Shaily

Every one who knows me knows her. At least everyone with whom I have had even a single personal conversation has heard of her .Every friend who calls me up even if it is after 10 long years always asks me how she is doing.

She is my lifeline. She is best thing that has happened to me and she happened at a time when I was so young that I don’t even recollect it now. The farther my memory goes is of her wearing a short green frock and sporting a pony tail which I would pull when ever mummy was not looking.

My primary school was very near to my house and I would walk to the school every day with my neighborhood teacher. And Shaily was there every day holding my hand or tugging at my skirt to see me off till the colony gate( This never changed even as years changed even as colonies gave way to societies and blocks and cities). I felt so proud and confident on being able to take care of her.

She would hide in my lap when ever mummy was in a do-not-spare-the-rod mood. She would wear all my hand me downs and look so boastful. We played all sorts of made up games where I created the rules and twisted them in my favor whenever I was loosing . we studied together, ate together, slept together, grew up together. I as the elder one ordered her around , bullied her, teased her till she cried , made every attempt to eat her share of goodies, called her names , helped her with her maths, spanked her when she wouldn’t understand the formulae. In spite of the monster I sound like I loved her and protected her and pampered her.

What inspired this particular post is the fact that she hates reading and doesn’t really care for blogging thing. I thought so until yesterday when she told me that she went through my blog on here own(every time I write a post I coax her to read it and grill comments out of her). So I m writing this to let her know whenever she browes past my blog next, that I love her. I adore her like I adore no one else.

Shaily, by now those who don’t know me must have guessed is my sweet little sister. She as I would say in technical terms is my metadata. She knows exactly whether I mean a yes or a no even when I say ‘no’ to something. She knows exactly what I want to buy even though my stingy self would not let me go for it. She knows exactly the points she needs to press when ever I m down with head ache and she knows exactly how to calm me down whenever I let go of my temper.

Now a days whenever the recession blues hit me and I tell her I wouldn’t know what to do if I were to be handed a pink slip, she looks at me bewildered and says as a matter of fact “how can u not get a job? You are so intelligent.” And I believe her. I have to because I want to live up to the idol like persona she associates me with.

I am glad for the bond that we share and the emotional fulfillment that she brings to me. As I shuffle through her cupboard, I see old dresses, hair clips, nail paints lipsticks, which once belonged to me and which she could not bring herself to throw. I know for sure if that if ever the entire world were to turn against me one person would still be there walking along with me holding my hand or tugging at my skirt.

I am high on confidence again . The world is at my feet again.