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A brother’s life teaches a sister to express love jubilantly and cherish each moment of life as precious.
A precious brother-sister bond that stays unbroken; a sister reflects on the relationship she shared.
By Meenakshi M Singh
My mother wept a lot when I was born; a pretty and healthy baby but that was not enough to earn her a good reputation among her orthodox in-laws, since I was a girl. An unwelcome guest who had arrived despite trying weird superstitions such as swallowing gold and peacock feathers. The frugal in-laws needed only a son who could bring money home through sweat or dowry.
Mummy’s prayers got answered 6 years later. “Your brother has arrived,” Naani came announcing. We walked fast with irresistible excitement, ignoring the heavy rain and entering Mummy’s room drenched. You, in the crib, draped in sky-blue soft linen, the fairest, softest baby, I’d ever seen, with almost no eyebrows, blonde hair, seemed an Angrez. We overloaded your tiny wrists with huge rakhis, as you came just in time, 2 days before the Raksha-Bandhan. I remember how Mom used to mark your forehead with kajal after bath to save you from the evil eye, Yashoda’s little Krishna.
You weren’t growing normally and developed droopy eyelids but the elders fabricated this, “Even Guru Nanak possessed such eyes”. Every year, on your birthday, our house was full of pomp and show with elaborate functions. Besotted, celebrating your existence aloud, our parents didn’t acknowledge your feebleness, increasing every birthday. Ignorance couldn’t be bliss always. You looked handsome but struggled amongst your mates with frail muscles and an inability to run. A strong brain in a weak body. You knew your limitations, and gradually Mummy and Papa realized that too.
Local doctors failed to diagnose the root cause and you were admitted to a specialized hospital which resolved advanced medical problems. A biopsy test was done, a graft sent abroad for advanced diagnosis. Your words on that chit are still etched in my heart “Di, I don’t feel like painting here, it is dull being around patients. Don’t send more coloured pens, why you looked sad to see me today, I’ll come back soon, love you”. I couldn’t understand what you were going through. The results demonstrated that you had mitochondrial myopathy; for us, an uncommon, unheard of muscular problem.
You felt embarrassed amongst schoolmates oozing stamina. I watched you outdoors struggling while playing cricket and getting beaten up. Our parents surrendered and let you study from home. You felt bored losing most of your friends. The PC, your birthday gift turned into a wonderland substituting for friends.
We both loved to talk, recording duets, sharing an ineffable bonding. I took our understanding for granted. I treated you as a fixity, and never took you out avoiding hassles. Still you never complained for anything, not even to God. How was it possible for a teenager to stay so cheerful with so many limitations?
In 2000, we celebrated your birthday exuberantly one month before the actual date since everybody had their summer vacations. The monsoon dawned in July and we both caught the seasonal fever and followed the same prescription. “I have recovered, I wonder why Kishu is still unwell,” I shared with Mummy. You still suffered with fever and headaches even after 3 weeks.
We were watching a movie that night after I returned from office, Tum Bin, a girl missing her boyfriend. Mummy was massaging your swollen feet, comforting you to sleep. The dogs cried at high pitch late at night, piercing my ears.
Next morning, feeling uneasy, I asked, “Kishu, how are you feeling now? I don’t feel like going to office today.” You insisted. “What you need to do? Please go. It’s just a headache”. I massaged your forehead briefly. Mummy assured me that they would take you to the hospital for a checkup. I headed outside. “Di, come back, wear your office sandals first, take off my slippers”. I looked down realizing and changed, patting your cheek. Chal Bye.
I was unusually silent and uneasy that day, so my colleagues planned a lunch outing to pep me up. Three of us were walking on the road ahead, two of us behind. A crow flying speedily came out of nowhere and pierced my scalp with its sharp beak and disappeared. I stood bewildered; my 6 ft. tall colleague should’ve been an easier target than me.
On reaching home, you were not back from the hospital as yet, only a call came from Mamaji that you were fine and would be back soon. I was praying before dinner for your well being. The phone rang twice; I picked up the receiver. “Your brother has left us”, Papa said crying.
I felt too lonely to bear the anguish, desperate to be with Mummy assuring me of your well being as always. People told me that they were bringing your body in an hour. I was demented, violent, pushing back people who stopped me when I headed towards the road to receive you, ordering all of them to leave.
After experiencing ages of traumatic loneliness, you came clad in white clothes. You were wrapped like a newborn again, but kept on the floor. I saw you still, a cold lifeless body. I poured kisses on your face, held in my lap, pleading with you, scolding you to open your eyes. I shook you hard; people asked me not to hurt your soul but I didn’t obey. I understood what helplessness is about. An intense pain and inconsolable loss felt within. The biopsy also revealed that your myopathy wasn’t curable; results kept confidential from you and me.
We had a large gathering wishing peace to your soul, where I was to offer petals to your photo. I tried but couldn’t as you still exist within my heart, alive and vibrant, with your touch, voice and purest soul.
I find it difficult to answer today when people ask me whether I have a brother.
*Photo credit: Will Graham (Used under the Creative Commons Attribution License)
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People say that women are the greatest enemies of women. I vehemently disagree. It is the patriarchal mindset that makes women believe in the wrong ideology.
The entire world celebrates International Women’s Day on March 8, 2024. It should be a joyful day, but unfortunately, not all women are entitled to this privilege, as violence against women is at its peak. The experience of oppression pushes many women to choose freedom. As far as patriotism is concerned, feminism is not a cup of tea in this society.
What happens when a woman decides to stand up for herself? Does this world easily accept the decisions of women in this society? What inspires them to be free of the clutches of the oppression that women have faced for ages? Most of the time, women do not get the chance to decide for themselves. Their lives are always at the mercy of someone, which can be their parents, siblings, husband, or children.
In some cases, women do not feel the need to make any decisions. They are taught to obey the patriarchal system, which makes them believe that they are right. In my family, I was never taught to make decisions on my own. It was always my parents who bought dresses and all that I needed.
14 years after her last feature film Dhobi Ghat, storyteller extraordinaire comes up with her new film, Laapataa Ladies, a must watch.
*Some spoilers alert*
Every religion around the world dictates terms to women. The onus is always on women to be ‘modest’ and cover their faces and bodies so men can’t be “tempted”, rather than on men to keep their eyes where they belong and behave like civilized beings. So much so that even rape has been excused on the grounds of women eating chowmein or ‘men will be men’. I think the best Hindi movie retort to this unwanted advice on ‘akeli ladki khuli tijori ki tarah hoti hai’ (an alone woman is like an open jewellery box) came from Geet in Jab We Met – Kya aap gyan dene ke paise lete hain kyonki chillar nahin hain mere paas.
The premise of Laapataa Ladies is beautifully simple – two brides clad in the ghunghat that covers their identity get mixed up on a train. Within this Russian Doll, you get a comedy of errors, a story of getting lost, a commentary on patriarchy’s attitude towards women, a mystery, and a tale of finding oneself, all in one. Done with a mostly light touch that has you laughing and nodding along.
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