Hopeless at delta t

Fifteen minutes have passed, but the end is not in sight. I step back from my cubicle steadying myself against the wall, clutching a piece of tissue paper. The ticklish sensation under my nose was now rising into a watery commotion. I shiver slightly and close my eyes while trying to breathe at the same time. I quite know what to expect still I wait rather edgily, trying to cut off all the last-minute distractions. A couple of seconds more and there it is.

Aaa … ahhh ... aaahhhh ... ahchoo!

A gust of steamy air travelling at almost 100 miles an hour explodes through my nose & my mouth leaving me high and dry.

‘Eleventh’, counts my colleague, almost falling off the chair, laughing, while I sniff & withdraw, bracing myself for the aftershock, rubbing my nostrils red. My nasal bone has already turned into jelly from these intermittent jolts. My eyes are watery and my mind is reeling under repetitive sneeze impact.

Many people say sneezing is just one of our body’s many natural defence mechanisms. But my machine seems to be on overdrive. It’s like an automatic machine gun let loose on unsuspecting colleagues & family members.

‘What happened?’ asks my colleague in between.

‘Well, I touched the water bottle.’ I begin to explain.

‘So?’ he looks at me disapprovingly.

‘It was colder than my body temperature’ I add impatiently.

‘That’s hardly cold’ he looks away.

‘Ok. Not cold. But it is cooler than my body, right?’ I plead as I can feel the next one coming.

‘So, you will sneeze at delta t?’ the look changing to utter disbelief.

Well, I … aa … ahhh ... … ahchoo! I stagger towards my desk to get another tissue paper; glad that I am still alive. ‘Not your fault. Till today even my mother refuses to believe this.’ It’s not even lunchtime and the dustbin is full. I wonder if I should call the housekeeping for a change.

Meanwhile, an autonomous movement has already begun inside my mouth in response to the tricky feeling in my upper jaw, just below my nose. I trace its whereabouts flexing my tongue in, hoping that its rough texture would help to ease the itch. Then as if on a cue, I fold my fingers into a fist, clamping it tightly by the thumb as if to stop them from fleeing. In yet another involuntary effort, my toes curl in, insinuating me to turn all my attention inwards.

All that was under my control was to turn away from those normal, non-allergic faces going about their routine work nonchalantly and … Aaa … ahhh ... aaahhhh ... ahchoo!

‘Thirteenth’, consoles my colleague, putting another glass of warm water by my side.