Place- Ansal Plaza, New Delhi

Occasion – ????? Just read on!!!!!

When a cute guy, escapes form his hostel and travels miles  to propose to his first ever girl friend…..you know that history is in the making !

Strange enough…that cold and foggy day of January as I was dressing up in a borrowed pink high neck sweater and light blue jeans, I had a feeling that it would go on to be a very special day…a day at which I shall forever look back and smile.

This was probably our third date ! I was scared as I could sense that he could pop the question any time. “What would I say if he proposed me?” “Oh God he is giving me those killer looks….he is serious man!” …all such thought clouds hovered around me as I sat about 3 feet away from him..in one of those benches in the lawn behind the Plaza. I kept dilly-dallying for quiet some time with stories of PG mates and college friends. He was a patient listener to all my jabering like always….but he kind of looked restless, tensed and worried and he kept changing his sitting position. He asked me to sit closer…and I blushed ! But to hide my amusement and bashfulness, I continued my non sense talk! And then for some time we both when quiet..Oh no when I went quiet….he said the 3 little magic words all of a sudden! Gosh ….I was red and confused how to react. Not that I didn’t like him…I did. Right from the very first time we met, he made me feel special and beautiful like no one else ever did. I had never known a guy so serious and committed right from the beginning. But never thought all this would happen so soon and to me. ‘Why me?”  I thought. “Whats in me? I’m just a plane jane with everything so ordinary.”  Some how I was low in confidence and said, “No”! it cant be. You don’t know me enough to love me.”  I told him every possible thing why this relationship will not work and how I didn’t believe in love marriages , quoting examples of couple who were not so happy even after being into love before their marriages. In a very filmi style I also told him what I thought of guys and how I believed that the ultimate aim of them was to use the girls for their pleasure. All this while, I continued my bakwaas…..he waited patiently.

Finally he began to speak….and he addressed all my issues one by one. He said he does not know why he loved me and it was just an inner calling..and  said that I’m the right girl for him.  He spoke all good things about love marriages and how I had seen just one perspective. He said that his mother knew about his interest in me since the day he first saw me in his colony some six months back. (My aunt stayed in his neighborhood in Tayo Colony in Jamshedpur and I had once gone visiting them some 6 months back !).  ”O Boy ! He is serious ”, I thought !

I had prepared gajar ka halwa…first time ever…for him offcourse and that said it all ! He knew I was liking him…and liking him a Lot !

All the day through I could feel his eyes on me….even when he was gone !

But hello ? Am I not suppose to do some drama and make his heart ache a little more …to pump up his passion That’s what I did ! Made him wait for three more days for the three golden words …till I could myself fake it no longer!

Its been eight years since then….

One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs,

or the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls.

Yet another masterpiece from Khaled Hosseini, A Thousand Splendid Sun, published in 2007, is a book that cannot be forgotten in a  lifetime !

Yes, may be with time, the names will fade and the events will turn blur in our memories, but the bruised face of Mariam or the fear struck eyes of Laila and their unending saga of struggle, perseverance, courage  and love will forever be alive in our hearts….Well atleast in mine!

The story begins in the Afghanistan of 1960s – the pre-Sovient era when the country was as picturesque as depicted in the works of many great poets and writers of the land. It spans a period of about 40 odd years, till the early 2000s when Afghanistan is nothing more than a shattered dream – a bleeding war zone, struggling to regain life after years of smoke, fire and bullets and now grasping for breath and fresh air.

It’s astonishing to think how Mr. Hosseini could recreate the same magic of his earlier bestseller, Kite Runner, one more time by talking about similar issues of political turmoil in Afghanistan and its impact in the lives of its people;  stories depicting similar emotions of separation, sacrifices, love and friendship, and not sounding repetitive at all. He successfully packed the same emotions and represented them in a new perspective ! If Kite Runner was about witnessing the war and facing its aftermath from a male perspective, this book is all about witnessing a similar tale through the eyes of a woman.

The story is inspiring and the characters well described. The heartless husband Rasheed is the villian. At one point, I hated Rasheed so much that I slept with hopes that in the following chapters I will soon find him dead, being blown away by some blast in the city.

