My Little Bundle of Joy

Yesterday, when I returned home, she kind of quetched… “Dids, you can write even about your college registrar in your blog… when will you write something about me?” Well… The very fact that she caught up with my recent posts proves that she’s finally finished with her end-terms and has all the time on earth to peak into my musings… Glee… So, this is for my dearest cutie-pie… Read on.

Sixteen years ago, a little bundle of joy entered my life… Yes, I’m talking about this sweet little gift that God gave me on a dry night in the hottest month of April. After a gruelling wait of seven long years, he bestowed happiness into our lives. I was finally one of the privileged lot – I too had a sibling! But wait a minute… was I happy then?? Not really…

Amazed? Let me explain why!

I was the only regnant devil of my house for seven longs years… When I saw my mommy’s tummy growing bigger with every passing day, I had asked my dad… (Caution: The excerpt below is retooled from the conversation we had almost sixteen point five years back… It might be tainted at places…)

Me: “What is mom suffering from?”
Dad: “She’s not suffering; she’s making room for your most coveted gift. It’s your sibling growing in her…”
Me: “But I don’t need one… I won’t share my room… Not even my toys...” (And made faces)

Dad: “If it’s a baby boy, you can tie him Rakhi and he’ll give you lotsa gifts. If it’s a baby girl, she’ll help you out with your Barbie house…”
…

Well… I gave it a thought, the idea of getting lotsa gifts from a bro seemed convincing enough. But I already hated to see my mom all ballooned up for the debutante devil. All set, and done… It was the D-day. (Info: My mom was highly diabetic then, and her pregnancy had always been at her own risk.) I preferred to stay in the confines of our brand new Maruti-800 with our driver bhaiyya RajTilak…(for all you Accord and Accent owners, I’d asseverate… it was then the most luxurious car!!) As I listened to “Hawa hawa e-hawa khusboo udaa de…” , my dad came screaming downstairs. I waited to hear from him about the rakhi-return-gifter I was waiting for, but instead he rushed straight into the OT with me, and told me to wake my mom up… (She was unconscious… and I thought she was sleeping!). Not understanding the gravity of the situation, I told her to wake up immediately, as I was bored of listening to the same cassette ‘n’ number of times. She finally opened her eyes.

Now, let me throw some light on the whereabouts of the tardiest entrant. It seems, the new-born was born with a great do-not-disturb attitude. And to my sheer disappointment it was a baby-sis. She didn’t bother to cry when she took her first breath in this whole new world. I guess she found it too middle-class to cry and announce her grand entry. Rather, she preferred it the other way round. She wanted to be the cynosure of all attention! With doctors and nurses running helter-skelter to ensure she’s fine and kicking, she finally succumbed and did away with her ego and… squealed! The nurse brought her near my mom’s bed… Everyone was overwhelmed… except ME..

Reasons:
-> My entire castle of ideas of asking for exotic gifts from a bro had just shattered.
-> Mom was put to another week of bed-rest which meant I needed to behave like a grown-up girl for a few more days… Phew.
-> She was fairer than me :( and to top it all she was Fat. Well, she was a healthy ten point five pounds record-holder baby of the nursing home till date. It’s another story that you won’t believe even a bit of this if you see her now! She’s grown up to be one of those slim-n-trim college rose-queen damsels ;)

Well… These were just few of the reasons. There were many more in the list of a seven-year old pampered little girl a.k.a. me. Hundreds of guests visiting our place, and gifting the new-born with thousands of gifts. And as if this wasn’t all… they’d say she’s so fair and good-looking. I was fuming with jealousy!! (It’s a girlie trait after all.. be it a seven-year old kid-girl or a seventy-year old hag… women can’t stand comparisons!). In fact, I don’t remember much, but mom says, I once sat on top of that month-old tiny tot out of anger. Also, I tortured my daddy with thousands of cockamamie questions asking him for clarifications as to why did he get those 10 dresses for her and only 1 for me (of course, as a kid only the count mattered!) This entire hullabaloo, mebbe, since I’m born on human-right’s day, demonstrating for my rights is an inborn trait!

Well… All said and done... Today, as we girls watch F.R.I.E.N.D.S. together in the cozy comfort of my room, I look back at those times and feel, I was so foolish! My sweet little damoiselle never complained. It was from her that I learnt to be patient, savvy and compassionate. Because of her, I learnt the joy of sharing, the happiness of having someone to count upon. I love every time she calls me ‘Dids’ (pronounced 'DEEDS'). The sense of belonging, the respect, the love, the care, that she’s chipped in from her end has indeed made my life all the more enjoyable.

Love U Baby.

-Ships.