Sister, My Dear Sister
Gonna be tough! Gonna be hard! But, I’ve to write this, an inner voice tells me. I’m not a poet, not by a fair distance and apparently an ode means a lyrical poem. Damn! Why did I have to call it Ode? Why not something else?
There is a reason I fret about these things. She is known to be precise, to be accurate and to be orderly when it comes to things. And who else would better vouch for it? ME, of course. I’ve observed her from close quarters since childhood and worse yet, be compared against her and be painfully aware of how lacking I’ve been in those matchups, despite me being elder to her by several years.
Ah, Childhood rivalries and childhood jealousies!
We were like this. I was the elder one and she was the youngest of us lot. But, youngest by age alone and in everything else, she was far superior to me and my other sister. My other sister, oh yeah, I need to write a blog about her too. She would probably want that. But, she is like my alter-ego. Any blog I write about myself is equally applicable to her as well. Looking right at you, my best buddy. Don’t fret. It will come someday as not a standalone blog, but a series of blogs, ok?
Jealousies. Those were the days, I must say. Childhood is very beautiful because life is simple and transparent. There was no cloak of civility that would mask and hide away the pettiness. In a way, life is a lot more easier and a lot more enjoyable because we know where each one stands against another.
I was always against her when we were children. Why not? She was the youngest and got all the limelight while I slid into the sidelines. It wasn’t her fault entirely, though. I was shy and she enjoyed the limelight. By the time I mustered enough courage and confidence to come into the middle, the light was already taken away with her innate talent and her supreme confidence. She could dance, she could sing and she could perform. She spread joy wherever she went and whatever she did and collected some trophies as well.
I wanted to get on stage, shake hands with the school principal, pick up my trophy and smile for the picture. She seemed to do it like clockwork and our desk was overwhelming with her trophies and was somehow still clean and organized. Mine, on the other hand, was free of trophies and was still messy with things thrown around. So, getting a trophy became an obsession. I started propping up my feeble talent and gigantic ego to imitate her. I competed in debate competitions, in poetry recitals, in essay writing competitions, in science fairs and in school plays. And finally, the lady luck shined on me. I was on stage not once, not twice but thrice and I was tired by the end of it with the same routine: wait for your name to be called, walk onto the stage, shake hands with the principal, smile at the photographers and then collect the trophy.
Having tasted plenty of limelight, I moved onto better things in life, like being cool and being trendy. I was no longer in high school, but in college! My wardrobe comprised of clothes my parents picked out for me in the small shops of my small town and some tshirts my Australian aunts brought from abroad. But, there are only so many times, a guy with kangaroos and koala bear pictures on his t-shirt gets noticed at college. And my attempts at going solo shopping and shopping with my friends resulted in fashion disasters. They thought I was a style guru, so go figure!
It was then I noticed her. She seemed to be not worried about coming from a small town. She didn’t try to follow the other girls from her college who wear expensive, elaborate and ostensive colored clothes. Instead she relied on creating her own trend. She wore drab color clothes, wore think glasses and cut her hair short. She was the topper of the college, she was the school valedictorian and she excelled in all endeavors that she took part at. But, still, those things mean nothing if you are not popular! And popular she was! She was elected the school girl by teachers and students alike!
I had to push aside my massive ego and seek out her help. I remember entering her room with a tame smile and telling her that I wanted to get noticed at college and be popular. I wanted her to teach me on how to be like her.
So began our mentorship. I might be exaggerating a bit or quite a bit, but she tried to instill self belief and confidence in me through her talks and through her writings. She christened me as “Star of the family” and would actively encourage me to pursue my passions and believe in myself. She wrote constantly to me and would give me advice on the most relevant thing that was going on at the time. I wish I had the foresight to save those letters!
This isn’t to say that her life was perfect and was smooth sailing. She had her own share of rocky rides in her life, but she handled them with her characteristic calmness and self belief. She took many risks and she succeeded in most of them and failed in some of them. But, she took risks and that’s all that matters.
I might also like to believe that she learnt a thing or two from me as well and if not anything, she knew how to reach out to a somewhat pompous and self aggrandizing student, make that student listen to her and follow her advice.
Happy birthday, my little sis and my wise mentor!
