February 22nd 2010:
On the eve of Gundu's 27th birthday... 27 years of life. 27 = 30-3. Three years away from being 30 years old.
She makes me feel old, she's not much older than me, so I feel like I will be there too very soon, though she would have gone ahead by the time I catch up to that spot.
We started life in the same house, nobody's been there other than both of us, she was its first occupant, I was the second, though both of us have no memories of life in that sack which housed us, nourished us, grew us enough to thrust us out into this world.
It amazes me, that there is another person out there in the world who shares my parents' genes with me. Somebody so different from me. Growing up, we used to almost look like twins, not much of an age gap, similar body frames, similar matching clothes, just that I was darker, she was a lot fairer, some of my mother's colleagues mistook us as fraternal twins. That is how we were- inseparable. Yet how different we grew up to be as adults.
If there is one person who loved me so much in life, I tasted that love first with her. Right from when I was a clot of blood, she was eager to have me in her life, she was only 1.5 years old, just learning to speak when I was born. If the adults tucked me away somewhere out of her sight & I continued to sleep silently, she would ask them with great worry, "Chillelu edi?" (Where is little sister?).
Family counselors warn would-be-parents on how to handle a jealous older sibling upon the birth of a second baby. My parents never had to deal with that, Gundu loved me so much, she was ever there to defend me if dad was strict with me, I remember her arguing with him in my defense while I cried.
As a toddler, if I wanted to switch the lights on & off and Tittu didn't let me, Gundu would protest, 'Veyyaniyyi chellelu ni, cheyyaniyyi! ' (Let little sister do it, don't stop her).
When she was 3.5 years old and I was 2 years old, my father took us shopping. I fell down on the way back and cried with a scraped knee. Papa's hands were full of shopping bags. Gundu said, "Nanna, ivvanni nenu mostanu, nuvvu chellelu ni ettuko" (Dad, I'll carry all these, you please take little sister into your arms).
I always saw her as my big elder sister, my guide, my pole star, the Ms.Know-it-all, my repository of knowledge.
I wasn't an attentive student at school, Gundu taught me maths, physics, chemistry, civics, geography, just on the day before the final exam, I would scrape through because of her, I excelled & stood class first because of her. My child brain couldn't understand the concept of division, the concept of fractions, the conventions of algebra, she could place herself in my shoes and guide my deviant thinking onto the right path. I was pretty much nothing other than a copy-cat in my early years. I copied what Gundu wore, I craved for Gundu's advice, I wanted to do everything that Gundu did. I didn't want to go to school if Gundu was sick, I wouldn't want to attend music class if Gundu didn't go along. I made myself Gundu's shadow, I couldn't do anything if Gundu wasn't beside me, and I could do everything with Gundu by me.
At two instances in life, she actually saved me. Once from getting lost, another time from death. I vividly recall those details, if Gundu hadn't been there by my side, I would have been a lost orphan. And most certainly dead at 9 years of age on a Holi Purnima day. I shudder when I recollect that.
As we grew older, our characters changed phenomenally. Gundu no longer liked me copying her, she wanted to be different, if I saw her wear a particular dress and I wore my identical one, she would immediately change her clothes! I used to feel so frustrated, Gundu refused to give me straight answers for all my doubts, she told me to use my own head & be original. Gundu loved picking at my faults, she loved exhibiting them (blown out of proportion) out to the public, confusing me further if I asked her a doubt, thoroughly enjoying my discomfort. Gundu didn't want me talking to her in school, she stopped visiting me during lunch breaks, she told me to pretend like we don't know each other.
At one point in life, I chose a different line in academics, so the tuition sessions stopped. We no longer had common subjects, we had a very different study schedule. I had to struggle alone, I could no longer run to her for advice in things foreign to her. I stopped asking Gundu for her advice by and by, I learnt how to survive alone. I developed myself, I realized that I didn't need to be her shadow, I was astounded when Ustadji once told me during a solo music class that I had a much sweeter voice. By and by, with a lot of initial struggle, I gave up being Gundu's shadow, I don't know how far I managed it, perhaps not in it's entirety, in times of trouble, it was Gundu I ran to, whether she liked it or not!
