Dragon Booster to Condom Queries — Unforgettable & Funny Moments of Life

Imaginary creatures and real-life experiments

When I was in the 4th grade, there was a show telecasted on television called The Dragon Booster.

I loved watching the show. In the story, there’s a dragon named Beau. He is a descendant of the first Golden Dragon. Artha is the hero chosen by Beau, and he’s known as the Dragon Booster.

It appealed to me so much.

Maybe because I was a storyteller since I was 8 years old. Or maybe things changed when I was 10 and wrote my first story titled World of Dinosaur.

Or maybe it wasn’t just my childhood love for dinosaurs and dragons that hooked me on Dragon Booster, but Artha and Beau’s bond. That unwavering mutual support, felt like something I craved.

Beau, in particular, was my perfect imaginary friend — loyal, brave, and always there to have my back.

Wanting a dragon like him wasn’t just about fire and flying. It was about finding a partner in adventure, someone to face the world with, just like Artha had Beau.

I wanted to have a gold dragon desperately. My tiny brain could not differentiate between reality and imagination.

Inside my brain, I was an excellent scientist who could do anything he wanted. And my passion for mixing different liquids to make something else solidified my belief.

One day, I found the perfect candidate for my experiment, which was a stray dog, and somehow his stripes were exactly like Beau’s. So I decided to make a potion to transform this dog into the Gold dragon, and then I could set out to ride my newly made dragon as any self-respecting Dragon Booster would.

So, I began experimenting and started mixing whatever I came across. I mixed a few things in the water, boiled the liquid, added some more things, froze it, and then again boiled it, and this process went on for months.

Even though I hoped to turn that dog into a dragon, I couldn’t bring myself to feed it to the dog because I was afraid that it might kill him or make him very sick. So, to keep my fantasy world real, I kept adding more and more things to that potion.

It gave me an escape from reality, the trauma, and the stress around the house.

After a few months, the dog disappeared, and so did my dream of having a dragon. However, my love for science continued, and I kept experimenting and mixing things.

And if anyone asked me what I wanted to become between the ages of 7–12, my go-to answer was a scientist, because I knew I could not be Spiderman by that age.

When I was nearly 11 years old, a middle school kid, my obsession with science was evident. A bunch of kids used to call me “scientist” at school because they knew about my dog-to-dragon experiment and several other experiments as well.

My classmates made sure that every new science teacher knew about my nickname.

I used to ask a lot of questions in science class and my entire class cheered me up for it. It felt good.

So, there I was, a 7th-grade kid with glasses, not longer than 4 feet, ready to startle my science teacher every day at school with my deep, thought-provoking questions.

Science was the only subject where I didn’t recall ever getting into trouble. I liked asking questions in that class because it felt safe to do so.

Over the last few days, I kept hearing a famous Indian cricketer on television, encouraging people to use condoms. I wasn’t sure what it was all about.

One day, during my science class, I stood up and looked at our young science teacher, Meenakshi Ma’am, who was around 24–25 years old.

I asked her, “Ma’am, what is a condom?”

The entire class burst out in laughter. This time, instead of cheering me up, I sensed that maybe I had asked the wrong question and felt embarrassed. Meenakshi Ma’am didn’t say anything; she just smiled.

And I sat down.

I know I learned the basics of procreation, or how not to procreate, a lot later than others, but I have no regrets. Even though I was not exactly a nerdy kid who stayed in the good graces of the teachers, I wanted to avoid doing anything that caused me trouble.

I am glad I steered clear of my classmates, whose conversations involved bad language and insults toward each other’s mothers and sisters.

I always sat with friends who didn’t use bad words or say mean things. I even used to maintain a list of anyone who cursed in front of me to keep those troublemakers in line.

I told my whole class that if anyone used bad words in front of me, I would tell the principal. Some guys even begged me to strike off their names from the said list. People who used mean language were scared of me (something I thoroughly enjoyed).

Secretly, I also stayed away from all this because I wanted to be a good son, and I was afraid of what would happen at my house if they found out I did or said something wrong.

2–3 years ago, I met one of my classmates through a mutual friend. I hardly talked to him when we were in the same class as he was friends with the troublemakers.

I met him after 13 years, and the first thing he said was, “Hey, you’re the same guy who asked the science teacher about condoms.” Until then, I had somehow forgotten all about this incident.

We both kept laughing, cherishing our childhood memories and reliving the times lost.

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