The level of innocence and maturity as depicted in Laila’s daughter Aziza is marvelous. My heart goes out to her when she tries to hide from her mother the difficulties of life at the orphanage and pretends to be extra happy by talking about all vague things as she knows that her already troubled mother will be saddened and feel helpless for her. “Laila would notice the dirt under Aziza’s fingers, and Aziza would notice her noticing and burry her hands under her thighs.”

The relationship of the lead characters, Laila and Marim, is a culmination of all emotions that is possible between two women. If begins with indifference when Mariam watches young Laila grow in the neighborhood each passing day. Later it grows into empathy and care when Laila’s world is ruined in one rocket dropping. The empathy soon takes the shape of jealously and hatred when Mariam sees Laila snatching her husband and home. However they soon realise their similar woes and bond like never before. The friendship grows stronger than sisterhood and Mariam begins to protect Laila as her own daughter. Towards the end, Laila’s happiness is the ultimate aim of Mariam’s life for which she sacrifices her life wholeheartedly and in turn, for the first and the last time, gains the true significance of her pitiable and meaningless life.

Well, it’s just one point in the book that looked a little filmi and too dramatic to me. It is the part where Laila revisits Mariam’s kolba in Herat and imagines Mariam reading from the Koran. The whole description of “how the weeds begin to recede” and “the spider  webs magically unspin themselves. The bird ‘s nest self-disassembles , the twigs snapping loose one by one, flying out of the kolba end over end….,” although is so vivid that I almost felt as if I was watching a movie unfold, it was slightly overdone. Having said that, this book is undoubtedly a master piece and something that I am going to hand down as a family treasure to my next generation !! (whenever that happens! )

P.S : Thank you Smita for gifting this book.

Just the other day I felt Her care and concern. I was on a train journey from Nagpur to Jamshedpur last week. I boarded the train in the evening but didn’t get my dinner packed from the station, thinking that the caterers from the pantry will definitely come around to take the meal orders. My berth was cozy and I was dead tired as I had been travelling since early morning to reach Nagpur from Hyderabad. I slept off for so long that I didn’t realise when the guys came, took the orders from others and rushed away. I woke sometime around 8.30 pm and by then others were wrapping up their dinners. “Gosh,” I told my self  ”I missed my dinner”. That meant I had would be hungry for another nine hours or so !! Further, it being a night journey, there were practically no vendor in the stations that we crossed, sans chai and pani bottle walas and me being in 2nd AC meant further less intrusion by the local vendors.

I waited for sometime to catch hold of any vendor, meanwhile trying to read a book. After sometime I simply gorged on a couple of sandesh that I was carrying, brushed my teeth (that’s my ritual) and prepared to go back to sleep. Just then a fellow passenger called, “Excuse me, would you mind if I offer you something to eat.” A young Sardar, in his early twenties, was offering me a plateful of Raj Kachouris and Bhelpuris !!! “Mana from Heaven” I thought to myself, and was amazed at the timing. Well well, a stranger in the train offering food…generally rings an alarm in the head. My conscious, since childhood, was trained not to take food from strangers as it might be inflicted with God knows what….and consequences can be…all knows what! I debated in my mind….what to do…..can I refuse food, doubting his goodness, when my stomach is making all kinds of noises to tell me what ought be done ? The head said its a risk….but heart said “F*ck with all logic, go and grab it straight.” Oh yes…even in acute hunger, at half past 11 and with sleepy eyes…I din’t forget my manners.  I replied to the guy, “Thanks a lot but I already brushed my teeth”. “That’s Okay, you can brush again,” he said and went on to market his offering saying his cousin had come to meet him in some station that we crossed earlier and brought along all that food. However he had already finished his dinner and only had a space for a spoon full. He added that this stuff was from the most famous street food vendor in his cousin’s city but would be wasted if I didn’t eat. His destination was due in a couple of hours and by then the food will be all soggy and spoilt.

Okay, I didn’t need that much convincing. Nevertheless, it strengthened my conviction on the guy. I gave in to the temptations and honestly I had not had such yummy Bhelpuri in years! The guy looked genuine….was working with some IT firm in Bangalore and was heading home for his brother’s marriage. I gathered all this info while we ate. Oh I didn’t take more than 5 minutes to finish all that.  Anyways, our conversation had just picked up pace when the a fellow passengers expressed their displeasure on our talking at midnight while he tried hard to sleep. We cut shot our talk and ended it with a thank you and goodnight.  I woke up again at night to gulp down some water and he was gone.

