When we were young, my sister was my baby. I can safely say, nothing much changed over the years. My mother would make me sit, aalti-paalti, and place this little chubby ball with the face of a cabbage-patch doll onto my lap. I could barely sit cross-legged as my legs were too short for such an elaborate pose, but I held still because I really wanted to play with her and this was the only way. I realized then that she was my baby, an adorable and boisterous fireball, always on the hunt for an adventure, and more food.
And then fast forward two decades and I found myself in a different role. I became not the big sister, but the bride’s sister. And began the three most fun, hectic, emotional, overwhelming and responsibility-inducing weeks of my life. Watching my little sister talk about words like ‘shadi ka jora’ and ‘in laws’ left me taken aback quite a bit. My parents smiled at my inability to see her as a grown up, but do you blame me? This is the person I used to play adda adda with, her running in a long nighty, huffing and puffing but determined to win. The same little girl who told the world she was a princess, with utter seriousness.
But the time had come for me to step up and play the part of the older sister, and boy, was it hard. Beyond just the responsibility, was the overwhelming sense of making sure it was perfect. And demanding perfection can give you some sleepless nights I tell you. However, through the screaming matches, crazy DJs (translation: an inept DJ, wrong music being played for the dances, and our entrance being stalled for what seemed an eternity), learning a complicated dance, running around for a pair of pink pajamas and bad makeup jobs, it was a great 3 weeks.