That Classic Gift

So this blog goes to the person I met in a hospital on a fateful day of 1989. Since then, I have changed a lot. I still remember my Dad trying to inculcate in me some maturity and responsibilities that come accompanied with a big brother being born. Although words vague but went something like this "...son you are probably witnessing a turning point in your life, do take care of her... [ little did dad realize she would be the one instructing me and,.. in fact him too !!]" when suddenly interrupted by loud cries of what might become an inspiration, something which inspite of being 5 years younger that me, would always act otherwise.

Here I was, a 5 year old kid trying to make sense of what was happening around, who was just plain happy to have got a new toy so tiny and cute, that can cry, smile, irritate :) and make you imitate her by making strange faces.

I still remember the day, when while playing I said to her "if you dont do this then I am going to a ghost, who is going to eat me and then you are never going to see me again EVER" and then hid away. And what i witness is a cry, as loud as supersonic jet roaring few meters over your ears, "Bhaiyya sorry, please come back". That was probably my first conscious emotional feeling of "there is someone who does care about me". Ok, I have acted really cruel many a times and, if I look back, I have not been able to wear the shoes of a big bro very elegantly, but she nevertheless did provide me with all the thrills of having a younger sis and I have probably enjoyed every bit of it: from trying to inveigle her with tricks into handing her pocket money to me (yeah, i was greedy... in fact i still am!!) to praying to God for probably the first time ever when I saw a red liquid called blood oozing from my toy.

I still hate her for many things like a school crush i told her about, and as with all the kids who have an indigestion problem, she tells Mom. Imagine a girl in her Kindergarten telling her Mom that his bro in 5th standard has a crush in school. It might seem hilarious, but not back then. I was shattered, I cried like a baby (OK i was one!) whose only lollipop had been snatched, I wasn't that "good innocent kid" anymore to mom (although I later realized mom and dad were truly the coolest people one can come across).

I hate her for being two steps ahead of me - always. Like being a topper since her childhood to becoming a house captain to playing sports to being the favourite with the relatives for her "antakshari" skills. She does amaze me, confound me and at the same time amuse me and yes not to forget irritates me :-). This is probably the best gift mom and dad have ever given, and no thanks can ever be worthy enough for a toy so beautiful.