It was only a matter of telling her a silly joke and all we had to do was watch her incessant crazy addicting laughter for minutes. It included an exponentially increasing pitch, exposure of all 32 teeth, and holding her tummy so it would not explode. At times, even rolling on the floor was a sight.
At times I wonder if half of my childhood calories were purely her fault – her insisting on having at least 2 cups of pineapple ice cream, the unending chaat that only started with golgappas, aloo tikki, and papri chaat, and trips to the main market for the ever so delicious chole-bhature.
She was a constant running machine. She would go through at least 3 different modes of transportation just to meet any one of us cousins wherever we may have been. She welcomed with an open heart, and would get angry with passion. In all that she did, she gave it her all.
She was an example of how to express love, how to let go, and how to hold on to happiness. She may physically be gone but her memory will never diminish. I can still hear her voice and her laughter will never fade. In her suffering, she taught us life. She taught me strength that will never fall short.
She was a fan of my dances, my acting, and my laughter. I never realized that all this time, I’ve been a fan of hers.