This post is dedicated to my sister and my mother, with due apologies to the former and a drum roll of honour for the latter.
Continue reading “The Cream Heist”The Cream Heist
#If we were having coffee….. 1
If we were having coffee … I’d tell you how wonderful sisters were. I’d tell you about the marvellous week I just spent with mine. Then after I realised how I’d gone on and on about what a rare treat it was to have S here and what a terrible pity it was that we did not live together, I’d probably ask you about yours. I’d enjoy listening to you because I’d find us in your sister-tales. Then you and I together would shake our heads in amazement, wondering how little sisters went from being complete pains when they were young to such soul mates when they grew up.
If we were having coffee … I’d probably complain a bit, for which coffee session is complete without some grumbling? I’d grouse about how H decided to fall ill just as S landed and kept us housebound much of the time. But then I’d also tell you about those endless chat sessions we could indulge in talking, arguing, agreeing sometimes and agreeing to disagree at others.
If we were having coffee … I’d moan about not being able to catch The Intern together as we’d planned. But then I’d also tell you about the film we did manage to watch on the tele. And I’d tell you how we sprawled on the ground laughing together as she wiped off imaginary sweat from microwaving popcorn.
If we were having coffee … I’d share with you what fun it was to team up with her to tease the twins. And I’d tell you how we almost choked on our food laughing at them as they got more and more worked up.
If we were having coffee … I’d tell you about our coffee shop adventure – how we drove away from at least four of them till we found one that was suitably empty. And then laughed at our penchant for brink-of-bankruptcy coffee shops that nobody else went to.
If we were having coffee … I’d probably seem in a bit of a rush now that she’s gone and all the tasks that seemed so inconsequential till she was here suddenly seem to rush up and inundate me with their urgency. Yet I’d sit down for that cup of coffee because I need a bit of comforting and I’d be consoled with your presence. Then I’d send up a thank-you prayer for a family full of friends and friends who have turned into family.
What would you share if we were having coffee?
My Little Sister
He sat sulking, eyes straying to the clock, waiting his turn at the TV. He could hear the endless Barbie movie in the next
room. Ugh! Girls! If only he had a brother instead. They would have raced cars
and watched Ben 10 forever. He would trade her any day.
Or would he?
Would the brother call him bhai as sweetly as she did? Would he
make silly faces till he laughed after mum yelled at him? Would he hold his
hand at the movies, even though he wouldn’t admit he was scared?
make silly faces till he laughed after mum yelled at him? Would he hold his
hand at the movies, even though he wouldn’t admit he was scared?
Nope! He wasn’t letting her go, ever!
Linking to Write Tribe’s 100 words on Saturday for the prompt ‘My little sister’.
Dear Sister…
This is perhaps the first time I’m writing to you, ever. Isn’t that strange? We do talk though. All the time. On the phone, through Whatsapp, through mails, on FB – – thoughts, opinions, jokes, gossip and pictures; Oh the pictures – – from home, from the roadside, from markets and shops and trial rooms, back and forth, the communication is constant.
Letters however are a different thing. They give you space to think and express and talk about things you might never have told each other.
Let me start at the beginning. It certainly wasn’t love at first sight. There you were, comfortably sleeping in MY favourite place, snuggling up to MY favourite person. That’s MY mum, I’d shouted! claiming what was rightfully mine, had been mine for three whole years – ALL mine. But then probably you’d opened your eyes and given me one of those smiles – – Toothless, guileless, lazy and laid back and I was sold – just like everyone else. Then on we shared everything – – clothes, books, school, college, crushes, friends and foes.
I have often felt God intended us to be twins. We were meant to be born together only you had lingered, perhaps involved in some exciting adventure, while I made an early appearance. However once here you never truly believed or behaved like the younger sibling matching punch for punch and braid pull for braid pull. Yeah you call me ‘didi’ but that’s such a token thing – – Like Manmohan Singh’s prime ministership.
We were equal partners in crime, plotting and planning against the common enemy – mum! Remember how we spilt the entire bottle of cream and hid it away, or the times we sneaked off the school bus to our favourite bookshop, or when we managed to unlock the TV (yeah TVs had locks back then) and watch that forbidden film? I still get goosebumps but you never had any reservations, cool as the proverbial cucumber.
Despite your bravado, to me you always were the little one, the baby sister I’d carry around proudly on my back. The little one who’d fainted on me when we’d gone to visit a sick friend giving me a near heart-attack. The sister I once forgot to pick up at school and then went back and searched and searched my heart filling up with an awful dread only to reach home and find you happily perched at the dining table. Oh you could take care of yourself even then.
We are the perfect foil to each other. My patience to your impetuousness, my Capricornian discretion to your Scorpio bluntness, my conformity to your irreverence, my look-before-you-leap to your if-you-hesitate-you’re-lost, so different yet so similar.
When I became a mum you turned the best masi ever – – cool and fun. Whether it’s taking the kids for a walk in the rain (something I’ll never do), teaching N to whistle (something I cannot do) or trading drawings of aliens with H, you’re the best.
If ever there comes a time when the kids have a disagreement with me I know they will confide in you. And I know you will guide them with level headed wisdom, sanely yet without the encumbrances of being a mum. And secure in that knowledge I blithely wield the strict mum baton.
You’ve taught me so many things….
– To have fun without over thinking consequences.
– To stop worrying about ‘what’ll everyone say’
– To give new ideas a thought before saying ‘no’.
– To think about everyone and yet not to forget to live for yourself.
and above all
– to be brave and strong and to accept, … not just accept … but enjoy life no matter what cards are dealt to you.
Life wouldn’t have been the same without you
Hugs!
PS: Yeah I got all emotional but it doesn’t mean I’ll relinquish the remote or let you switch on the fan at night… don’t even think about it!
This post is part of the Write Tribe initiative. For more interesting letters drop in at
If only you were here
The signs
are everywhere. Red, white, yellow, green… They pop up on streets, at roadsides.
They stare at me out of magazines and newspapers and even from the television.
They inundate malls, flood stores. I switch on the Internet and there they are tempting,
beckoning, begging me.
are everywhere. Red, white, yellow, green… They pop up on streets, at roadsides.
They stare at me out of magazines and newspapers and even from the television.
They inundate malls, flood stores. I switch on the Internet and there they are tempting,
beckoning, begging me.
Take a look,
they say, come on in. What are you waiting for? They ask.
they say, come on in. What are you waiting for? They ask.
I turn away.
I cannot answer their call.
I cannot answer their call.
You dear
sister sit far away in another city. All these signboards shouting out SALE are
no fun without you, the best shopping partner ever.
sister sit far away in another city. All these signboards shouting out SALE are
no fun without you, the best shopping partner ever.
If only you
were here!
were here!
Linking to “100 words on Saturday” at Write Tribe for the prompt “If only you were here…”
