Doubling up: 18 years + Twice the fun
Day 0: A new life was born.
Day 5 or 6(approximately): Something stirs. A second life emerges as well.
Day 210: My mum and my dad sat waiting in the gynecologist's reception room. 10 long minutes passed, probably the longest in their lives. My mum counted the seconds in an almost frenzied agony. My dad squeezed her hand to reassure her, but she wasn't convinced.
The door banged. The doctor, Ms. Sharma, strode in.
My mum was laid flat on the operation bed. The scanner of the ultrasound machine passed over her swollen abdomen. Her heart raced with anxiety and excitement. What would the scan reveal?
Ms. Sharma peered at the graphics on her computer screen. With a jubilant smile she announced "Well, that's the two of them!"
And that began the journey of 17 incredible years.
That's the two of them? That's right. That's the two of us. My identical twin sister Deepa and me.
Twins, triplets, quads. You hear a lot about them these days. But back then, in my hometown, they were the exception rather than the norm.
"Bless your souls! You're getting twins!"- Our parents were touted the lucky ones. But the truth could not get farther.
Let me get it straight. We weren't Little Miss Perfects. Neither were we a pair of adorable baby dolls. Instead, right from the ripe age of three, we adopted a Calvin-ish approach to life. Our policy: life was (and still is) short and sweet. And we were determined to extract the maximum juice from it.
So, instead of squabbling over pink frocks or blue stuffed elephants, we expended our time in what we thought were rather useful pursuits. By the age of five, we were like a pair of extremely nosy, very curious meerkats. When our parents talked between themselves using big words like" ambidextrous" and "rhinitis", we were convinced that it was one of their fiendish plots to conceal some critical adult information from us unsuspecting simpletons. So, we'd trot up to our big dictionary, fling it open and plunge ourselves into a world of unfamiliar letters. Our efforts were mostly futile attempts, but through them, we ended up learning eclectic stuff that conventional pre-schooling would never have taught.
Growing up with Deepa was pure fun. There was always someone to sing karaoke to the songs of " The Lion King", to embark on various schemes such as setting up our own environmental club, and to play doubles with on our 8-octave Casio, our fingers growing long and spindly as we vainly endeavored to stretch out across 10 keys.
As the years rolled by, our activities became more complex and, consequently, were disapproved by our parents to a greater extent. From collecting rocks in nearby fields to add to our growing rock collection, we graduated to more sophisticated pastimes.
By 10th grade, we were dissecting butterflies and cockroaches and scanning their entrails with our own electric microscope. I would hunt down the vile arthropods, while Deepa would get the setup ready and peer at the unfortunate insect. We fooled about with chemicals in the school laboratory, especially with concentrated nitric acid, which, as I discovered later, turned my fingers a hideous yellow. Our over-enthusiastic love for animals culminated in us trying to toast a cockroach (which incidentally is impossible) as breakfast for our pet lizard.
Much to our mum's chagrin we'd never express any girlish desires. We were, to simply put it, deeply interested by those objects the rest of humanity found repulsive.
Not that we hadn't tried to please our mum. We did try to temper our boisterous spirits by engaging ourselves in the delicate art of cooking. We decided to commence with scrambled eggs. Unfortunately, eggs aren't meant for butterfingers and of the four eggs that were available, only one made it to the cooking pot. Our breakfast that morning was essentially "a scrambled egg". Evidently, cooking required much finer skills and nerves.
Generosity, patience, perseverance ï I wasn't destined to have them. But life with Deepa taught me that if you happen to be the only one left with a complete Math book at the end of the academic year, you simply have to grin and share. Sharing and caring were virtues that were enforced on me from birth, but I realized their preciousness only much later.
Through my interactions with Deepa, I had come to understand others better. Living together for 17 years gave us a mode of silent communication ï our body language. We'd subconsciously noted each other's body language for years- it spoke when our voices did not. A single nudge conveyed a plethora of emotions, so much so that we could silently communicate the entire day. I used this knowledge to interpret the true feelings of others. For me, conversing with a friend face-to-face yielded much more information than an
e-mail or a text message.
We share the same genetic make-up, but not the same minds. Sadly over the years, Deepa and I have diversified. She loves dinosaurs; I love human evolution.
We're growing apart. Perhaps it's a good thing. Perhaps it isn't. At any rate it is a bittersweet truth that must be faced before the voyage goes on.
Life has been a kaleidoscope of experiences these 17 long years. And I hope that this roller coaster ride continues in college as well. I hope to people who share my insatiable curiosity to probe into the mysteries of the world.
Is it O.K.?
