My Very Own Miss India

She was a tiny bundle of joy when I first saw her. She was so totally immersed in her brand new world and from time to time she would give me a tiny little glance. One such time she looked at me with her twinkling eyes and smiled. I think that is when we made our connection (like Shahrukh and Madhuri in Dil to Pagal Hai, even though not quite in the same way!!!).

She came into my life like a fresh wave of magic. I was a mere 10 year old schoolgirl and she was a cute little doll that changed my world, a new form of amusement that I had just discovered. My imaginary world of dolls and gudda-guddis had a new gudiya. They lived right across the street from us, so I’d find every pretext under the world to go over to their place to play with my new found treasure.

As she started growing up, I had this surreal experience of motherhood. She was my little baby and she loved me like no one else in the world and I loved her back equally if not more. She loved me with such childlike enthusiasm, so unconditionally that I would be ready to give up anything for her. I would proudly show her off to all my friends, she would sing songs and nursery rhymes, dance and prance like a beauty queen, singing an Indian pop song “Banoongi mai Miss India” which was her favorite at that time. I would teach her songs and carols and she would watch me over awed when I stand in front of the mirror and dance. Her incessant banter was the major source of entertainment for me and my friends. She would come up to me everyday with one new question or one new request and flurry of “things to do”. The list was endless but easy to fulfill. They were simple things like, “I want to look like a princess today”, “I want to go out for a walk with you and your friends today”, “Can we please go and buy that orange candy?” She did not care about rich chocolates or creamy ice cream shakes – she always wanted to eat that inexpensive piece of junk sold on the street, or her favorite was my mom’s fish curry rice and if she didn’t find that she would just eat rice with paprika powder and yogurt. She didn’t care about playing with the innumerable toys that she had at home, all she cared about was to come and play with me and my little sister and the kids of all the construction workers. All these were the fancies of the only daughter of one of the premier industrialists from my hometown.

Such was the love and magic that she brought to my life. She had such absolute faith in me that she would never believe anyone if they told her that I said something about her or that I made fun of her. There was this time, all my cousins and me were staying together during one summer break. We were a pack of naughty brats and we could go to any lengths to get a laugh out of something. As we were all taking our afternoon naps, a few of us woke up and decided to paint the faces of the rest of them who were asleep. And She was one of them. I painted whiskers on her cheeks and waited for her to wake up and discover. I didn’t mean for it to be such a nasty thing, it was just done in a flow. She woke up and all my bratty cousins bawled away to glory making her feel miserable. She didn’t have a clue about what was going on. She went to the mirror and saw whiskers painted on her face. She asked to know who the culprit was, and everyone pointed out to me. And She vehemently shook her head and said my chechi will never do this to me. (Chechi is a respectful way of addressing an elder sister). And I told her that I did, she refused to believe me, I then convinced her it was me, you should have seen the look on her face. I have never felt like a traitor like this before, I had betrayed her trust and she was so crestfallen. Ofcourse I made it up to her later, but her unflinching trust in me suffered such a big blow that day and I guess I learnt my lesson then.

Today she is all of sixteen, and has blossomed into a beautiful young lady with her own charming personality and a string of suitors lining up behind her. Tears well up in my eyes, when I realize that her incoherent banter has now changed to meaningful conversations that are sometimes indeed so profound. I swell up with pride when I listen to her beautiful voice singing “Come Away With Me” which could give Norah Jones a run for her money. And when I saw her dancing this time to “Babuji zara dheere chalo” I was dumbstruck. She has surpassed herself in everything I knew she did. And today it has come to a full circle and it’s my turn to sit and watch her do all the things she watched me do with such innocent curiosity.

I bet everyone has experiences similar to this, maybe not the exact same way but close. We all have juniors, little sisters, nieces, nephews who idolize us at some point of time. And truly, what joy it brings!!! Sometimes that belief in you is enough to make you go on during the toughest of the times, Sometimes it’s the only thread you hold on to, Sometimes it’s the only thing that you are left with. My relationship with my niece has been a source of great inspiration and motivation for me oft a time. I was chatting with her today and it reminded me of all those beautiful times when we both drew our strength from each other in our own quaint way. I would give anything to go back to those days and relive the whole thing over and yeah this time I won’t paint her face while she is sleeping.