Still wallowing in memories

To get the bar of Cadbury fruit and nut and a 20 rupee note, I had to wait for one long year. And with each year, as we got older, I saw ma adding 5 bucks to the 20 and by the time i reached class 8 I was getting about 50 bucks and a bar of Cadbury. I also remember parting with the 50 buck once because you needed it more ..so u waited until ma went out of sight and then begged me to give you back your gift for an exchange of something, I don’t remember) .  And quickly you grew up, and got your first pay check. That’s when you bought me my first pair of Nike and took me for a joy ride on the retro blue Bajaj, around Tank Bund.

But these are not the best memories. I still like the picnic under our mango trees the best. And the early morning 4 am History and geography revisions we did together under the mosquito net on chilly wintery mornings.  You helped me with math, and i only wished you also helped me gulp down that steel glass full of milk, which you so diligently finished, while ma scowled at me. And I finally accept that I didn’t really mind you taking away my Atlas Sport star on our way back from school- I quite liked it- you were the head boy then, and it was only a pleasure to let you have my cycle. I was only jealous of one thing- your stamps. You could have given me a stake in them you know. I was your lil sis after all.

To this day, on Raksha Bandhan, I long to go back to those carefree days. Days we fought and made up with a quick exchange of orange candies. Days we had pillow fights, days you took me to the loo in the night coz I was scared of Vikram Aur Betaal. And you were the best ever when you held my hand and walked me on the roads, lest I got run over (did u do that because ma had asked u to?) . And da, ma still tells me you stood by the crib making faces and kept me entertained when I was a baby, while ma finished her chores. I imagine you making those faces when you stick out your tongue and roll your eyes for Aadi.

U were never really a sloppy bro- the types who sang phoolon ka taaron ka..but u stole ‘that rose for Ms Cicielia from Madhusudan aunty’s garden’  for me. And no matter how much you deny being soft centered, I saw you crying like a baby clutching my hand, never wanting to let go, when I left home, symbolically, during my Bidai.

Happy Rakhi (no no, I won’t wish the Sawant variety in a zillion years on you), da. Have a good one.

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