The school going Gundu was a very duty-bound girl, while I was a in-my-own-world free bird. College is very different, nobody tells you what to do, you have to decide what you want out of life. My confidence grew as I started dealing with subjects of my choice/interest at my own pace. Whereas Gundu, she didn't believe in making safe wise choices, Gundu loved to defy the standards and experiment. If you drew a line & told Gundu not to step further, she would promptly step out of line. Sometimes she proved herself right & set her own standards. Gundu was always confident, sure of what she wanted, whereas I thought myself incapable. I constantly sought my mother's guidance/approval out of insecurity. Gundu occasionally sought parent's help to get her out of the troubles that she experimented with. Gundu's philosophy was very simple, life should be enjoyed today, tomorrow never happens. In my mind's eye, I can picture those two almost-twins, 9 & 7 years old, in the summer of 1992... Gundu & I, bound to each other with a pale blue chunni tied up in knots, we pulled & tugged in opposite directions. Tittu shouting at us for having ruined the chunni. It was Gundu's chunni, she never thought of saving for tomorrow, she used up her chunni right then. I saved my chunni, it was there with me till the other day (until Air India ate it up). That chunni tugging game, I never realized, that's how our lives would turn out, both of us tugging & seeking in different directions.
Something very surprising started happening in our later years, Gundu started seeking my advice, Gundu started copying me, if we had to go to a party, Gundu would ask me what I was going to wear, what should she wear, Gundu wanted to discuss things with me. Gundu felt I was better than her in a lot of things, it was surprising to see Gundu's burnt fingers, it was surprising to see her stumble.
It was surprising how little I knew about Gundu, how little she knew about me, I always missed her after she shed me. She grew tired of the baby in me, and it took me time to accept my orphan status. We grew up to be perfectly juxtaposed at a material & philosophical level: I never cared about my things, Gundu was a meticulous planner & arranged all her things, her room, in such an organized way. I spent a lot of my time thinking, I always wanted to please my loved ones, I always wanted to organize my thoughts and evaluate my karma, Gundu's thoughts were never organized, they were always recylced & replaced, thinking is of no use to people who live in today, they don't plan their karma.
Now we both are so much older, that the age gap seems insignificant. Looking back, I realize, she needed as much care as I did, only that we didn't realize that she was as vulnerable as me, as little as me, she was always big in our eyes. I just wonder, could life have been any different if I occupied the sack before her? Perhaps I wouldn't have shed her like she shed me.
Today, we are two grown up women, living on two different continents, each on one corner of the earth. Nevertheless, our genes bind us forever, that sack which birthed us, that umbilical cord, that blue chunni knotted on a summer afternoon, tied us for a lifetime.
Gundu, you have been a major force in my life, life would have never been the same without you, nobody impacted me as much as you did, nobody made me think as much as you did. I can say with certainty, God made us meet because you had/have a phenomenal role to play in my quest for moksha, in one life with you, I experienced emotions & events worth a thousand lives. And yet, you're only 27 years old today!
Wishing Gundu a very happy 27th birthday, in a life where we strive to comprehend & take control over the power of emotions & the God that created them from within us. For from within our emotions can we experience God, and from within those emotions can we unleash the devil.
(Three cheers to all the cherubic and devilish things we did! :-) )
Update 2014:
Much has happened in the four years after I wrote this out for you. I am thirty this year, aunt to a handsome nephew, mom to a cute boy... Discussing Nandu & Summu's activites, we relive our childhood constantly, wondering if we can provide as fun & wholesome a childhood to our kids as ours was?
It is sometimes chilling to notice Nandu exhibit some habit that I have (itching at my nose in a particular fashion :D), shows how strong genes are, after all, blood is thicker than water!
That blue chunni must be definitely there in those Delhi trunks, along with the shocking pink & black chunnis that had glitter pressed into them.
Life doesn't feel as king sized as it did when we were tiny, nothing makes me as happy as the feeling of jumping into that box bed Tittu opened every six months to welcome the change of seasons: the putting out of warm clothes, putting away summer clothes, that exciting endless cycle.
One person that has always been there for me every single day as I struggled with my pregnancy & raising Summu, is didi, with as much concern as when she was a toddler.
Living half way across the globe from each other, there is nothing much one can do regarding physical assistance. But the moral support has been immesurable. One person I can just call & discuss all my frustrations... Wait, I don't even bother to make that call, didi always calls me up :)
Thanks didi for being there for me, I love you so much, our kids will grow, we will grow old, but we are just didi-chellelu in our eyes, it's our little secret, a feeling only our hearts will knowl, even when we are sixty!
The other day Summu was looking quizzically at the picture hanging in the bedroom, two little girls with bobbed hair, in pavadaas (traditional long skirts), I explained to him that it is his peddamma & mommy, he found it hilarious & laughed a lot. Just the way we laughed when we saw old pics in Punjagutta :)
Many happy birthdays to you, to me, my pyari didi :-*
On the eve of Gundu's 27th birthday... 27 years of life. 27 = 30-3. Three years away from being 30 years old.
