It's a bird ... It's a plane ... It's Supergirl!

My Mom's been telling me about 'IT' these past few months. There's going to be a baby. Her tum'd been growing and had began to look as though it would burst.

Now do I care if it'd be a boy or a girl? I don' sink so. I'm too little to know the difference and / or have a preferance. I'm only about a year and eight months, you see. All I know is Ma and Baba are SO EXCITED. And that's so infectious. I ask Ma each day, well, not each day, really, every couple of weeks.

You see, this woman doesn't seem to remember she's pregant! It's I that have to watch in horror as she climbs that rickety old step-ladder to bring that suitcase down from the loft. I can't see her face, that tummy being in the way, but watch carefully for the slightest sign of imbalance. My fingers twist nervously, but I'm ready to stretch my arms out and catch her if she topples over.

My intentions were always good, but not always so sensible. You know what I did one day? Well, she went off to the loo and took so long to come out, I began to get worried. It was about 10 o'clock, my juice and mid-morning nap time. I was getting hungry and sleepy - and anxious for her, remember! I went up to the bathroom door and tried to get her to talk to me. As we chatted, I fiddled with the little bolt on the outside. It was fun. How easily it slid to and fro...

After a bit, she began to come out. About time, I thought. But what's keeping her? Why isn't the door opening? She's calling to me. Bozo, doraja ta khule de. Open the door, beta. What? She'd closed the door from the inside, not me! What was all the fuss about? Now she's yelling out of the bathroom window! Something about somebody phoning Baba.

I don't understand it. Where's my juice? I want to sleep. I begin to whimper.

Then, quite suddenly, I hear her voice from - down below. I put my face to the floor and see her fingers, poking out from under the door, from the space there! Aaye, beta. Come. Lie down on the mat. Her voice is soft and comforting. Then, my favourite lullaby wafts through the crack. Ghoom padani mashi pishi.... and I fall asleep there, on the bathroom door mat.

I think I was still sleeping when Baba got home from work, at 4 o'clock! We're lucky he was on morning shift, for otherwise he'd not have got back before 7 or 8, as was his wont. Also, lucky there hadn't been any breakdowns of those Banbury thingies that day....

And we're lucky Ma wasn't nearer her time... or Mini could have been born in the loo!

But I digress. This is not about Ma and me, it's about The Coming of My Supergirl.

A couple of weeks later, my Chitra Mashi came to stay for the duration of some course she was taking in Madras. Now this is one cool gal, but more of her another time. Her arrival was a big relief, now that I had someone to share the Mom-watching duties with me. Sometimes, I doubted how grown-up she was - who takes a near-full-term pregnant woman on boat rides, for example? - but obviously, she'd be reliable enough in a crisis.

And, on July 23rd of that year, the crisis came at midnight, just like with Cinderalla. There was this hustle and bustle, excited voices, a few groans, I think. But I just sucked harder on my pacifier and went off, back to sleep. When I woke up again, Ma and Baba weren't there. I'm not sure what I did or said, if anything, but Mashi, can you fill in for me here?

Baba came back round 8. Very pleased with himself he looked, I can tell you. Nobody told me nothing, but from their talk, I could tell I had a baby sister.

Oh, JOY! And no, I don't mean that the way Y meant it when she saw pure vegetarian food at a party she'd been invited to.

Anyway, Mashi went off to the hospital and Baba and I followed at about 10. For some strange, unfathomable reason, K. J. Hospital would not allow kids in to visit their Moms, so we had to stand outside in the grounds, below Ma's window. Mashi brought the baby to the window and held her up for me to see.

Reminiscent of Rapunzel, Rapunzel! Throw down your hair! and Oh, Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo! And what more romantic than my very first glimpse of my Supergirl, my baby sister, the one I was to grow to love even more than I loved Ma and Baba, or even myself?

Not that I could actually see her, of course. Not very clearly, at least. It was only about three years later that Ma discovered I was short-sighted. But Baba said, Oi to! Look! There's your sister. There's Mini! And the excitement and love in his voice was enough to make me full of those very sentiments!

