I remember you as a tiny bean inside Amma’s belly. In the evening we used to take short strolls in the terrace of our Chevayur home, which was a single storey house at that time. Deechechi came up with a fun game to guess the baby’s gender. We will knock on the Amma’s pregnant tummy and ask “ Boy or Girl?” and if you (who was of course super- intelligent to understand the question) kicked once then you were a boy. Deechechi will go first and I will follow suit.
You have well narrated the story of your birth in your own words before; how Amma’s water broke and you swam out like a champion into the new world. I remember overhearing that Amma was taken to Baby Memorial Hospital that day. Anija aunty called that day to ask which Baby Memorial it was (was it the one next to the beach or the other one?). Even though I didn’t know the answer to the question, I confidently said it was the one next to the beach as it sounded more fun. I remember visiting the hospital to see you for the first time. I was more excited to see the doorknobs in the ward; looked very different from the door handles we had home. Ironically, I don’t have a lot of memories of seeing you or holding you that day; but I am sure I cuddled you with loads of hugs and kisses as I was always a dedicated older sister.
Thus, we became a family of five. Pappa’s bullet bike was our family’s official locomotive. It appalls me now picturing all of us sitting tight on that two-seater. I will be sitting in front of Pappa holding tight to the heavy steel lid that closes the fuel tank; Deechechi will be right behind Papa, arms wrapped around his waist and Amma will be behind Deechechi carrying you in her lap and simultaneously balancing her posture holding to the rear handle of the bike. I remember our ride on the bullet to ‘Photoshop’ for our first family picture as five. You might wonder why I look cross-eyed in the picture. I was trying to look sideways to make sure you were looking at the camera; while looking straight at the same time.
Although I was always eager to hold you and carry you around, I was a bit disappointed that Appa and Papa seemed to trust Deechechi more than me (understandably I was only 5 years at that time). Deechechi would carry you around pretending to be a queen (wearing Amma’s vesti half saree; hair tied as a bun to one side). My role in this pretend play was as ‘Poothana’ the ghost who steals the baby from her. Since I was just a ghost, I didn’t need any fancy costumes. I still agreed to participate as stealing the baby meant I could hold you for some time. Deechechi would gracefully walk around singing a lullaby like in movies and finally put you to sleep when I can finally do my part of stealing the baby. However, as Deechechi is the script writer; the play would end right after I steal the baby. Of course, we never played the game after that day since I declined to be Poothana without any incentive.
I wanted you to have things that I didn’t have as a child. One of the items included a pet name. After much contemplation I came up with ‘Ikkilikuttan’ aka ‘Tickle baby’-( better than the name you had chosen for the mall you were going to build when you grow up-‘Hernia’). I called you by this name for a couple of days; however, Deechechi once overheard the name and condemned my poor choice. I was discouraged and told myself that you should stay as Mathews.
Having a baby brother means you could be my guinea pig to answer all the science questions that pops up in my inquisitive brain- What happens to a person’s eyes when sleeping? ( Are the eye balls up, down, or do they recede to secret cave inside your brain?). Like every other older sibling, I had to tell you the sad fact that we got you wrapped up in a blanket in the little creek behind our house and you don’t truly belong to our family. Amma/Papa decided to keep you only because we had no boys. My heart would swell up with sadistic satisfaction as your eyes welled with tears.
When you started kindergarten, I would rush to the nursery side of Presentation during every break to make sure you were doing ok. You would often burst out in tears and was rightfully nick named as “Kannuneerpainkili”. Being a responsible big sister meant that I had to judiciously scavenge your bag every day for any evidence of low test scores . You became a pro in discovering new hiding places ( I couldn’t use the Hindi answer paper that I found a year later in our enormous Malayalam dictionary to black mail you).
I would often extensively talk to you about all I have don’t for you as a baby; from cuddling and feeding to changing your diaper and how it was time for you to pay me back for my hard work. You would sincerely bring part of the birthday treats that you get at school as my reward. I was so grateful to have a brother who disliked chocolates and ice creams. I still remember you excitedly running to my 9th grade classroom with foreign chocolates that Rugbaz had shared with you (they were delicious).
I would often hold your little hand close to mine and ask myself “Will these tiny fingers ever grow? It will take ages!”. You were secretly listening to me and in the last three decades you grew not just long fingers; but also over six feet tall. From pillow/blanket fights to sudoku races (you always won) I have countless warm memories to cherish with you. I feel blessed to have you in my life.
PS: This was written as a gratitude exercise on my birthday. What better way to feel grateful than reminisce my childhood memories with you!
Wishing you and Nitha a wonderful and blessed life ahead!