I didn’t register his name. But he brought mana from heaven and I felt blessed.

I think there is some planetary connection to this association. I came into this world at a time when the whole country was revelling in the biggest sporting achievement of India: the 1983 World Cup victory! So I have always chuckled at my self thinking, “I brought along the World Cup for the country”! And then I was born to a cricket freak father. So that ensured that I watched as much cartoons in the TV as I watched cricket matches, in my growing up years….again by compulsion. Those were the days single channel and we had not much to fight for. In the early 1990s, when the cable TV was sweeping the country with cinematic magic, better picture quality and multiple channels, there was a general feeling among the masses that getting a cable TV connection would disturb the child’s studies and distract her. So my father, avoided it for a couple of years till a time came when the neighbours screamed as they watched an important Indo-Pak match in Star Sports and my father sulked as he tuned his 1970s’ Phillips radio!

Papa is a die-hard cricket fan….who remains awake till very late nights to watch a game, who took sick leaves to watch matches or changed his shifts.  And when none of it was not possible he would call up home five times during the match to know the scores. His enthusiasm did rub on us. On days when he had night shifts and had to go half way through the match, we would watch the matches on his behalf and convey the high points as soon as he reached home the next morning. …much before he could catch up the highlights. By the way…such genre of fans do watch the highlights as vehemently as they watch the live game. We poor girls, sometimes even had to give up our favorite Miss World and Universe shows or even an Aamir Khan movie to please papa. Oh ya…cricket was discussed at tea time and dinner..very passionately. My mother had learned to live with it and so did we.

As years passed,  I moved away from papa’s den..leaving him to watch matches more peacefully. But as fate would have it, cricket did not leave me. Who could have imagined that I would fall in love with a man who was as big a cricket enthusiast as papa. …Well, on our very first Valentines day, the man came with a transistor on his date ‘coz an important match was on. I guessed that day that my life was going to be some sport. As days followed I discovered there was more to him than just a cricket fan. The man is a sort of cricket statistician and an ardent Sourav Ganguly fan! I began to take part in his discussions and accept his interest…I think I had been prepared to handle a cricket freak all through my childhood.

When got married in 2008, I was cursed with IPL. No sooner had I began to enjoy our ‘guilt free’ togetherness and marital bliss, than IPL ruined it. As if it was not enough, T20 World Cup followed and so did Champions League over and above the regular tests, ODIs. His friends dropped in to watch the match together…everything was fun but too much of cricket was making me mad. On our days out, my husband would choose a restaurant where they show live matches on large screens. The mans talks, walks and sleeps cricket. And on days he runs out early from office to catch a match or does not change his seat while watching a game with the superstition that wickets might fall…I have a deja vu feeling of having lived this life sometime before.

Two years down the line, I am more considerate with cricket and with my man. I have let him follow his passions…and now I do watch some of the matches even in his absence. I have let cricket squeeze in between us…..more by compulsion than choice .

Worst things first: returning to India after 9 months wasn’t a smooth transition….

A sudden change of weather, from 4 degrees to 40 degrees, took a few days to adjust. To begin with, my welcome package  in Hyderabad had three gifts in store for me:

- an eye infection on the very first day

- Got an instant tan, within a couple of days ( clear complexion earned in the nine months period lost in no time )

- mosquito bites and my nail scratches had developed beautiful motifs on my lower legs by the end of one week here.

Needless to say, I had got used to the easier and cleaner life in London and had become  a delicate darling. However I revived  the real ‘ruff and tuff desi girl’ side of my personality in just few days and got engaged in the process of resettling my household, rearranging and reconnecting with my old stuff. After rounds of unpacking and repacking, we left for my hometown Jamshedpur just six days later.

I always feel nostalgic when heading homewards….childhood comes alive with every passing mile and a feeling sweeps by that nothing much has changed…its still the good old Jamshedpur of my happy carefree days. However this home-coming was more special because

1-I was returning to Jamshedpur after almost 1.5 years

2-I was returning from my first foreign trip and carrying loads of stories and gifts to share with my loved ones

3-and simply because our families have missed us ..perhaps more than we have missed them !

We reached Tatanager station via Kolkata ( no flights yet to Jamshedpur from Hyd). Right after Kharagpur station we started to count the minutes and with every passing familiar station, our excitement rose.

