I still remember that April in 2000. So much chaos, so much buzz around the new lil sibling I was going to have.
Back then I don’t really know how I actually felt, because hey, I was only 5 years old, in my defense. All that kept me excited was, the toys that dad got me everyday , on our way to the hospital.
12th April 2000 – *Woot Woot* Out came the lil bundle of joy. A cute lil baby girl.
I clearly remember all that happened in the initial few months. She was this fat little pumpkin. A really adorable pumpkin. The first baby I had seen growing up, from like day 1. I used to love taking care of her, apparently.
Would not let anybody else do it. Hey, I used to beam in pride everytime I changed her diapers. (The biggest achievement, back then). I used to do that whenever I was around.
I remember how, everyday after school when I got down the bus infront of our house, she would be there. Sitting , and later, standing near the door, holding on to the gate, grinning with like two or four teeth.
I used to be a proud sister, with all the bus mates peeping out of the windows to look at her. I would just fling my bag and jump down with my head up high, grinning on the inside.
She was this little Teddy Bear. A live one. Bundle of joy.
Few months passed, and then the drama begun. Like in every other house. The “Please look at me. Keep looking only at me. Throw away that lil pest. I am your only child” kinda drama. Ofcourse I would not dare to say such things out loud. But hey, I did not like sharing the attention with her.
Our parents still keep telling me how I used to gain attention. They rub it on me, everytime they get reminded of it.
I used to run unnecessarily and fall down on purpose , infront of them, they say. (Embarrassing, I know). I would laugh loudly and keep looking at them, waiting to see if they would look at me, they say. (Little did I know that I was not being very subtle with my attention seeking).
I used to get really really jealous of her. Would try to compete with her, like a moron, not realising I was elder and she was only copying me, doing what I was doing. It took me one of those ‘an hour long’ lectures from mother to get some sense into my head .
It all seems hilarious now.
So, yes, that’s how it all began.
Life with her.
I have had my share of bossing around the house. Bring me water. Turn off the fan. Give me the remote. Don’t open the freezer (Because it required technical knowledge. Come on!). I would fight with her. Yell at her when we had arguments.
I still remeber this one time we were fighting and she was in class 3 probably. She said ‘blood..’ and left it unfinished. She was only going to say bloody. Her face froze. That was the first time she had ‘almost’ used that word.
I saw my chance and took it. I told her I would tell mum. She freaked out and cried and begged me not to tell mum.
Back then, mum was not for ‘cursing’. (Not that she’s okay with it now, but she sure does know how much good ‘cursing and venting’ does, to your mind in today’s world. )
For almost a year I would blackmail her and get all my things done. Until one day, I went ahead and told mom and she did not react at all.(Because it was a year ago). Disappointment . That was it.
All my beautiful days flew.
She grew up. She would disobey. ‘Bring me water’ “NO”. ‘ give me the remote ‘. “WHY?”. ‘Turn off the fan’ “WHY CAN’T YOU?”She was growing up. So fast.She would argue. We would fight and in no time, it would all be calm.
We weren’t and aren’t , these ‘sweet little sisters’ with love overflowing ?24 hours a day. NO. As much as we fought, we had fun together. The kinda fun I have never had and will never have, with anybody else in my life.
I would fight, yes, but dare anybody harm her, they would have to face me! (Not very threatening, to hear it from a person who is barely 5 feet tall, I know. But yes, you’ll have to face me.)
All I want now, is for her to keep her shine on. For selfish reasons ’cause ,I know for a fact when everybody else is gone, she would still be there. And at that time, I wouldn’t want a boring, depressed person. I would want her stupid giggling face and dumb jokes. Why else would I waste my time writing about her.
Home to me, is where she is. This I realised when we went on a trip to Bangalore last week. There was food , there was fun. There was everything. But my human was missing.
When everybody else was busy talking, there I was , sitting and thinking of all the fun times we have had ( A bit of an overreaction that was, though. For it was just a two day trip.)
That was when I was thinking. Everybody who met us would say we are absolutely alike. And we would disagree.
Maybe they were right? We are almost alike maybe. Like 96%? ( the remaining 4% for she can dance, I can’t move a limb. She cooks, I eat. She lifts heavy objects, the SON in our house, and I cheer for her. Lizards don’t freak her out.She’s a little cooler than I am, a little. and this would be the first and last time I am stating this fact.)
Between breaking around 10 remotes, throwing water on each other’s face, fighting over clothes and shoes (My shoes become bigger when she wears them.) , complaining about the mean world, hogging together, cleaning up the mess together; rapping songs, talking about how I’d leave my kids at her house for baby-sitting, talking about how great an aunt she would be, saving each other from an angry mother;even adding fuel to the fire infront of an angry mother, gossiping about not-so-cool, yet mean people; opening up with the most astounding secrets, we grew up. Grew up to be closer.
How I wish I could jot down all the fun times we have had.
Someone I can count on, any day. What would I do without her.
Hey there, little sister. You will definitely be reading this anyway ( I am going to shove the phone into your face after I am done blogging). I have my friends yes, but you will have your own little place in my heart.(Ugh!).
I want you to know I will be there for you all the time , because you have made life so much better (Or because you cook real good food). Either ways, I am here, your elder sister, year-wise atleast. :’)
Below is the picture of the little pumpkin I was talking about. (And don’t freak out, it is only paint on her forehead, in the photograph)