or rather
"Hell-lo jee"
That is how I greet my dear sister on phone. She has started living in a hostel now, after having lived 20+ years under the watchful eyes of my parents. So, I am sort of a senior to her. I can give her gyan about how to manage her daily life. To stay away from the disturbing elements. To go straight from home to college and back. To ignore the whistling guy, especially if he is wearing the traffic policeman's dress. To slap when required, to flee when necessary.
I am kinda missing her. Haven't talked to her in many days. I feel sinful when I do that. But then again, I must allow her to settle into her own rhythm. Enjoy the girls' parties, make new friends and live her life her own way, in whatever restricted way it is her own. I don't want her to feel that she is being monitored. But I do grow anxious about her. I worry, which is surprising if you think that she is 3 years elder to me. But I have been living in hostels for 9 years and she, for less than a month.
Sometimes, it is surprising how great an impact a single telephone call can have on you. I call her up and I feel happy. I narrate all the details about all the girls I have met since I last called her, the number of hours I talk to each of them on an average and other such things. She likes to hear such stuff. It makes her feel that her brother has grown up finally. He is no more the guy who would hide behind his mother's palloo at the slightest mention of girls of his age.
So what if he hides his mirror cracking looks behind the great label of IIMA. So what if he sports the IIMA tee to airports, treats and almost every venture outside the campus. At least he's trying.
Talking of momentous calls, I really can't help thinking about two calls. The first one was a call from Sweety. She was mightily angry, and it was clear that our journey was coming to an end. We looked like two travellers who were going their seperate ways, and were bidding the final goodbye. That made the whole atmosphere a little bitter. Both of us had grudges against this weird thing called life.
Unfortunately, it led to a conversation I never thought I would have with any living form ever. But I did. I mostly gave her the silent treatment. But deep inside, every word of hers was piercing me. Hurting me like nothing before had. I wondered why it had be so bitter! It doused all hopes of any salvage or rescue mission.
Swaaha!
The next call I can't forget was Strato's. This was in a little strange setting as well. I had been acting mightily stupid in the last few days. I was sad at all the developments around me. Saying goodbye to a cherished friend isn't the kind of thing you joke about. But the call was momentous.
[Strato, if and when you read this, without belittling the importance of that call, I must thank you. You don't need to acknowledge that I am saying this. ]
I sometimes wonder what would have happened if she hadn't called up. People exchange pleasantries and move on. Life moves on. Time flows by. But some memories stick. Like that weird thing on every alien's forehead in the old DD1 serial Zigma.
The call brought the process of moving on to a halt. I don't think we discussed matters of national importance. But on the scale in which my life lies, that was historical. Once in a long long time, you get this soothing feeling. Like drinking cold ice-cube filled water after a day's vrat. I felt that. The importance of those conversations is magnified by the passage of time. When I realise what was at stake and what would have been lost if my phone had gone dead then.
I don't even think this description makes sense. In a nutshell, the size of Strato's brain, she made that day worthwhile with a simple call.
["How mean of you... you thank me and malign me in the same breath! Hunh" - "But wait, I am not Shankar Mahadevan. I took five full gasps as I said this! Hunh Hunh Hunh" ]
Three messages - "Whats your number", "6063" and "tring tring tring" [No, it was only half a tring. I was waiting to pounce on the receiver!] later, those words flowed. Thanks again.
[You won't ever think I am being extra nice to you for no reason, will you!?]
So what if I insist that she has a brain the size of a peanut. Poke fun at just about everything she says. Disturb her at the oddest hours possible. Call her quirk, scary and other names. Threaten her with dire consequences.
You know na, I am a nice, momma's boy.
I wash my hair with shampoo and put Vatika nariyal tel. And then comb my hair straight. Like I was taught when I was 10. I still enjoy eating ice cubes and ignoring nana's warning. Even the memory of his toothless smile doesn't scare me. I like to end my meals with a couple of teaspoonfuls of undiluted lemon juice. The list of such quirky things that I do can exhaust the blog server's storage capacity.
I won't even try.
Because even though I screw my body clock, I am a good boy. And I want to stay under this illusion.
Sahi bola na jee?
No comments:
Post a Comment