Bloody Nose and a Fat Lip

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Last week I met an old friend after 12 years. We were in school together and often played cricket in his front lawn. We also tried out wrestling moves on each other. Stuff we learnt after watching WWE (It was WWF back then) on TV. I received him at the bus station and ran up to give him a nice tight bear hug. We shared a Pepsi... just like old times. We chatted for hours. Then suddenly, without warning he boxed my face... repayment for breaking his nose twelve years ago! I had forgotten all about it!

In fact I still can't recall how that transpired. Was it one of my vicious bowling deliveries or was it one of my many attempts at giving him a Tombstone Pile-driver that went awry. (I was a good six inches taller that he, back then.)

Anyway, so here I was... with a big fat purple lip... torn at the corner, blood dripping and all. I did what I thought was right and went ahead and applied Dettol on the wound. Yikes! Big mistake. I ended up burning delicate facial skin. So for two whole days cameramen refused to take close-ups of my face. "Madam aap crime reporter hain, lekin public aapko he criminal samjhega!" they explained.

Girls at work were quite helpful. "Try the new L'Oreal liquid foundation. It has an excellent concealer", they said. It worked while I had it on. But one can't wear make-up 24x7! The big purple swelling at the corner of my lip stubbornly refused to fade away. Plus it was practically impossible to smile or even eat!

I called up this friend and yelled at him. He, of course, had a completely different take. "Hey! At least you didn't require reconstructive surgery. Besides you should be grateful to me for making you look like Angelina Jolie for two whole days!"

Dejected I decided to approach the boys at work. I figured that since men get into such situations a lot more than women, maybe they would know how to get rid of the swelling. After all I had promised to visit mom over the weekend and I had long shed my Lara Croft/Beatrix Kiddo image in her eyes.

So I walked up to the only men in the office at that time. The Bureau Chief, a soft spoken assignment guy and a Business Correspondent. Never in their wildest dreams could they imagine a grey-eyed, blonde, court correspondent in a street fight. A bit taken aback, they decided to help me. "Ice pack", thundered the Bureau Chief. "Charmice cream" offered a rather amused assignment guy. Guess that was because I'm a girl. The bespectacled Business Correspondent offered to box the other side of my face in case the previous remedies did not work. Said that would bring about a sense of symmetry. Terrified I fled immediately. The Ice Pack and anti-septic cream seem to have worked. But this friend still refuses to acknowledge that I am a grown up and am a respectable (he is in splits) lady (he is rolling over laughing). "Kya ladkiyaon jaisi baat karti hai? Chal panja ladaate hain", he says. Never mind his biceps are the size of my waist. I suggest a round of scrabble instead, but he sighs, " Naa... usme koi action nahi hai. Plus you will beat me anyway."