It is not easy to be the second born

I was born second, so the world I came into is nothing like the world a first born comes into. Everything is different, tried and tested.

In my "BIG" sister's words, I never had parents of my own. I had to share mine with my sister from the moment I was born, whereas she had 5 years of having them all for herself. Okay fine, I do have an extra person in the house to play with, and fight with. But see even here, it is getting all about her. It always does.
Time for me is not taught in terms of hours and minutes, it is measured in terms of what my sister does. So there is this time before she goes to school, and the time she comes back from school. And the time she plays, does her homework, and the time she goes to classes. My day is based around her schedule. And what does she tell my parents at the end of each day, that they love me more than her. Doesn't she see how it is, it is always all about her!

Have you seen our house? There are no pictures of me hung anywhere. There are so many of my sister in different poses, and when I ask them "Where is me there", the family goes in flashback mode with stories behind those pictures. "We will put up yours soon", they say, I have been waiting! My "new" clothes come out of boxes, books have a tear or two, toys have something always broken, it is rare that I get something new. I am always observing and thinking how will I ever tread on that path set by you.

I have heard my parents telling people how I make their heart melt, and my sister boasting to her friends how cute her sister is. But what is the point of all this cuteness I say! If only I could have been the first born and told my sister what to do! I try my best even now, reminding her every time of whatever my mom reminds me. She looks down at me and says "Remember I am seven Av, you are only two". How different is two from seven I say!

It is hard for me to look out at the world right now, for all I can see is my sister and right now she is my world.

-- Perceived thoughts of a 2 year old

It is not easy to be me

Fate had me to be born in America to parents born and brought up in India. What does that mean to a little girl like me, well a lot!

Life is not as simple for me as it is for my American friends born to American parents. They have fun and follow traditions during the holidays here. We celebrate some of the American holidays too, but I find my parents lost thinking what to really do. And it is not only these that we are celebrating. We have the Indian festivals too that my parents are so excited about. And both put together there are so many that I sometimes find it hard to remember what comes when. And when I excitedly go tell my friends about Diwali or Navaratri they look so lost.

When I went to India it was a lot of fun, but it was a lot hard too. Initially everybody was shocked at how little I spoke in any other language than English, but towards the end of my three months vacation they wondered why I did not have an American accent like their relative's kids. My parents insisted I speak in our language there as much as possible, but the kids in the playground replied back in English. I was made to recite Slokas while my friends there were free to sing any English song they wanted. It was all very confusing to me.

And then there are these friendly comments from everybody. My diet gets filled with sweets and butter when family in India think I am not chubby enough. Then I am soon spooning a lot of fruits and vegetables after a friendly American asks my parents if they have checked my BMI lately. There is so much obesity in America you see!

And then there are expectations set by others like me, I have to have the right amount of geekiness in me from my Indian genes and the right amount of groomed skills and social etiquette from my American environment. What will our friends think if I dont read at four and add complex numbers being of Indian origin? What will my uncle's neighbor's cousin think if I am not going to ballet classes?

So with all these expectations set, its not a surprise when I get looks when I say something that is not expected. Like when I listen to the song My name is Madhavi from Karadi Tales, I sing my name is A, I am from America and I speak English, I look up to see my parents exchanging a look. Or when I hear a song of Raffi, All I really need.........so that I can grow up strong and take the place where I belong, I say I belong in India, that is where my family is and I am going to move there, and I again see my parents exchange a look. I get laughed at when I call Salami as Ras-malai as for some reason I think they sound similar.

It is true that everything to me comes in two folds, the pains and gains. At just the sheer beginning of my life I am experiencing lifestyles from two different corners of the world. From the folktales of India to the humor of Dr. Seuss, from the pumpkin pies of Halloween to Pongal, from the lehengas to the leggings, from M S Subbulakshmi to Raffi, from Ballet to Bhangra, there has been plenty of variety. And with all this variety I have had a terrific start to my quest of knowledge and information.

After thrusting all these complications into my life they even have a name for me, ABCD (American Born Confused Desi). Sometimes I think it stands for American Born Controlled Desi.

All I know is that I just want to grow up like me, without the controversies and the expectations. And other times I wonder if that is what will form me. But whatever it is I wish I grow up to be an American Born Confident Desi.

---Perceived thoughts of a little girl at the door of four.