Tag: The sister

A special link

A special link

As soon as a baby makes his or her debut before friends and family the ‘resemblance’ discussion starts. And so it was with H and N. One look at H’s large feet and he was claimed by the Husband’s ‘side’. (at seven, he and I share a shoe size!!). N, was a bit of a mystery. She was definitely not like The Husband and not much like me either, at least that was the family consensus. Finally after much debate she was pronounced to look like my sister.. and that I think was how the first link formed.

The twins adore my sister…

My sister handles masihood brilliantly. She pampers the twins silly – buys them weird and wacky gifts, regularly treats them to ice cream, takes them for walks in the rain and even has the courage to take them to a toy shop and say that magic word ‘choose’.

A special link..

However with N there’s something special. Perhaps because N is a lot like her.. not just in looks but also in her personality. 
– They’re both no food people (Dumping tiffins, passing over breakfast to siblings, not noticing that they haven’t eaten anything for hours on end)
– Hence they’re both thin as sticks (the sister was for a long long time)
– They both like to sleep in weird postures (that, I am not at liberty to elucidate here)
– Both have scant regard for authority (specially mine)
– Both are extremely impatient with my ‘conservative’ ways (yes already)
– And recently when N got braces they were in the exact same teeth my sister had hers (I never needed any)
As N grows up I’ve come to value this connection between them. While the kids are young she’s a fun aunt. When they grow up, I see in her a special confidante who’ll perhaps see their point of view better, because she has the benefit of perspective.
That’s my sister teaching N the essential skill of whistling.. something I’m yet to master.
Linking to Marathon Bloggers for our one week fun fest ‘A story for every picture, a picture for every story”. Today’s prompt was ‘Links’.

Dear Sister…

Dear Sister…

This is perhaps the first time I’m writing to you, ever. Isn’t that strange? We do talk though.. don’t we? 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


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


Meet me on Instagram @obsessivemom06

Load More
Something is wrong.
Instagram token error.

RSS On my other blog

  • The Conundrum – A Review
    Book Title: The Conundrum Author: Ajita Jabal Shah     The Story The Conundrum tells the story of Maia, brought up in a relatively sheltered world by open-minded parents who encourage her to follow her dreams. And that of Ajay, a poor farmer’s son, who has toiled his way to college. They don’t seem to […]