My number one girl.

"Childhood is measured by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows."

It was a time of Dexter’s laboratory and Falguni Pathak songs on TV. It was a time of going to school half sleeping in the auto and fighting about who will have the remote control while coming back. It was a time of buying the coolest school bags and raincoats. Of stitching Barbie doll dresses and drawing our favourite cartoon characters on greeting cards. It was a time of Enid Blyton novels and saving pocket money to buy ice-cream from the Madhu ice-cream vendor every evening. Of hiding in cardboard cartons for hours and BOO-ing at passers-by, and buying the perfect pichkaaris for Holi. It was a time of hide-and-seek, Coat piece, Business King, Contra, killing Shredder in the Ninja turtles, watching BBQ, Dragon Ball Z, The Bold and The Beautiful, and Baywatch. Where did those days go?

She was my first friend when I was growing up. She came to my rescue when I was bullied by fat girls in school and she was always there when I needed money for ice cream. She took me back to my class safely when I went to her class bawling because I thought that my entire class had ‘disappeared’. She submitted all my leave applications to the Principal’s office because I was too scared to do it myself, and she always gave a call home when I forgot to get my bag to school. She helped me mug up the paryaayvaachi shabd before my Hindi exam and she always decorated and wrote the headings for all my school projects in attractive italics. She screamed at me whenever I was stupid, and as we all know, she has a very low tolerance level for stupidity. She covered up for me when I got low marks and she always introduced me to her friends. Trotting behind her hurriedly as we walked inside the school gates, and always, always looking back once more and waving that one extra ‘bye’ before we went to our respective buildings had become almost essential. I would feel so happy whenever I saw her with her big group of friends in school. I would show her off to all my friends. “You see her? Yes, that’s my didi.” I still remember what she looked like back then. Tall, slightly buck-toothed, silent, composed; wearing round golden earrings and a red ribbon in her high ponytail.

I hated her as we grew up. She was mean and she yelled at me a little too often. She said the most spiteful things and we fought almost every day. I was not exactly an angel myself; probably was a shrilly, irritating little tattletale. We usually had physical brawls, which pretty much ended the same way. With me wailing at the top of my lungs till I got the satisfaction of mom scolding her, and she passing rude, nasty comments to me for the next few days. I still remember how once she dug her nails into my skin and I showed the marks to everyone for the next week. Worse, once she was running after me to give me a good beating, and I closed the door on her face; resulting into a small injury in her eyebrow. That small little gap is still there, and will always be there, reminding her of our unpleasant childhood scuffles :)

We bonded when I matured a little. She told me about her secrets and I told her about my crushes. I began to like her for who she was as a person and even wrote this in her slam book once “Please don’t be cutta with me for whatever I say because I’ll always be sorry.” :P She continued to roar and growl at me on a regular basis, but we really grew on each other. She introduced me to Enigma, Britney, Shakira, Enrique, Westlife, BSB and I spent hours writing all the lyrics down so that we’d be able to sing them together. (She was really bad at learning lyrics. Still is) She wouldn't start studying before killing all the mosquitoes mercilessly and she hated everyone when it was too hot. She read all my childhood stories infested with grammatical and spelling mistakes with a lot of enthusiasm and always encouraged me to write further. She always had that one last bite of Maggi from my plate even though she knew how much I hated it :)

She fought with me when I made the biggest blunders of my life. I never realized then, but now I do. I should have listened to her then. I wish we hadn’t drifted apart for all those months, until it was too late. Until she was gone for MBA. Better late than never though, I have finally realized it. She was only looking out for me. And her way of showing that she cares is not being an overly affectionate big sister, but being a hard, strong teacher.

My didi, who always picked my clothes out for me when we shopped, and showed me how to colour inside the lines, and who hugged me tightly whenever she heard me crying softly in bed, and who always gets me the most wonderful gifts every time she meets me, is getting married. Yes, you heard me. That girl, who I have seen grow up before my eyes. The girl who had major temper issues, who had terrifying arguments with mom and dad. The headstrong girl, with a lot of dreams inside her, has finally become an independent, fully grown-up woman.

I cannot believe she is getting married. Married?! Where did those days go? Those never-ending laughing sessions. The studying together during exams, and her sending me off to make tea and then asking me to wake her up after half an hour. The long, long, conversations that would outgrow the night and we would be in splits on the floor. The times I missed her when she stayed in her locked room, talking on the phone. The times when I was jealous and proud of her at the same time. The times when she woke me up by trying out something innovative each morning and the hysterical laughing sessions looking at each other’s ponytails in the morning. The naming all our toys and throwing parties to celebrate their birthdays. Cycling in our lane, skating on our porch, going out for Big Bun's burgers, MKOP's truffle, Bhagat's bhalla...

Where did the carefree pasta-making, movies-watching, song-singing, dancing-for-no-reason days go? It seems like only yesterday when she would hold my hand and take me to summer hobby classes and swimming lessons.

Though we are completely different people in every way, I still smile when people say we look like twins, or when they point out that the way we speak and laugh is similar. She has always been my strength. She has always, always been there. She listened to me when I called her up crying in the middle of the night during my existential crisis phases. And she always rolled her eyes when I told her how and why my life couldn't be better.

Didoo, I know after reading this post you are probably going to say “Nautanki!” but I really, really want you to know. I love you. And I’m sorry if I’ve never been appreciative enough, if I’ve never made it clear. You know what an idiotic emotional wimp I am. Our conversation in Baroda made me realize you cared about me as much as I cared about you. It’s just that you are not that expressive enough. But I have always loved you. How could I not? You were always there, supporting me, providing me a cushion that I could always fall back upon. And being a witness and a partner to all my craziness.

You actually are getting married. (Good lord!) I’m so happy you’re marrying someone you love and someone who loves you back. I hope you have an amazing life ahead. I hope you get what you’ve always dreamed of. I know all about them :) You’re my number one inspiration, my number one best friend and one of my most favourite people in the world. You’re my number one girl.

Come soon so I can see you make that typical expression of yours that I know you’re making right now :)

P.S. You know what? You’re going to be a bride :O :)

(Didoo and me, 1994)

(Didoo and me, 2011)