Post marriage, essence of home-coming has changed a bit as compared to my student days when my parents looked forward to not just receive me but to drive  me home as soon as possible. However as a dutiful son and daughter in law they understand that we must first go to my in-law place. Nevertheless, like always ma and papa reached the station well before the scheduled arrival time of our train, just to see us. They get an uncanny pleasure from waiting to receive me and carry some of my luggage when I arrive. All the while they wait, they keep arguing about the exact location of our coach in the platform. Anyways, ma was there as soon as I got there and she hugged me saying, “I have been waiting for so long to hug you like this”. I was dumbstruck with emotions. She had also brought a welcome drink for me and Sudipto….two bottles of  ‘Fruity’…:D

Reconnecting with one’s kin is a strange feeling. As I hugged ma tight..I felt that I was never away and she was always near me. Papa was his usual self….a big grin on his face said it all that was in his heart. As usual he began checking the heaviest bag that he would carry. My father in law (we call him baba) was also there at the station to receive us…a man of few words but a lot of emotions …he just commented that both of us had lost weight. On the way home he bought us our favorite fish cutlets from the food joint ‘Misti’.

What followed ahead was frenzy seven days….that included lunch invitation at my aunty’s place, several trips to my favorite tailor (Oh I loathe the idea of wearing tailored salwar suits from anywhere other than this man who has been stitching my suits ever since I was in class X), trips to Bistupur market, brief stay my mother’s place ( just two days), visiting neighbours (who mean), chatting with ma and sister till 3 am in  the night and yes a special experience of visiting baba’s village in West Bengal to see my grandmother-in-law. Well it was almost two years since our wedding and the old lady has wanted to see her eldest grandson and me since then. Visiting the village, Guptipara, which is about 2 hours by train from Howrah was more about reconnecting with our roots than a pleasure trip. For me it was also adventurous as I had not travelled in the local trains in Bengals for more than a decade and practically not seen a village so closely. Plus I was also excited to meet the ‘Ba’ of our family….grandmom- in-law and see how my ‘sasuma bhi kabhi bahu thi’ . . She happens to be beautiful old darling…in her late eighties but pitch black hair, flawless complexion although with lines of age. We clicked immediately expressing signs of mutual admiration. I also happened to meet my 2 year old brother-in-law (son of one the many uncles) and had a gala time playing with him.

I could sense the pride and happiness in the voice and body language of baba as he brought his family to his mother. ..another home-coming of its kind. After a pure desi ‘mach bhaat’ dinner Sudipto and i were given the highest honours: sleeping in the room of his grand father! The very next morning baba took me around his backyard and introduced me to the various trees that he has grown up with. He shared a brief story of each mango tree and their varieties. He talked about the litchi tree that never bore fruit and the bel tree …which used to bigger and wider. The pineapple trees, coconut, custard apple, jack fruit, drumstick and many such others trees…all had some stories to tell. As we went round the place, crushing dried leaves beneath our feet…I couldnot stop notice the enthusiasm in his voice. It felt he was actually introducing me his extended family members.

Baba and I went around the village for a quick dekho….as we had a train to catch later in the day. He proudly showed me the few houses where the rich and the famous of the village lived in his times, his old school, the club he was a member of , the Durga pooja mandap and few other remnants of his childhood days. As he talked about his school days and friends, Baba was feeling a few years younger, I could sense. Somewhere in my heart I could relate to his feelings on home coming to that of mine when I go to Jamshedpur.

It’s true that happy times run out fast …and so did these 7 days. However the icing on the cake was celebration of our second anniversary at home with family that included both sets of parents, my mashimuni and mesho ( maternal aunt and uncle), sister-in-law and her husband , who also came down from Kolkata and my sister, who bunked her classes for a couple of days for my sake. Incidently my in-laws and we share our anniversary dates…so 13th march is a big family day anyways. The day passed in eating, talking, clicking memories, singing and was finally signed off with a glass of original scotch in every hand.

Next day it was time again to pack our bags to head towards our karam bhoomi, seek blessing from elders and say our byes with hopes of reuniting again sometime very soon.

Home coming was worth the wait.

Wish her more happiness than she can wish for herself….!

