Because people have their Itinerary List! Well, Mostly!

The Wild Ass: Let’s go fishing!

Little Wench: Or we could go do some sunbathing on the top of that rolling hill.? It would be fun!

The Wild Ass: !!! 

But it’s cloudy today! And it might rain anytime. How would you do sunbathing on that infamous slippery rolling hill, uh?

Little Wench: But it’s in my itinerary for the day!

Few arguments later, both of them happily went along to the rolling hill for their hide-n-seek sunbathing with the sun, while their fishing rods resting on the shoulders.

People have their itinerary lists. People have their ‘Mr. Perfect’ checklist. Heck, some mind-boggling people even have their ‘Things to be done before you’re 20/30/married/etc.’ They keep a copy of it in their closet, compare every potential partner they meet with their checklist and celebrate their every milestone in the ‘to-accomplish’ list. After all, more than the gratification or anything else, it’s the acute sense of time and space it gives you that makes it so prized a thing!

  

Sadly, the Little Wench lags pretty far behind when it comes to having a sense of time and space. Not that she’s any good in having an itinerary/to-do list! Her sense of time and day is as bad as guys’ sense of colours! (Not trying to be a sexist here!). Thankfully, no one at the jungle is judgmental here and so, everyone lives happily with their antics.

Like the Caramel fly who can’t walk one more step if even one strand of her hair is out of place….or the Dragon Chipkali who just can’t stop making those rather curious sounds when eating a dessert…or the Greek rabbit who gets instant blush from ear to ear that could put all the girls to shame!

Nevermind, here it’s not about the (lack of) sense of time and space! Coming back to the itinerary list, the Wench is finally picking up and learning to make her itinerary list. Although she does tend to get quite finicky about it at times..like the last time she chopped her hair by herself because it was in her itinerary to get her hair to pixie cut by her birthday and the jungle salon was a little too far for the rainy day (The jungle has pretty weird history for birthdays)!

Anyway, here is the latest addition to the itinerary list-

“This is how a part of my dream house would look like! I am yet to entertain a dream job/wedding/spouse idea, but swear on Frankenstein and his endless tragic rage, this is going to be a part of my house! Just. How. Self-Explanatory.”

And the latest one, which happened during the recent eloping stunt Wench performed:

“Have to do this, once! And before you ask me, not the drying clothes part but the 'travelling-on-the-top-of-bus' part.”

p.s: Images sneaked from the Wench’s diary while she was busy sulking and flying with the butterflies to find her lost lip balm! NiveaBlue (colourless, thick and hydrating one). Must have dropped it in the waterfall while trekking! :|

 

‘GROWN UP’ OR NOT: WHY GROW UP???

Lying in her bed, random at her best, the wench is trying to come up with something significant for the day (Oh, did I forget to tell you the wench has renounced her ever-busy post as the Communication Manager for the Jungle?). As colors come to butterfly, the urge to dream comes to the wench and she gets her magic pencil and fatso register (being the technology-repellant that she is) and gets on to write the latest story just when the Dragon Chipkali rushes in!

Her puffy eyes and drained face spells trouble, or rather an epic tragedy so to say. Now, it’s of no surprise to anyone how finicky Dragon Chipkali is about her nails (more on her broken nail story later!), but I don’t see a single chipped nail- there they were, beautifully painted with vibrant colors and a pretty picture as always.

No, that's not how she looks! Well, not exactly!

“Maggie,” she painfully starts (That’s what she likes to call the Wench), and with every time she repeats the name, the distress in her voice is turning into sobs- getting louder with every “Maggie”. Turn the pages two days back and you couldn’t have found a person more mature and rational as her across the jungle or city; for that matter- even the likes of Contemplative Duck or my loving friend, the Psycho Bard.

She hugged the wench tightly and then of course, the story revealed itself accompanied with violent cries to the amusement of everyone. (I know three paras down the line, you’re still confused what’s the connection with the title. Well, patience, my friend!)

Ten minutes down the line, a huge grin occupies Wench’s face as Dragon Chipkali finishes her story. What charms her the most is the stark comparison produced between her usual mature self and this seeking-for-attention, and yet adorable baby!

But on a second thought, is it not with all of us? We all claim of being ‘grown-up’ as we all call it and breathe, live, react in a particular pattern that screams the ‘grown-up’ tag. And let’s accept it, we all love to flaunt it!

Right from particular preferences in the kind of things you say to the way you react (even the not-so-pleasant ones), ‘mature’ (or acceptable, should I say?) remains the key.

But isn’t it that deep down, each one of us is actually a baby out there- an adorable but unreasonably demanding baby who refuses to give up to logic and all those ‘codes’ that act as your maturity-meter? That baby who is waiting to be soothed, pampered and taken care of. It craves to be heard no matter how trivial the topic maybe, for it concerns him nonetheless.

But the baby is afraid of most of the people he knows and lives with, some of whom even happen to be an integral part of their life. And that baby doesn’t come out in front of anyone but only to whom he’s intimate with, he can freely exist with. 

Feel free to let that baby be himself. ‘Grown-up’, unlike a tag as perceived presently, is more of a state of mind, a continuous process that continues till your life does.

MEANWHILE, here goes Dragon Chipkali’s story that started this whole blog in the first place… J

While coming back from the South West part of the forest from her work (She runs her super-famous bakery there, ever been there?) last night, in a hurry as always, she took a fatfat (shared auto for ignorants) to home.

Two stops later, a grumpy, fat fellow squeezes in the seat next to her- much to her irritation. In addition to that, his continuous humming of heavenly Himesh Reshammiya’s songs while impartially distributing his time between chewing gums and scratching his partly bald head- taking her to a different level of serenity.

True to her nature, she elbowed him (Ouchh!) while pretending to be innocent (she’s pretty good at that!). The fatso did get miffed but said nothing.

On her way back, however, she figured however the tragic deed that had happened only when her siblings couldn’t stop their laughter on seeing her.

The fatso, intentionally or maybe with all the innocence possible, gave Dragon Chipkali a small parting gift- the gum he was so dedicatedly chewing all the way, nicely glued to her side parting of her long, thick mane. And the inevitable result, chopping off the glued portion, of course, could not get the better of her.

Tragedy, it was. R.I.P that side lock; that once belonged to her beautiful mane! 

P.S: (No, seriously!)