The Wall welcomes another person on board, Samiksha Gupta. Love and accept the amazing person that she is. Try and connect to her story.
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Every year, in my hometown August would rush in with showers of rain interrupted by the warm sun. Bushes of roses punctuated with wild grass.
Nature ornamented every patch of land pleasing eyes everywhere. This would mark the beginning of a festive season of in everyone’s lives.
Yet, all of this could not cheer up a four-year kid’s heart. By the end of the very first week itself, she wasn’t able to take it anymore and a streak of tear rolled down her cheek, just like the streams that emerged from between round and shiny rocks above the hill.
Her many friends tried to cheer her up. Her loving parents would take her out for shopping and buy her new clothes and toys but the sight of decorated shops all around her would further dampen her spirits.
And on the day of Rakshabandhan, she would refuse to leave her house. She wanted to avoid facing all the girls and guys who’d be proudly showing off their gifts and wearing bands of love around their wrists. She was a single child- a beloved, yet single child.
This story repeated itself year after year until one fine day her mother said, “Sweetie, soon you’ll have a younger sibling.” She put her little hands on her mother’s baby bump.
“Come soon, baby brother”, she said kissing it.
“How do you know it’s a brother?”
“I just do!” she winked and her mother smiled.
And she wasn’t wrong after all.
On November 28, 2005 she held her little brother for the first time in her hands. They were not so little anymore. Those tiny eyes stopped her heart and at that instant she knew that never again would the month of August be gloomy.
Months passed by and the rains set in again.
The sun glowed.
Grass grew in crevices.
The streams flowed too.
Her parents took her to the market again. But, this time their efforts actually delighted the (now) seven year old kid’s heart.
Or maybe all of these things had nothing to do with her happiness. It came from her personal little bundle of joy.
By the end of the very first week itself, she had bought 10 Rakhis for her only baby brother and everyday she would spread them open on the table and spend hours selecting the best Rakhi for her brother, who was too all too young and fragile to even stand up by himself.
When the day finally came, she was the first one to wake up. She dressed up in her favorite Barbie frock.
And then she made the baby get up, for she had already waited enough- waited for seven long years.
And then she, the little “mother-sister”, bathed him and dressed him. A Rakhi was finally tied that covered one third of her baby brother’s arm. And as she treated him to a piece of chocolate, he bit her finger. A tear rolled down her cheeks once again, just as it started raining outside. But this time it was a tear of joy.
Now, almost 11 years later she penned down the most beautiful incident of her life. Rakshabandhan continues to be her favorite festival of all.
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