It seems like only yesterday Rekha was waiting for me in the school bus, beaming at me, saving a seat for both me and my brother Kundan, though she herself didn’t mind standing. She never had any qualms about handing us over all the toffees that she received from her friends. I always wondered how anyone could be so magnanimous and munificent at the age of nine.
During our school days, I would reach home, worn out from the bland classes, only to hear her dynamically natter about the events and problems in her class, which made me marvel how anyone’s class could be so interesting, how so many things could happen in anyone’s class every single day! She has to be the most loquacious person in the family. Although her gossips always managed to keep me amused, there were times when I would just brush her aside by telling her how exasperated I was of her teenybopper tales. That would be enough for her to keep sulking for the rest of the day. Though we hardly used to fight, rubbing her the wrong way always resulted in her tantrums. Being the peacemaker I was, I always made it a point to extend the olive branch to her. We got along like a house on fire, always keeping each other engaged with side-splitting stories and cracking up irrationally. But even when I was not interested, I had no choice but to patiently lend her my ears.
I vaguely remember an incident that happened when I was eight. It was a bright Sunday afternoon and Monzy (a nickname given to her by yours truly) was taking a catnap. I was lying lazily on the bed, flipping through a magazine which had a picture of the stunning Madhuri Dixit with her fringed hairdo. Coincidentally, my eyes wandered off to a small pair of scissors lying right next to me on the table. An evil, impish idea struck my mind. After picking up the scissors I moved surreptitiously towards her head, gently pulled out a streak of her mane just above the forehead. CHOP! Rekha opened her eyes slowly, waking up from her profound slumber only to find some of the detached hair lying on her face. She yarely caressed her face, gaped in disbelief at the chopped off curls which were now clutched in her bony hand.
All hell broke loose! Her metamorphosis into a lioness roaring with ire left a lump in my throat. A teary-eyed, shrill Monzy ran hither and thither, her hand firmly held to the fringes of the hair which almost reached her eyebrows. Parents were fuming. Mother’s eyes filled with repugnance for me and empathy for her daughter. No amount of consoling could stop Rekha from bawling. In the midst of all the chaos, Kundan was sitting in the alcove, smirking and giving me a ‘you-are-in-big-trouble-Mister’ look. My heart was loaded with remorse and despondency, my head was hung in shame for the abominable sin I had committed. I couldn’t look eye to eye with anyone.
After a few hours, when she had seemingly calmed down, I diffidently went up to her; and beseeched her forgiveness. Okay, that’s a lie. After the sunset, she herself decided to call a truce. My heart finally started beating again; I breathed a sigh of relief. It was thwarting for me to look into her face when I realized that fringes go only with straight hair and not with curly hair. She had to wear a particular hair band to school for a few months. I still taunt her whenever I see her snap with that hairdo.
I don’t know if I could have forgiven someone that easily. That is the best thing about her; she never holds a grudge against someone for long. Not always was she kind and loving. Her volatile mood swings can sometimes make it really difficult to deal with her. Especially when ever she doesn’t get to have her evening tea, she transforms into a cantankerous beast. She is a neatness freak who starts yelling and yapping at anyone who fails to put things back to where they belong. Whenever I was pissed off with her, I would mess up everything in the room just to drive her bananas. Even though she is almost two years older than me, both her younger brothers made sure she was treated like our younger sibling.
I still love peeving her by imitating her and pulling her leg. She is the best cook in the house. Her magical hands have never refused to make me my favorite Sooji Ka Halwa and Beetroot Pulao with lemon pickles. I realized her value only when I started living alone and had to wash all my clothes by myself. How I miss watching her grumble while doing the dishes every evening! I and Kundan used to take the pleasure out of mimicking the usual ferocious fights between her and Rakhi regarding the division of the household chores.
It’s been almost two years since I last met her. Absence does make the heart grow fonder. It’s inexplicable how grateful I am to her for the unfathomable love she has bestowed upon me.
Thank you, Monz. Thank you for everything.
Wishing You A VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
If I had been with her today, she would have griped about not getting her a present.
PS: This was in compensation for the gift I have failed to send her this year as well.
I hope I have made up for that.
