiding about my unease at hearing a pencil sound. I have known people who, after hearing about my idiosyncrasy, have a look of disbelief and / or pity at my plight plainly plastered on their sometimes smug faces.

Needless to say, they don’t do wonders for me.

At all such times, I just squirm in my place, waiting for the abominable sound to stop.

Sighing with relief when the monstrous pencil is put down….

This is probably me at her quirky best!