The Pam-demonium
The Playboy magazine that evoked the curiosity within me.
Besides playing outdoor games with my friends, renting books was one of the fun things to do while growing up in Bangalore in the 90s. Raj’s Rent A Book was a quaint library on Wood Street. I would cycle to the library every fortnight to get my entertainment fix for the weekends. I’d usually select books from the comic and young adult sections — and sometimes peep over at the adult erotic section that would make me wonder what words like “libido”, “estrogen”, and “testosterone” meant. Those ten seconds of seeing beautiful, brazen and boffable women on the front covers of books and magazines made me very curious about the female sex. Eventually, a man or a woman would block my eyesight by settling at the “adults only” rack, and I would return to BAU: Books As Usual: Tinkle, Asterix and Obelix, Tintin, Untold Tales of Spiderman, Archie, The Famous Five, The Hardy Boys, Harry Potter and Calvin Hobbes.
But every time I went back to the library, I became more curious about Men Only, Mayfair, Men’s World, Playboy, Juggs — magazines that occupied the top-shelf space of the library. My raging hormones demanded to see what was inside these enticing books. I couldn’t concentrate on my studies and no longer aspired to be like Tintin. My mother could see my scores drop, and my class teacher, Mrs Judy, complained about my lack of focus in class. “I suggest he meets the school psychologist,” Mrs Judy said, writing down the phone number of Ms Meera on a sheet of paper. My mother phoned Ms Meera and booked an appointment with her for ten o’clock, Saturday morning. “Zakki, you have to express yourself to Ms Meera and tell her exactly about what’s going on in your mind,” my mother said. How could I tell Ms Meera that a woman with blonde hair, blue eyes and big tits was on my mind?
I stopped by the library after school on Friday. The librarian was busy stamping several books with return dates. It was the perfect moment to pick a book and steal glances through its content. I chose a copy of Playboy, and just as I was about to open it, Mrs Judy entered the library. “Ma’am, what are you doing here?” I asked, hiding the book behind my back. “I’m here to return the book I was reading to y’all in class,” she said, marching towards me. I could tell from her face that she knew I was up to some mischief. It was the same face she made when she caught boys talking or eating in the middle of a period. “It looks like you’re holding onto something dear behind your back,” she said, trying to peep and see what it was. I kept moving in circles, dodging her from every angle she came at me. “Show me your hands, or I’m going to take away ten stars from your name,” she said, threatening to minus points from the best student leaderboard.
I slowly brought my hands in front of her. Mrs Judy snatched Pamela Anderson away from me. She reported the incident to my mother, and there was total pandemonium in my house the entire day. The next day my mother narrated the story to Ms Meera, who nodded and made notes. “Children at this age are generally curious about their bodies and the bodies of those around them. It’s perfectly normal for your child to be curious about what was inside those magazines — it’s just a stage of growth and development,” Ms Meera said, explaining to my mother what normal sexual behaviours are for children of ages nine to twelve. I felt calmer knowing that my attraction to Pamela was not a grave sin that my mother and Mrs Judy made out to be. My curiosity about the top-shelf space of the library played a huge role in teaching me how important it is to seek professional help when the mind is in a state of “pam-demonium”. I had an encounter with Pamela Anderson a year later, where she was playing a lifeguard on Baywatch, running on the beach, saving people’s lives. It felt perfectly normal to feel the way I did when I saw her on television. Thank you, Raj’s Rent A Book, for keeping me curious always.