She makes me feel old, she's not much older than me, so I feel like I will be there too very soon, though she would have gone ahead by the time I catch up to that spot.
We started life in the same house, nobody's been there other than both of us, she was its first occupant, I was the second, though both of us have no memories of life in that sack which housed us, nourished us, grew us enough to thrust us out into this world.
It amazes me, that there is another person out there in the world who shares my parents' genes with me. Somebody so different from me. Growing up, we used to almost look like twins, not much of an age gap, similar body frames, similar matching clothes, just that I was darker, she was a lot fairer, some of my mother's colleagues mistook us as fraternal twins. That is how we were- inseparable. Yet how different we grew up to be as adults.
If there is one person who loved me so much in life, I tasted that love first with her. Right from when I was a clot of blood, she was eager to have me in her life, she was only 1.5 years old, just learning to speak when I was born. If the adults tucked me away somewhere out of her sight & I continued to sleep silently, she would ask them with great worry, "Chillelu edi?" (Where is little sister?).
Family counselors warn would-be-parents on how to handle a jealous older sibling upon the birth of a second baby. My parents never had to deal with that, Gundu loved me so much, she was ever there to defend me if dad was strict with me, I remember her arguing with him in my defense while I cried.
As a toddler, if I wanted to switch the lights on & off and Tittu didn't let me, Gundu would protest, 'Veyyaniyyi chellelu ni, cheyyaniyyi! ' (Let little sister do it, don't stop her).
When she was 3.5 years old and I was 2 years old, my father took us shopping. I fell down on the way back and cried with a scraped knee. Papa's hands were full of shopping bags. Gundu said, "Nanna, ivvanni nenu mostanu, nuvvu chellelu ni ettuko" (Dad, I'll carry all these, you please take little sister into your arms).
I always saw her as my big elder sister, my guide, my pole star, the Ms.Know-it-all, my repository of knowledge.
I wasn't an attentive student at school, Gundu taught me maths, physics, chemistry, civics, geography, just on the day before the final exam, I would scrape through because of her, I excelled & stood class first because of her. My child brain couldn't understand the concept of division, the concept of fractions, the conventions of algebra, she could place herself in my shoes and guide my deviant thinking onto the right path. I was pretty much nothing other than a copy-cat in my early years. I copied what Gundu wore, I craved for Gundu's advice, I wanted to do everything that Gundu did. I didn't want to go to school if Gundu was sick, I wouldn't want to attend music class if Gundu didn't go along. I made myself Gundu's shadow, I couldn't do anything if Gundu wasn't beside me, and I could do everything with Gundu by me.
At two instances in life, she actually saved me. Once from getting lost, another time from death. I vividly recall those details, if Gundu hadn't been there by my side, I would have been a lost orphan. And most certainly dead at 9 years of age on a Holi Purnima day. I shudder when I recollect that.
As we grew older, our characters changed phenomenally. Gundu no longer liked me copying her, she wanted to be different, if I saw her wear a particular dress and I wore my identical one, she would immediately change her clothes! I used to feel so frustrated, Gundu refused to give me straight answers for all my doubts, she told me to use my own head & be original. Gundu loved picking at my faults, she loved exhibiting them (blown out of proportion) out to the public, confusing me further if I asked her a doubt, thoroughly enjoying my discomfort. Gundu didn't want me talking to her in school, she stopped visiting me during lunch breaks, she told me to pretend like we don't know each other.
At one point in life, I chose a different line in academics, so the tuition sessions stopped. We no longer had common subjects, we had a very different study schedule. I had to struggle alone, I could no longer run to her for advice in things foreign to her. I stopped asking Gundu for her advice by and by, I learnt how to survive alone. I developed myself, I realized that I didn't need to be her shadow, I was astounded when Ustadji once told me during a solo music class that I had a much sweeter voice. By and by, with a lot of initial struggle, I gave up being Gundu's shadow, I don't know how far I managed it, perhaps not in it's entirety, in times of trouble, it was Gundu I ran to, whether she liked it or not!