Please comment!
Day 0: A new life was born.
Day 5 or 6(approximately): Something stirs. A second life emerges as well.
Day 210: My mum and my dad sat waiting in the gynecologist's reception room. 10 long minutes passed, probably the longest in their lives. My mum counted the seconds in an almost frenzied agony. My dad squeezed her hand to reassure her, but she wasn't convinced.
The door banged. The doctor, Ms. Sharma, strode in.
My mum was laid flat on the operation bed. The scanner of the ultrasound machine passed over her swollen abdomen. Her heart raced with anxiety and excitement. What would the scan reveal?
Ms. Sharma peered at the graphics on her computer screen. With a jubilant smile she announced "Well, that's the two of them!"
And that began the journey of 17 incredible years.
That's the two of them? That's right. That's the two of us. My identical twin sister Deepa and me.
Twins, triplets, quads. You hear a lot about them these days. But back then, in my hometown, they were the exception rather than the norm.
"Bless your souls! You're getting twins!"- Our parents were touted the lucky ones. But the truth could not get farther.
Let me get it straight. We weren't Little Miss Perfects. Neither were we a pair of adorable baby dolls. Instead, right from the ripe age of three, we adopted a Calvin-ish approach to life. Our policy: life was (and still is) short and sweet. And we were determined to extract the maximum juice from it.
So, instead of squabbling over pink frocks or blue stuffed elephants, we expended our time in what we thought were rather useful pursuits. By the age of five, we were like a pair of extremely nosy, very curious meerkats. When our parents talked between themselves using big words like" ambidextrous" and "rhinitis", we were convinced that it was one of their fiendish plots to conceal some critical adult information from us unsuspecting simpletons. So, we'd trot up to our big dictionary, fling it open and plunge ourselves into a world of unfamiliar letters. Our efforts were mostly futile attempts, but through them, we ended up learning eclectic stuff that conventional pre-schooling would never have taught.
Growing up with Deepa was pure fun. There was always someone to sing karaoke to the songs of " The Lion King", to embark on various schemes such as setting up our own environmental club, and to play doubles with on our 8-octave Casio, our fingers growing long and spindly as we vainly endeavored to stretch out across 10 keys.
As the years rolled by, our activities became more complex and, consequently, were disapproved by our parents to a greater extent. From collecting rocks in nearby fields to add to our growing rock collection, we graduated to more sophisticated pastimes.
By 10th grade, we were dissecting butterflies and cockroaches and scanning their entrails with our own electric microscope. I would hunt down the vile arthropods, while Deepa would get the setup ready and peer at the unfortunate insect. We fooled about with chemicals in the school laboratory, especially with concentrated nitric acid, which, as I discovered later, turned my fingers a hideous yellow. Our over-enthusiastic love for animals culminated in us trying to toast a cockroach (which incidentally is impossible) as breakfast for our pet lizard.
Much to our mum's chagrin we'd never express any girlish desires. We were, to simply put it, deeply interested by those objects the rest of humanity found repulsive.
Not that we hadn't tried to please our mum. We did try to temper our boisterous spirits by engaging ourselves in the delicate art of cooking. We decided to commence with scrambled eggs. Unfortunately, eggs aren't meant for butterfingers and of the four eggs that were available, only one made it to the cooking pot. Our breakfast that morning was essentially "a scrambled egg". Evidently, cooking required much finer skills and nerves.
Generosity, patience, perseverance ï I wasn't destined to have them. But life with Deepa taught me that if you happen to be the only one left with a complete Math book at the end of the academic year, you simply have to grin and share. Sharing and caring were virtues that were enforced on me from birth, but I realized their preciousness only much later.
Through my interactions with Deepa, I had come to understand others better. Living together for 17 years gave us a mode of silent communication ï our body language. We'd subconsciously noted each other's body language for years- it spoke when our voices did not. A single nudge conveyed a plethora of emotions, so much so that we could silently communicate the entire day. I used this knowledge to interpret the true feelings of others. For me, conversing with a friend face-to-face yielded much more information than an
e-mail or a text message.
We share the same genetic make-up, but not the same minds. Sadly over the years, Deepa and I have diversified. She loves dinosaurs; I love human evolution.
We're growing apart. Perhaps it's a good thing. Perhaps it isn't. At any rate it is a bittersweet truth that must be faced before the voyage goes on.
Life has been a kaleidoscope of experiences these 17 long years. And I hope that this roller coaster ride continues in college as well. I hope to people who share my insatiable curiosity to probe into the mysteries of the world.
Is it O.K.?
Please comment!
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