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Big sister as mother is not an uncommon story. A lovely ode to the bond of sisterhood, one of the strongest ones there is.
Editor’s Note: On this Mother’s Day, we asked our contributors to share stories of women who have mothered them, beyond their mothers. This is one of the beautiful stories we received. While we love our moms, this is our way of acknowledging that it takes a village to raise a child, and many of us have been lucky to be mothered by others too.
She would burst into tears when I howled as a little baby, so I am told. But having seen her cry whenever I have fought with her, I trust those stories completely.
This woman who mothered me was all of three years old when I snatched away the position of the youngest child in the family from her. My sister, has been the one who always looked out for me and still does even though we have children of our own now.
She is definitely to be blamed for the outspoken rebel that I have grown into, for I grew up seeing her fight till the very end. It is because of her that I have believed that I can dance and sing, though I feel that my baby sleeps whenever I sing a lullaby to him out of sheer desperation to end the torture.
She is also to be credited for passing on the habit of eating chalk and raw rice; something which I still occasionally do.
As a young child, I hated going to the school so much so that I would cry as soon as we reached the school gate. I would hold on to her skirt and a tug-o-war would ensue between me and the peons who would try hard to pull me off her. I on my part would use all the strength I had in my tiny bones, till they finally did us apart.
She was the sense of home for me, a sense of family amidst strangers and I would do anything to remain with her for as long as possible. Sometimes I would sneak into her class and sit with her, winning over her teachers with an innocent smile and so they would let me be. But then there were some who would hear none of it and send me right back where I belonged. Needless to say my sister faced the brunt all along. But never did she sent me away.
Once we went on a school picnic and I came back home with a friend without telling her. She came hours later, exhausted and crying, as she had been searching for me all over the place and thought that somebody had kidnapped me. While I had been happily eating oranges on our terrace ignorant of the grave mistake I had committed. I still remember the look in her eyes when she saw me standing on the terrace and happily waving at her. If looks could kill, I would not be alive to tell this story today.
Well, these are stories that I am sure would be passed on to our kids as part of a family heirloom.
It was only after she left school and I was left to fend for myself that I realized how protected I had been. I could pick a fight with anyone, go to school without the required stationery, be let off by teachers, speak to seniors without hesitation because I had her to fall back on.
Growing up days are critical as they build our sense of identity and it becomes even more important to have someone to look up to. Skinny kids with braces on their teeth have their chances of survival in a competitive school environment upped just because they have sisters like mine, who are firmly standing behind them, shooing away anyone who poses a threat.
And now that I am all grown up and independent, it is her that I turn to when I feel lost and seek familiarity when overwhelmed with the unknown.
Aren’t elder sisters second mothers to their siblings? Well, mine certainly was.
Two girls image via Shutterstock
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Neena was the sole caregiver of Amma and though one would think that Amma was dependent on her, Neena felt otherwise.
Neena inhaled the aroma that emanated from the pan and took a deep breath. The aroma of cumin interspersed with butter transported her back to the modest kitchen in her native village. She could picture her father standing in the kitchen wearing his white crisp kurta as he made delectable concoctions for his only daughter.
Neena grew up in a home where both her parents worked together in tandem to keep the house up and running. She had a blissful childhood in her modest two-room house. The house was small but every nook and cranny gave her memories of a lifetime. Neena’s young heart imagined that her life would follow the same cheerful course. But how wrong she was!
When she was sixteen, the catastrophic clutches of destiny snatched away her parents. They passed away in a road accident and Neena was devastated. Relatives thronged her now gloomy house and soon it was decided that she should be married off.
Women today don’t want to be in a partnership that complicates their lives further. They need an equal partner with whom they can figure out life as a team, playing by each other’s strengths.
We all are familiar with that one annoying aunty who is more interested in our marital status than in the dessert counter at a wedding. But these aunties have somehow become obsolete now. Now they are replaced by men we have in our lives. Friends, family, and even work colleagues. It’s the men who are worried about why we are not saying yes to one among their clans. What is wrong with us? Aren’t we scared of dying alone? Like them?
A recent interaction with a guy friend of mine turned sour when he lectured me about how I would regret not getting married at the right time. He lectured that every event in our lives needs to be completed within a certain timeframe set by society else we are doomed. I wasn’t angry. I was just disappointed to realize that annoying aunties are rapidly doubling in our society. And they don’t just appear at weddings or family functions anymore. They are everywhere. They are the real pandemic.
Let’s examine this a little closer.
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