I am not around with her on this occasion…gosh!  It’s just a phone call that’s all I could do for her this time. Thankfully my little sister is doing her bit to make her feel special. I could see the thrill in her voice when she said that Simmi had hidden balloons all over that house with sweet messages for her….and Papa had gifted her a new mobile phone. She deserves all this and much more. Ma has done so much to make our birthdays special…each one of them. From making us yummy cakes to self cooking for our friends and relatives on our birthday dinners.. to those little presents. I am so not luckily to have not got a chance to do enough for her…not that she expects. Ma is the name of the giver….didn’t we hear that. But wait…why is always taken for granted ? Knowingly or unknowingly…why I think she will understand if I fail. ..fail to be with her more often…fail to speak to her more often or fail to do that little extra bit to make it grand for her.

Hopefully we shall have a good time together when I come back and make up for the times we missed each other. Love you ma.

Pitlochry, Scotland

We stopped at a small, sleepy Victorian village, Pitlochry. The name of the place is derived from an old tribe called ‘Pict’..who lived in this area until the 10 century. Pitlorchy is certainly blessed with some spectacular scenic beauty but thanks to the snow..we missed much of its ‘greenish’ beauty…But seeing this place, one thing certainly occurred on my mind…the stories of Santa Claus and his reindeers pulling his sleigh  on the hilly snow-covered terrain. The snowy look of the place breathed life to the tales. After some play in the fresh, puffy snow…..(and thats irresistible) …so soft and pure… we had a cup of  warm coffee at a friendly inn, much-needed to dilate the blood  in our veins. The next stoppage was at the mighty and the mystique Loch Ness…..In the words of Keath, it was so big that if the entire population of the world happened to drown into it, it would still not be filled! Being, as long as about 21 kms in length, the lake is more famous for rare sighting of a queer animal’s head and neck reported officially since 1933…than its huge dimensions. According to some legends, the story of the so-called monster dates back to 565 AD, when Saint Columba, reportedly had saved a swimmer from a strange creature living in the lake. Since then several stories of its sighting by different people went around. Luckily or unluckily….Nessie, as the monster is lovingly called didn’t show us its ugly face. Now I say lovingly because…monster or not it certainly is a good marketing strategy which is driving a bonny business for the locals. Tourists and researchers come and spent their time and money on Nessie the monster. Looking at the large store selling Nessie merchandise…I was doubly sure. Let the mystery prevail.

Loch Ness at dusk

More than any monster I was more immersed in seeing and ravishing the divine nature’s beauty at the loch…against the golden sky of the dusk. We also saw the famous Urquhart Castle, now in remnants,  by the bank of the lake. Well, it will be more interesting to introduce this place as a site which appears in the title song of Kuch Kuch Hota hai….BTW the entire song was shot in Scotland.

Well, after indulging in some souvenir shopping , we made our way to Isle of Skye…..our halt for the night. Saucy Mary…. the name of our lodge in Skye, yes I know…sounds a bit raunchy. Quite funny, but the name first caught the imagination of our old man Keath! And then all the other men in our group took notice after he expressed his feeling.  But thankfully Saucy Mary was not too saucy…just a pub along the lodge. And yet again we found an Indian (Bangladeshi) restaurant for our dinner, around the corner…without much effort. Amazing! The food follows the Indians or the Indians follow food….I don’t know.

Day two ended with delight and wish to see more of Scotland….by now, I was completely smitten.

For a perfect holiday, we need a perfect temperament….and that is what we were waiting for till a couple of weeks ago when we finally gave a nod to the 3 day trip to Scotland. Thanks to my husband’s teammates, a young bunch of twenty somethings, whose enthusiasm rubbed on us and we could not let go of the chance of having one great group trip. No better way to use the Christmas holidays than indulging in Caledonian Delight !

I am hereby sharing some of my experiences in Scotland…so that each time I read this…I would relive those moments and each time any of you read this, you could also set on a virtual tour along with me !

