Musings of an Undercover Yogi

On a sunny afternoon in May, when I was almost seven, I heard a baby wail. Apparently, the sound came from outside our home. I brought the fact to the parents’ notice. On further investigation, we discovered a newborn lying in the common dumpster just across the road. 🙁

She stole my heart at first glance; her beauty and innocence mesmerized me. She was fair, had big, light eyes, and dark brown curls. She was chubby and her cheeks dimpled even when she screamed murder. 👼

I watched as a range of emotions flitted across the parents’ faces—shock, concern, sympathy, and finally, love. And I? Well, I was overjoyed. She was the answer to my fervent prayers, a gift straight from heaven. Didn’t I demand a baby sister from my parents not long ago? A sister, mind you, most definitely not a brother. Because a brother would surely pull my hair out and I’d become bald in no time. Guaranteed. 😇

For various reasons, my parents were unwilling to bring the baby home. I groveled and even promised to help with household chores. Finally, they gave in. That’s how we brought you home, my dear little baby. 😇

This is the malicious birthday story I cooked up for my sister when we were kids. 😈 😂 Happy birthday, my kid sister from the dumpster! I love you. ♥😍