It was a perplexing experience that Justin started undergoing from his adolescent years. The bulge now was a permanent fixture, and he could not ever figure out how to wriggle out of that situation. The boys of his age group were still not allowed to wear long pants, white shorts were the permitted outfit in the school with tucked-in half-sleeve shirt, a belt with green and yellow stripes and a matching tie.
The sixties in India were quite an orthodox time. Justin’s parents never contemplated having a discussion on sex education neither with him nor with his younger sister. One had to gather—or stumble upon—the information by oneself. Imagine no books on the subject of sex education, no internet, and no computer. Compared to the 21st century, those were like medieval times.
Unfortunately, to counter his battle of the bulge and to take charge of the unruly head so that it be kept under submission, there were no Jockeys or Hanes tailor-made underpants available at that point in time. The underpants worn were hand-stitched by moms at home. It crossed Justin’s mind several times to use a bandage and tie the barging pole to the more ‘acceptable’ muscle of the lower part of the body: the upper thigh. However, some sane thought never let him take that action, and today, he shudders to imagine the consequences of his adolescent mind’s ‘remedy’ to the problem.
Ultimately, Justin grew out of the ignorance, and while stepping into the teen years, he researched extensively on the subject and earned a self-proclaimed doctorate in it before he exited that phase of life. His research brought to his understanding the fact that, in the remotest likelihood of a pole vault event taking place, his own equipment or ‘the pole’ could be used, but unlike the regular bamboo pole—which is discarded at the height of the obstacle—this ‘pole’ needed to be carried along after the hurdle was crossed—obvious! By his mid-teens, Mama’s home-stitched under pants were out and some V-shaped, elasticised cotton underpants, which could be bought in the market, were available to deal with the ever-bulging situation. The other self-made remedial measure was to carry a book, which could be held in front and over the troublesome area that would otherwise attract a range of disapproving to disgusting looks from the elders, disdain from boys, and spasmodic laughter from girls in the school. Holding the book in front would totally change the equation by giving the impression of a very likable, decent, and a studious young man with a somewhat humble and confused expression.
The X-chromosome was a better species wherein, after a while, they would come to terms with their protruding assets. Remember, in those days, the salwar suit for girls always had a third piece called chunni (stole), which—if thrown over the shoulders—afforded a decent covering. How Justin wished the Bollywood superstars of those eras, Rajesh Khanna or Baba Jitender, had started such a trend for men where boys could carry a stole, which, in times of need, could be used to cloak their wares. Well! It was not to be so.