Happy Birthday Rima

20th July.

Rima's birthday.

Rima, my cousin sister, two months elder to me, now a mother of an energetic 2 year old son, proprietress of a children's play school in Kolkata, a loving wife and all the rest.

Rima used to live 4/5 houses away from mine. We used to scream at each other across the houses when not in each other's company. Rest of the time she used to be in my house which was her mamarbari (grandparents' house). She would come every afternoon and we would get together with our serious business of playing.

Elders say Rima and me, we took to each other like ducks to water from a very young age. While she learned to speak very early, I was mute till the age of three. So all I did so to sit and watch Rima talking away to glory. On her part Rima would try her best to coax me to talk.

Till early 20s, Rima accompanied me, my parents and my brother everywhere we went. I could never imagine going to a park or a fair or any friends/relatives houses without her. It was a known thing if I go somewhere so would Rima.

Rima is the nearest I got to having a twin. We have had some amazing times growing up together. We really did not need other friends, we knew how to have good time, just the two of us. I hardly remember having any serious fights, she always used to come and try to make-up and I used to relent cos without her chatter life used to get boring.

Of course we are totally different kinds of people, she a Cancerain to her core while me a seesawing Libra. While she would talk nineteenth to the dozen and chum up almost any stranger, I would engross myself in a book and be as non-committal and tactician as possible. I can vouch Rima has never in her life read even a page of any story book. I am sure she would not even read this. She is someone for whom studying/reading are activities done under extreme duress.

My mother and Rima, got along really well, both friendly and talkative souls, their hanging place being our veranda, from where they would be discussing every soul living in the area. Sometimes they would try to drag me into the conversation, but I would be lost reading how Enid Blyton's Five Find Outers were trying escape from the secret house. I had no interest what our neighbour Sharmaji's wife cooked for lunch that day. So I would just shoo them away.

We went to different schools, but knew each other's friends. She was always falling in love with someone or the other. It used to be my duty to talk sense to her, which she did promptly accept. Then she did fall in love seriously, much against the wishes of everyone around. She stopped studying as a rebellion of sorts, I filled in doing her home work for her at times, providing all the necessary support for rendezvous with her boy friend, talking sense to her wild ideas etc.

Over the years we drifted apart, she getting busy with marriage (yes she did marry her boy friend) and me with my career. Somehow the connection we shared while growing up got lost along the way.

Today suddenly on her birthday it is all coming back to me. And I realise how ever much you grow apart from a person, memories are difficult to shrug off.

N.B. Picture googled.