It was lunch time and I ran down
the stairs to reach the playground. I was late already and I didn’t want her to
wait. It was our ritual. She would come to me and ask for her tiffin box.
Short, small, tiny and cute as a doll with two pony tails adorned with ribbons,
would perhaps be the best way to describe her. Every day she would take her
tiffin box from me and run to her friends. They would sit in a circle and have
lunch out of their Barbie tiffin boxes talking about leprechauns and teddy
bears. So that day too I stood at the designated corner waiting but there was
no sign of her. It was then that I saw a crowd in front of her classroom. I saw
the headmistress along with a number of senior students standing there, all
talking to someone who appeared to be just about a quarter of their height. For
some reason, I felt an urgency to run there. So I did and there she was
standing with an amused expression as everyone around her seemed to be busy
reprimanding her. There she was, my baby sister, my precious possession!
But I couldn’t let anyone talk to
her like that. The headmistress surely but not the other snooty pricks called
seniors, especially when she was not even half their size. So I pushed and
dashed through the crowd and stood next to her. I held her with one hand and
looked straight in their eyes. My sister was not some tiny witch that they could
have the pleasure of punishing. She was just a child and to get to her they would
have to get through me first. I asked them, rather demanded them to tell me
what my princess had done that justified this harassment of a four year old by
so many seniors. Truth be told, I was scared too. After all I was just eight! But
still nobody talks to my sister like that, atleast not when I’m around.
So this was what my little accused
had done. She had painted flowers and leaves with a green sketch pen (yes I
remember it was green) on her friend’s face. Oh I remember it vividly! Actually,
her friend, Akanksha I think her name was, looked kind of cute. Akanksha wanted
to borrow her sketch pens and in return of that she had offered to let my sister
draw on her face. Crazy little kids I say! A perfectly legal agreement between
four year olds I suppose. Nothing to overreact on!
Now if her friend would be crying,
I could understand the crucifixion of my sister, well not really. But since her friend was happy and admiring the new creepers on
her face, I couldn’t really see the problem. Certainly the headmistress had
every right to scold my sister but not surround her with a bunch of goons as if
she had permanently tattooed her friend’s face. So I stood there fighting my
sister’s case. I knew it in my heart that this was what I was born to do. Save
her, protect her and if need be fight with anyone and everyone for her. I don’t
remember exactly what happened after that but I do recall taking her out of
there and sitting next to her as she enjoyed her lunch with the very friend she
had drawn on. Even at that age, I knew I would never let anyone harm her.
Never, ever! And if I could just take a leaf out of Liam Neeson’s Taken, I would say to anyone who dare
hurt her that ‘I don't care who you are.
I don't care what you want. But if you hurt my sister, I will look for you, I
will find you, and I will kill you too if needed.’ Too much? Not at all!
This was the first of many fights I
got into for her. And believe me I will gladly do that every remaining day of
my life. Even today when she is working and living alone in a different city I
have this urge of fighting for her when anybody in her office says her
anything. My whole body literally burns and shivers with anger when anyone
hurts her. I know she can fight her own battles now. But I just can’t help
being this over protective elder sister. And these memories make me even more
defensive when it comes to anything about her. Well, she is my princess, my
baby sister. I guess it’s normal! Isn’t it?
She’s ‘MY PERSON’! Who’s yours?