To begin with…what makes a perfect holiday spot ? Great natural scenic beauty, rich history and culture, food and transport, great night life….well Scotland has it all and in abundance ! The breath-taking views of the snow-capped mountains, deep blue lakes ( and some frozen ones also) and other water bodies against the clear sky……wished life came to standstill at those moments. Then there were the occasional sighting of the herds of sheep,  the unique highland cattle that looked like yaks as well as a special variety of red deers, grazing in the snow-covered meadows…

The three days and four nights road trip started on 26th December night and we returned to London on30th morning. But in these three days, life was enriched and rejuvenated. We first visited Glasgow, the largest city in Scotland…which was one of the most glories cities in the late 19th and early 20th century and also a primary trading hub with America in the medieval times….thats because of river Clyde that flows through the city. It was also a prime region during the phase of industrial revolution. Though we saw much of the city in a drive through, we did stop at a place …which was worth a visit by all means and that was a whisky distillery called Auchentoshan. Here we got a quick see through of the entire process of making whisky, right from choosing the right ingredients to malting, grinding, brewing, fermentation, distillation, aging and bottling. However the best moment was when we had a session of whisky tasting ! Had my first Scotch in Scotland and served by a Scot ……..sometimes it pays to stay inexperienced in some ways.

From Glasgow we headed further north, straight to the capital of Scotland…Edinburgh, which was about an hour’s drive from there. Our trip would not have been half as entertaining and educating as it was, had it not been for our excellent guide-cum-driver Keath. The snippets of interesting facts and folklore that he kept on pouring, helped us make more sense of our sights and surroundings. Hey this guy was no ordinary driver….a silver haired handsome hunk, he is an ex-service man of the armed forces, with an i-phone in hand and heavenly earning of 27,000 pounds per month ! A bit too talkative…but we can’t complain ‘coz thats his profession. Well, this bonny (the word used very extensively in the country) man was soon left behind in measures of talkativeness by my hubby dear….who asked him endless questions about the people and places…much more than he was prepared to divulge…;) Ah, but like most Scots, he was very friendly and really didn’t mind Mr. Banerjee’s over inquisitiveness and called us a bonny couple. Hey, I even got a nick name from him….he called me Bright Eyes ! And each time he would call me with that name….I could see fumes of jealousy coming out from Mr.Banerjee.

By the afternoon of 27th Dec, we were in Edinburgh- a small, picturesque city with vibrant life with glorious past. We visited the Edinburgh Castle which interesting, is situated on top of an extinct volcano. We got some awesome views of the city’s skyline from the top of the castle and also a quick peep into the history of Scottish royalty. Our next stop was Rosaline Chapel ( of Da Vinci code fame), the Scottish Parliament and finally a much-needed, a  luxurious good night sleep at our hotel. …not to forget the sumptuous dinner that we had in one of many Indian restaurants. By the way, it amazes me to see a plethora of restaurants serving Indian food, all across the UK and interestingly, a majority of these restaurants are run by Bangladeshis. In fact, we managed to dine every night at some Indian restaurant…and that was such a relief after surviving on burgers, chips and sandwiches all day long.

(to be continued…..)

Well 2009 was a very happening year for me …..and shall be cherished all life through. This was the year of experiencing the unexpected. Finally, after years of running behind life, I got some time to pause and ponder and managed to match pace with life. I found time to read, write, catch up with all episodes of Mr. Bean and the like, to loiter around aimlessly in the Malls, window shopping (though not very often i must confess) and also squeezed out time to connect with some good old friends . Though I would love to get back to the hectic work life again, anytime, I lived my life in this welcome break from work.  On the flip side, terribly missed being with family in Jamshedpur.

Here is my list of the highs and lows of 2009

The Highs

1. Jan 09:  welcomed 2009 with my family who came to visit us in Hyderabad around new year’s time. My sister and myself welcomed 2009 by bursting crackers in the balcony at midnight, just like old days.
2. Jan ’09:  a celebration at my in-laws, as my sis in-law took her wedding wows.
3. Feb ’09: Our first valentines day after wedding. Ah yes…also enjoyed the sales season as Hyderabad Central was close to office.
4. Mar ’09: Our first wedding anniversary….an emotional and nostalgic affair.
5. Apr ’09: News of our UK trips breaks in.
6. May ’09: Our first international flight. We arrive in UK and there begin our London Dreams.
7. June ’09: Dream come true ! We visit London Tower bridge on my birthday! Fell in love with the English summers and my man all over again!
8. June ’09: Met my college friend Divya after years.
9. Oct ’09: started my blog…something that was in the pipeline for long.
10. Dec ’09: saw my first snow fall and the much heard about Christmas in UK.
11. Dec ’09: last but not the least…our Scotland trip (there is so much to talk abt it …in my next post)! muah….what a classic way to end a classic year.

