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What embarrassment looks like.

So I was this supposedly cool and definitely naïve pre-teen, and I had just heard of something called "electronic mail".
I saw my daddy turn on the computer and check some fifteen hundred random people contacting him on this ugly layout which was called the inbox. And like a stupid daddy follower (I am the epitome of the observation method in psychology) I decided to create my own email ID.

So one day, when Dad was out, I quietly turned on the computer and connected the internet which I had so keenly and passively observed dad doing, without giving him the subtlest of a hint.

I used to sit on a mental high horse and considered myself very smart, the most intelligent preteen our dear planet has ever witnessed. And when Google asked for an email ID, it struck me: SMART PUCCHU! That is it. I am smart, and I love the lovely nickname my parents had given to me, bless them (sic).

And that is how smartpucchu@gmail.com was born.
Oh, how elated I was. Now even I could have important emails delivered to me in that weird inbox and flaunt this among my friends because hey, I have an official electronic mail ID!!
And soon everyone in my class started creating their own E-mail IDs, taking inspiration from mine I guess, because they started with cutiepie and Dollie and what not.
Well now, I have accepted that I am a stupid teenager in my latter teen years, and I regret every alphabet of my first email ID. If embarrassment had a face, it would definitely resemble my email ID.

Smart pucchu, I realised, is something worth dying for.

Black holes, emerge! Engulf me, s'il vous plaît!

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