Younger Saniya believed the chewing gum would stick to her intestines if she swallowed it by mistake. The surgeons would grab their sterilized tweezers, pry open her abdomen, and prize out the dried-up gum. For this reason, I avoided chewing gum at all costs.
And then I tried it.
The world broke into song; I was like Remy from Ratatouille, who sampled the cheese-grape combination for the first time. As in the movie, turquoise waves danced against the blurry backdrop while the camera zoomed into my taste test. It was just me, my newly discovered fascination with mints, and nothing else. And so it began – the hunting, gathering, and scavenging – after a childhood of deprivation.
I am an avid mint fanatic, a determined chewing gum collector, and the number 1 promoter of Trident. Mints are the ultimate Saniya trademark, the stamp on my passport. It is a deep-thought stimulant and a breath of fresh air. I carry my stash of more than 20 kinds of mints with me at all times in a large cotton pouch. This stockpile is an eye-catcher and the quintessential enigma; why would anyone need so many mints?
A year into my foraging for mints, the motivation for continuing began to change. I had always needed a platter of food and litres of water to accompany my study sessions. The amount I could focus on preparing for my upcoming exam was directly proportional to the amount of food I had left to eat.
And then, I noticed something unusual.
My brain was operating at superhuman capacities when I was chewing a piece of Extra spearmint gum. Complicated derivatives and optimization equations fell into place seconds after a whirl of minty freshness circled my mouth. The minty blizzard cut through any form of brain fog; my vision cleared; eight hours of sleep could never grant me the energy and laser-focus a pack of gum could. I had found a way to hack into my system – there was no more a need for a 4-course buffet to increase my ability to concentrate. Since this breakthrough, I’ve utilized my newfound knowledge to power up in moments of distress. Molecular biology and macroeconomics have nothing on me when my mint stash is flourishing.
Discovering this pattern led me to wonder how else I could infiltrate the network of neurons responsible for controlling my attention span. To summarise, while rap music pushes my brain speed to 3x, coffee, a close second, to 5x, mints prevail at the top of the brain stimulant pyramid with a 7x brain speed. When I’ve severely depleted my stash, and sneaking coffee and rap music into exam halls isn’t plausible, I’ve discovered other mechanisms to keep my mental gears turning. Twirling my curly hair around my fingers, tapping my nails against my palm, and fiddling with my jewellery are apt mint replacements to induce a phase of steely concentration.
Convinced of the superpower that subtle movement granted me, I made myself a fiddle-safe silver bracelet that never leaves my wrist. Today, I proudly declare I’ve tried and tested a range of mints and chewing gum that no amateur enthusiast could achieve. From the all-natural “Gud Gum” to the most desi chewing gum brands from street shops in India, I’ve experimented with myriad flavour profiles and brands to find the most effective ones. If you find yourself in need of suggestions, trust me to be armed with a list of my top-ranked products to fit your needs.
Ultimately, this essay is just a thank-you letter to Mints for pushing me to discover my kinesthetic learning style.
By the way, would you like a mint?