But. Incredible! They'd already named her! And I'd still to have a name! I wasn't named until they had to choose a name for me to enroll in Dunlop School when I was three. I was still Bozo! Well, I know, I know! They'd always been decided. They'd name their first daughter after that old friend of Ma's, through who Ma and Baba had met. Mrinalini Singh, her name was.

Anyway, I was glad they'd shortened it to Mini and not to Munni, after the original. My parents are more sensible. Well, sometimes, anyway...

Two days later, Ma and Baba came home with their bundle of joy. And what a fuss they made! Mini slept in their room. Ma told me she'd move to my room when she was 4 months old. As I remember it, Ma was with her all the time! Whenever I looked, Mini was there, ín Ma's arms, and these desperate, sucking sounds, broken by intermittant, gasping breaths, would emanate almost continuously.

But was I jealous? Of course not! I'd watch fascinated when she slept in her little white, cane crib, which I had vacated only when I was 8 months old and moved to my own baby cot in my own room. I'd be in Ma's arms as the crib was on this high stand. And together we'd admire this beautiful little baby, our princess, our Supergirl...

No, I was far from jealous! A little bit insecure, maybe. My insecurity manifested itself in two ways. I began wetting my bed again and I went back to the bottle, from which I'd been weaned when I was 10 months old. Didn't seem to bother Ma that much. She seemed to take it in her stride, and just went about it as though she had just had twins. There were two sets of nappies and two sets of - what are they called? Those padded sheets Ma used to place over the rubber sheet? Kaathaa, they call it in Bengali.

And Ma had to feed two babies - can't believe I'm calling myself a baby! - at the same time. There was Mini in one arm, sucking on one of her breasts, and me in the other arm, sucking on my bottle! Both gazing up adoringly at her face, lovingly bent towards us. And more often than not, she'd be talking to ME, telling me how wonderful I was and how lucky we all were to have that gorgeous baby sister of mine with us.
I suppose Ma thought Mini was too little to understand her, and that's why she spoke to me. But Mini and I have our own language. And how she gurgles and laughs, when we share our secrets! Little does Ma know the things we say and are up to! I happily gave her my teddy bear till she got her own and even welcomed her into my cot. When she's older, she can even get on my rocking horse. But hang on! She has been on it already, in Ma's tummy!

There are other plus points too. The maid, Anjali Amma, can now stop tying my hair in ribbons, for starters!

Sorry, if this has become too long and boring, guys. I was having so much fun remembering, I just lost track of time. - And space! But if you've read thus far, obviously you love me enough to hear all about the Supergirl, who came into my life on this day of July the 23rd...

I end with a poem me and Ma wrote the other night. It's set to the tune of 'I Feel You In My Fingers ...'

My Cell Phone Mini
I see you in the morning
And as I go to bed;
You’re always there beside me
It’s like you’re in my head!
Each night when I do kiss you
I’m sure you feel it too!
I say goodnight so softly -
And do you hear that too?

You know I love you, I always will
And when I am dead, I’ll love you still
There’s no beginning, there’ll be no end
‘Cause on my love you can depend!

I see your face before me
Each time my cell phone rings
Your smile is sweet and gentle
It makes me want to sing.
Whenever I feel broken
I simply think of you -
And all I ask of heaven
Is that you keep being you…….

... and nothing to do with aptitude...

Yes, academically, they were both very differently inclined, and I remember how upset Mini used to be when her teachers would compare the two of them. And rightly so! I used to go and talk to / yell at them, my colleagues, the next day, though Mini never knew that, I think!

But we, her Ba and I never doubted her abilities. We were rather disappointed when she chose Hotel Management out of all those career options at that expo we all went to. (Do you remember it?) But we didn't let on. At least I hope we didn't....

And yes, he was the best big brother anyone could ever have, without exception. He totally, unconditionally, doted on his baby sister, from day one. The number of times he took the rap for her! (Do you remember, Mini?)

Even today, our Dunlop friends remember how he, not seven years old, would carry his school bag, Mini's school bag AND MINI, only a year and a half younger, on his back, coming back from school!

And she adored him right back, despite occasional appearances to the contrary. (What siblings don't have their disagreements?)