The school going Gundu was a very duty-bound girl, while I was a in-my-own-world free bird. College is very different, nobody tells you what to do, you have to decide what you want out of life. My confidence grew as I started dealing with subjects of my choice/interest at my own pace. Whereas Gundu, she didn't believe in making safe wise choices, Gundu loved to defy the standards and experiment. If you drew a line & told Gundu not to step further, she would promptly step out of line. Sometimes she proved herself right & set her own standards. Gundu was always confident, sure of what she wanted, whereas I thought myself incapable. I constantly sought my mother's guidance/approval out of insecurity. Gundu occasionally sought parent's help to get her out of the troubles that she experimented with. Gundu's philosophy was very simple, life should be enjoyed today, tomorrow never happens. In my mind's eye, I can picture those two almost-twins, 9 & 7 years old, in the summer of 1992... Gundu & I, bound to each other with a pale blue chunni tied up in knots, we pulled & tugged in opposite directions. Tittu shouting at us for having ruined the chunni. It was Gundu's chunni, she never thought of saving for tomorrow, she used up her chunni right then. I saved my chunni, it was there with me till the other day (until Air India ate it up). That chunni tugging game, I never realized, that's how our lives would turn out, both of us tugging & seeking in different directions.
Something very surprising started happening in our later years, Gundu started seeking my advice, Gundu started copying me, if we had to go to a party, Gundu would ask me what I was going to wear, what should she wear, Gundu wanted to discuss things with me. Gundu felt I was better than her in a lot of things, it was surprising to see Gundu's burnt fingers, it was surprising to see her stumble.
It was surprising how little I knew about Gundu, how little she knew about me, I always missed her after she shed me. She grew tired of the baby in me, and it took me time to accept my orphan status. We grew up to be perfectly juxtaposed at a material & philosophical level: I never cared about my things, Gundu was a meticulous planner & arranged all her things, her room, in such an organized way. I spent a lot of my time thinking, I always wanted to please my loved ones, I always wanted to organize my thoughts and evaluate my karma, Gundu's thoughts were never organized, they were always recylced & replaced, thinking is of no use to people who live in today, they don't plan their karma.
Now we both are so much older, that the age gap seems insignificant. Looking back, I realize, she needed as much care as I did, only that we didn't realize that she was as vulnerable as me, as little as me, she was always big in our eyes. I just wonder, could life have been any different if I occupied the sack before her? Perhaps I wouldn't have shed her like she shed me.
Today, we are two grown up women, living on two different continents, each on one corner of the earth. Nevertheless, our genes bind us forever, that sack which birthed us, that umbilical cord, that blue chunni knotted on a summer afternoon, tied us for a lifetime.
Gundu, you have been a major force in my life, life would have never been the same without you, nobody impacted me as much as you did, nobody made me think as much as you did. I can say with certainty, God made us meet because you had/have a phenomenal role to play in my quest for moksha, in one life with you, I experienced emotions & events worth a thousand lives. And yet, you're only 27 years old today!
Wishing Gundu a very happy 27th birthday, in a life where we strive to comprehend & take control over the power of emotions & the God that created them from within us. For from within our emotions can we experience God, and from within those emotions can we unleash the devil.
(Three cheers to all the cherubic and devilish things we did! :-) )
Update 2014:
Much has happened in the four years after I wrote this out for you. I am thirty this year, aunt to a handsome nephew, mom to a cute boy... Discussing Nandu & Summu's activites, we relive our childhood constantly, wondering if we can provide as fun & wholesome a childhood to our kids as ours was?
It is sometimes chilling to notice Nandu exhibit some habit that I have (itching at my nose in a particular fashion :D), shows how strong genes are, after all, blood is thicker than water!
That blue chunni must be definitely there in those Delhi trunks, along with the shocking pink & black chunnis that had glitter pressed into them.
Life doesn't feel as king sized as it did when we were tiny, nothing makes me as happy as the feeling of jumping into that box bed Tittu opened every six months to welcome the change of seasons: the putting out of warm clothes, putting away summer clothes, that exciting endless cycle.
One person that has always been there for me every single day as I struggled with my pregnancy & raising Summu, is didi, with as much concern as when she was a toddler.
Living half way across the globe from each other, there is nothing much one can do regarding physical assistance. But the moral support has been immesurable. One person I can just call & discuss all my frustrations... Wait, I don't even bother to make that call, didi always calls me up :)
Thanks didi for being there for me, I love you so much, our kids will grow, we will grow old, but we are just didi-chellelu in our eyes, it's our little secret, a feeling only our hearts will knowl, even when we are sixty!
The other day Summu was looking quizzically at the picture hanging in the bedroom, two little girls with bobbed hair, in pavadaas (traditional long skirts), I explained to him that it is his peddamma & mommy, he found it hilarious & laughed a lot. Just the way we laughed when we saw old pics in Punjagutta :)
Many happy birthdays to you, to me, my pyari didi :-*
this is the sweeeeeeetest tribute that any sister can pay...
ReplyDeleteand to imagine i call puji Gundu :)