Oh that day was one heck of a day. Well at least that was what I was told. My mum was rushed to the hospital with the first alarm. Talking about alarms, I have often wondered how does one get to hear the alarm. I mean, an alarm is an alarm, right? It should make a hell lot of noise and at least someone (like me who has quite an ear for any kind of alarms having created so many myself) should get to hear it. But no, nothing of the sort really happens. Anyway, coming back to my story (which of course is not exactly first hand, I must admit, having been handed down to me from my Mum), I recall of course a strong smell of something that filled the entire room, the very same smell that hit me when I was taken to the O.T. for stitching up my finger.
Mum says that doctors force the babies to cry as soon as they are born and I can bet on my life that that day I could well hear not just one but two voices screaming out loud. Well that was quite a pair we made, my sister and I – the troublesome twins, the storm after the silence (my eldest sibling, who is a darling I must say).
Then the next few days I heard quite a few voices all sounding that they were coochy-cooing with me or my sister. I was one selfish brat even then. Didn’t like it at all when they showered too much of attention to my twin. I would throw my arms up in the air, at least tried to make it look that way with all the cloth that was wrapped around me, and threw a fit. My sister was the quieter one that way, only that now I realize that she had very cunningly left me alone as she knew that the next whatever years are left of my life, it will be payback time for me.
But of all the voices that I heard, there was always that special voice that calmed me every time it cooed sweet nothings into my ears, or those soft caring arms that held me close. I could hear her heart-beat and it was right then that I had decided that I would also set my heart beat at the same rhythm. There was also another voice which sounded quite younger than the others and I loved playing around that finger that I usually associated with that voice.
Slowly there were pictures in my life! There was that heavenly smiling lady whose eyes seemed to never leave my sight. Then there was that playful finger who turned out to be my older sister. There was also a deep voice that sounded awful proud when he talked about me. It didn’t take me long to figure that this was my family – my Mum, older sister, Dad and oh yeah my twin too.
My granny says that the first sight of me that she remembers is nothing but a bundle of cloths that wrapped the tiny body that slept peacefully without a care in the world. I have a confession here to make – I must say that I am terribly jealous of that tiny baby wrapped in rolls of cloth than this ten year old giving his worldly advice on everything around him. It’s like I have a huge weight that I carry around on my back; the funny thing is nobody can see that huge whatever that weighs me down so much. But I guess that’s one of the prices you pay of growing up.
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