My Sister Naima

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I, Poonu, was born after Naima within a short span of 1 year and 3 months. Both of us grew up together holding each other's hands. Although we were brought up together, we had different behavioral attributes. And also we completely looked different, thus challenging our sisterhood of belonging to the exact same lineage often by  friends and strangers and regarded us friends rather than siblings. And much later when our youngest sister was born, we were prejudiced of growing up ladies looking divergent.

Naima was very naughty and thinner to a much greater extent, often blaming her constricted growth on me whose sudden birth took away Naima's birth rights of getting feeded by our mother after a few months of her birth. Ofcourse, then she would not understand my mother's reason of not feeding her properly during pregnancy but much later when she would understand science, in her teenage, she would frustatingly blame our mother upon her not gaining the required weight and womanly body on time as compared to me and her friends. I was a plumpy , non-chaotic toddler, on the other hand.  

When I was 5 years old, she was 6 years and 3 months old. On a weekday after coming back from our playschool, we decided to play a game with kitchen utensils made of plastics for children. There was an almirah made of cement and bricks inside our bedroom. It had no doors and was kept empty for some reasons better known to our parents. Naima would often go inside it without any difficulty and so would come out of it easily because of her petite structure. On that very day, she being the elder decided to send me inside for cooking. I hesitated for a long time because of my rotund and tubby stature. But because of her confidence on me as well as my inner wish to go inside once, and also that she was there to protect me of any mishaps, I pushed myself inside this fixed almirah. After spending a considerable time inside it; cooking and playing, I chose to come out and that it was Naima's turn now. To my horror, I kept on pushing myself from inside to be thrown out, but it was in vain. I was stuck.

Naima, tried too. The unsuccessful attempts were followed by a series of shouts and cries. Naima, who was confident of pulling me outside earlier, now was panicky.  She rushed to bang the doors of bathroom, inside which my mother was taking her bath. My mother too tried all her means, but was of not any good.  She was in trepidition too. My father was at office and mobile phones were not available in 1980s. Hurriedly, the terrified lady knocked all the doors of our neighbors houses.  Few uncles rushed for my rescue. It was decided to break the almirah but with a fear, if the bricks and mortar would hurt me badly. Me on the other hand was half conscious and Naima was standing at the corner, without knowing her next moves. She too was crying and anxious. 

Two uncles decided to give a final try before the almirah was broken down. They pulled me with force. I was hurt and bruised but had no other way than tolerating this pain. Finally, I was rescued out. The uncles were thanked.  All left. 

And Naima? She was threatened if ever she would try any stunt on me, she would be sent to boarding school. I got a second life. 

This was the first stunt I faced in my life but not the last because Naima never gave up on me.



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