MS.SHRUTHI C MOHAN, THE HEARTFELT TALKATHON

Among girls, there are those who talk, there are those who don't and then, the unique species of Talkathons. Once they start, they pause for the occasional breath and to giggle at the SMS. Before you could make your escape, they have caught you. You have no other choice but to meekly surrender and listen. I did. To Shruthi.
As cousins, we grew up together, and even went to the same school. Shruthi is younger to me by 3-4 years, but she makes up for it in intelligence. She, like many women in the family, joins the 'powerpuff girls league'.
I never expected that she would join engineering (and talk gibberish which all my engineering friends do). It feels proud when you see your loved one mature from a little girl to a young adult. It feels even better if they turn out smarter than you.
My knees are all black and hard, like that of a camel, thanks to the games we played as kids. I used to be down on all fours and pretend to be a dog, a tiger or some circus freak show. She was the "master". Never did i allow for an exchange of roles, not out of love though; at that age, it was all about jealousy and dominance. Part of the games involved putting my mum in siesta mode. This was to ensure that the coast was clear to play as much as we liked. Mum frowned at the childish games and at my dirty knees.
It was a right of passage for every child in our household to fall down the wooden stairs. And the other kid was blamed. Shruthi fell. So did i. Unconsciousness followed. A general dose of massage with ice cream for one, while the other was scolded and kept in detention. Fighting was part and parcel of our childhood. And the kid Shruthi, for important reasons, had to kept out of the two-man cricket match we played. Reason One. She was a girl. Two. She used to ask for a second chance when she got out. Three. That horrible crying and moaning if she was kicked out. Me and my other cousin were left to face her mum and her serious disapproval of our behavior. Once, it had got really bad and little Shruthi wailed and wept the whole afternoon, standing outside my room. Looking back, it was really stupid on my part to hurt her.
But time heals all wounds. We have shared more joys and she has supported me and our family at our time of need. True. Family never turns their back on you. And Shruthi has been the backbone of ours .
Her talkathons still continue. Her hairstyles' change faster than the seasons. She is the cynosure of any party or function she goes to. She is the appointed Fashion Godmother of all the girls in the family, of which we have quite a few and counting! Her warmth of heart still keeps us from freezing in loneliness.
A true INDIVIDUAL.