A long long time ago, there lived seven sisters who loved each other very much. Once the sisters were very hungry and had a single sesame seed between them. So hungry were they and so deep was their love that they split the sesame seed into seven equal parts.
Bahadur was one of my initial introductions into the world of stories. He would enthrall me with a world of mountains, hills, bears, village folk and more. This particular story was narrated in the midst of heavy Mumbai traffic as our car made its way from my school in Colaba to my home on Marine Drive. I didn’t realize when we reached home as I imagined how hard it would be to break a till seed and how tiny the piece would have been.
Somehow the story stayed with me and years later, I ended up informally implementing a seven-sister policy at office where everybody would share the goodies that they got.
Bahadur is one of my fondest memories beginning when I was about 4 years. A trusted driver who grew to become a family member, I would trust only him with combing my short crop. I remember standing on a stool so that he wouldn’t need to bend so much to reach my then small frame.
His would be one of the first birthday gifts that would greet us – a big Cadbury chocolate duly wrapped up in pretty paper.
It almost become a ritual that I think I sometimes took for granted. His would be the best limbu pani, quiet sandwiches from the office when the delicious lunch at home didn’t appeal to me – his would be the enchanting stories that would entertain me during the drives between classes in my early school years.
The years intervened and our ways parted. The lovely memories always stay. Some people are unforgettable and they touch our lives forever with wisdom and ways of living.