I remember the whole Dunlop School being abuzz one day, when I went to collect them! Must have gone to pay the school fees or collect report cards or something, as they usually came home on their own.

Anyway, the school was all abuzz, as I said before. Mrs. Mukherjee, Mini's teacher, and Mrs. D'Souza, Bozo's Class 3 Maths teacher, were supposed to be complaining to me, but they were totally amused and actually sounded approving!! They told me what had happened.

That day, Bozo'd scored 100% in a Maths test (yea, Y, nerdy even at age eight!) and two of his class-mates (one a sardarji, I remember! though that's neither here nor there...) beat him up for it. Mini was in class 2. When she got wind of this, SHE WAS LIVID. She got together a couple of friends, Pum-Pum and ... who else? All girls. Maybe someone remembers who they were! Anyway, she got them together and, armed with foot-rulers and sticks, they went to the Class 3 classroom, closed all the doors so they couldn't escape AND all the windows, presumably so the teachers wouldn't see and interrupt them, and BEAT THOSE BOYS UP.

Bozo never had trouble from them again...

It's purely academic

Ok so I've been lazy. I find it very easy to be lazy, unfortunately. But here I am, fighting my natural inclination to be a sloth, and writing about my beloved elder brother instead. ooh aren't I the sweetest :-)

Ok so I am not. He was easily the better person and certainly loved me more and showed it better too. Not that he didn't have any flaws, and we definitely had our rough patches, but he was still the best big brother ever. He's only 20 months older than me and we had the best childhood together. There are plenty of incidents from our Dunlop and Rajasthan days that I could write about and I will at some stage, but I will save them for a future post.

This one's about more recent memories... we were always close growing up, but our mid-teens did not go very well at all. We fought a lot; he became a domineering and controlling big brother all of a sudden, a complete change from the mild-mannered boy who had let me boss over him all my life, and I have to say I truly hated him for a while back then.

Thankfully that phase didn't last forever. He finished school and left for BITS (Birla Institute of Technology and Science), Pilani, many miles away, and came back after his first semester a changed guy. He wanted to be friends again, but as my parents (and some of my exes!!) know only too well, I am incredibly stubborn and find it quite easy to be coldly unforgiving. So it took 2 more trips and numerous pleas to be forgiven before I finally "deigned" to do so and we were back to being best of friends just like that. (Although I continued to remind him every now and again about how mean he had been to me, and he would be suitably contrite each time!)

By this time I was nearing the end of Year 12 at school, and Bozo, who was quite happy at BITS, wanted me to join him there, never mind that I was too lazy and/or not smart enough to get in. He would keep looking up courses he thought I might enjoy, but while I did like the idea of studying at the same University as him, I had no illusions about my intelligence/academic commitment, and decided to study Hotel Management instead. While this decision did disappoint him a little, and he continued to try and "sell" BITS to me each time I visited, he quickly progressed to being highly enthusiastic about my hoteliering achievements.

Like the time I happened to come first in my Cookery Finals in my First Year (purely by chance, seriously... my Professor was as surprised as I was). Despite knowing the full story, Dada went and boasted about his "talented" little sister to his friends, which I discovered on a subsequent trip to Pilani around Diwali with my parents, elder Aunt and cousin Manu. During this visit, some friends of his were cooking Tandoori chicken, and Dada told them very confidently that I would be able to tell them exactly what to do, being the culinary expert I was. I vaguely remember a disagreement over how long the chicken should be marinated for, and Dada laughed at them for not listening to me. A few hours later, I was embarrassed when the friends said quite smugly (and justifiably so) that the chicken had turned out just fine, but he insisted it would have been far better if they had followed my instructions.

The best big brother ever, as I said.

Note: I would like to assure everyone (especially my mother!) that I do not suffer from low self-confidence/self-esteem. It's just that there was an undeniably large difference between our levels of intelligence, coupled with the fact that he quite liked studying, whereas I had no interest in it whatsoever until I went for my MBA. So while theoretically I could have gained admission into BITS, it certainly wouldn't have been as effortless as it was for him, and I most definitely did not want to work hard enough for it. And that's ok too.