Another one of the many come backs...

This is one more of the many comebacks that I will be having not with regard to this blog only but about many other things in life, I am sure. For someone who can’t sit still for a second I think I will have to come back to things and places and situations a lot more than others, just to mend it. But this is the new year, which is one more reason I thought maybe I should make amends and come back to something that means a lot for my cousin, besides it being a healthy exercise for me to embark upon.  What can I say? I am the perfect example of the kid of this generation. I am more comfortable typing in my thoughts to the blank sheet on the computer screen than penning them down for posterity. Of course, just like the delete button, there is also always the option of crumpling the piece of paper and throwing it into the waste basket (and imagining one awesome basketball shot for my own mental records). So I have come back to it almost like the prodigal son and I am sure the ever welcoming virtual world will welcome me with open arms. I know my cousin will. She has been too patient with me.

To come to my present status, I am quite older now with some issues regarding my body weight, which has come to worry my parents I can see. Hence, every evening I am packed off to the gym class and then karate class every alternative days. Thankfully, Dad has figured it out that singing is not really something that is cut out for me. So after slogging in school for a day and then these extra-curricular activities and then the days’ homework and lesson I am dog tired to even wish goodnight to my siblings. But then I am not using this as an excuse to not write. It is not that I haven’t been doing anything else.

There has been a significant change in the family now. Mum has got a job and so most of the time we come back home and take care of ourselves for the first couple of hours till my sister comes, who keeps an eye on me till Mum comes. One might think that an arrangement like this might make us feel a little left out and urged to fend for ourselves. However, for us it is something that any kid would love to enjoy. You come back from school and the entire house is all yours. For that small span of time you are the king of the house! Well, there is always this power struggle between me and my siblings, but then at the bottom of our hearts I think we all relish that whole sense of complete insane freedom!

As for the usual updates, I am persevering with my sitar practices. My twin has started learning playing the keyboard. My sister, remains the storehouse of talent and has recently topped her class!

First Day and on...

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.