The lows

1. May ’09: Left my work…..and kept nagging my husband for that all through the second half of 2009.
2. July, August, September ’09: sister in laws sickness, a major surgery …that was a trying time for the family.
3. Overall being away from family, especially during festival time and when someone back home is sick.

Apart from the few glitches, it was a great year and though not perfect, it certainly ended on a positive message and learning….All izz well !  Thank you 3 Idiots.

As any five-year old girl, all I wanted was a Barbie doll and when my mother came home with the little one…..she said that she has brought me a talking Barbie, that would talk and play with me and stay with me all life through.

Well, as days went by, I didn’t like this talking Barbie, who was a crying baby and still so small to play with me. I also hated the fact that ever since she came, she took my place beside my mother on the bed. And then she got the attention from all…..the attention that I was entitled to all this while.

As she grew older, she became more and more fond of my play things, my books et al. It was not untill when she started going to nursery school that we struck friendship. I began to play the elder sister my walking her to school on my holidays or waiting to pick her up at 12 noon. Then began our petty fights on wanting to have the same pillow to sleep, to sit on the same corner of the sofa (all because the TV could be better viewed from that angle), dining table, car and even for shelf space in the almirah and study table. The smart girl would conveniently choose the shady side window-seat in the car, in the train ….everywhere.

With time, our issues of quarrel changed from wearing each other clothes in the absence of the other, to stealing from either’s collection of stickers, post cards, pens, stationary, accessories and what not. I remember how she would bribe me with all such things to cover her books each year or do her project work or finish her one page of English cursive writing in the summer vacations until mom found out and made her understand what she was loosing on and how every body phrased ‘didibhai’s’ (a loving name in Bengali for the elder sis) handwriting and not hers.

Our apartment would echo with our scream most of the time when we were home. Screams of protest….of disagreements, anger, mutual hatred and even screams of victory and fun, laughter. Every morning while getting ready for school we would compete to get into the bathroom first. How I used to keep all my autograph books, stationary, dairies etc locked in the locker of our cupboard ‘coz she loved to read my dairy in my absence and bully me later (she still does that ) ! She did not even spare my dolls…in my absence she would even undress my dolls and use them on her ones. Grrrrrr…………..I used to become mad with fury.

Well, being the older one had its share of fun…..as a kid she could not finish her one big butter masala dosa and I would wait, so that I could eat her share after finishing mine. I got to use first hand books which were then passed down to her and she quite disliked the fact. On her birthdays, I would conveniently gift her an audio cassette of my favorite movie so that I can enjoy it later. And yes….when driving our scooty, I got the driver’s seat, until she pleaded me to let her improve her driving skills.

Childhood would never had been so colourful without that ‘merry devil’ around. I really feel privileged to have had a sister around….to have someone for a ‘girl to girl talk,’ ….to inspire, to crib, to teach and learn lessons of life. Its a great feeling to know that somebody (my own) looks up to me, learns the kind of language I speak……follows my interests….wants to dress like me. It was only very much later in life that I realised how important role I was playing as an elder sister….I was shaping a young mind! Being an elder sister I am her buddy, her confidant as well as a guardian. I bridge the gap between her and mother. During our growing up years, there were times when my opinion mattered to her more than ma’s. “You don’t know much, I will ask  ‘didibhai’ she would say to ma, much to our ma’s disappointment.

And when I got engaged and was preparing for marriage, it was the most difficult phase in our relation for her. She took a lot of time to except that another man had grown to become my confidant and priority. Till now she accuses her jijaji for stealing her right to sleep beside me! Maybe when it’s time for her wedding, I would also go through similar emotions.

Over the years our relationship was grown but what keeps it alive and real is our constant fights, leg pulling, my pinpointing her faults and her resistant to change and at the end of the day, with all our disagreements, still loving to talk to one another.

Honestly, one cannot measure the treasure of having a sister, without having one. This is one friendship which will remain constant in life……beyond time, age and place. This is one person whom I can call my own when my parents would no longer be there. In fact growing up with a sibling teach us many things like sharing, caring, adjusting with people and most of all keeping alive the childlike innocence.  And all that I pray for, is ask to God nurture this bond and keep it safe from all negative feeling. Ma was right when she brought Simmi home….I truly have a Barbie for a lifetime !

May God bless you dear sister…..do us proud!