Miss a brother…

The husband has three sisters. And he is a generous soul. Naturally I am half tempted to tie on an additional rakhi on his hand every Raksha Bandhan, given the largesse he distributes every year. And it would be valid also, I could argue, given that Raksha Bandhan is about protecting a woman, and he jolly well protect me from the big bad world and romeos who dont wolfwhistle any more, but thats another post. But having failed to convince the traditional about the logic of the husband needing a rakhi to protect his wife (and as most husbands might add, needing protection from the wife) I desist and wonder why the good Lord in his wisdom chose not to give me any siblings. Not that the parents didn’t try. Many miscarriages later the frail mother gave up. I have been too lazy to even contemplate going through a csec again and being catheter bound and spouting geysers of milk while the entire world comes over to visit you is a definite put off. Never mind that the star of the show is a mewling brat. No plans for part deux.

The brat is following in his fathers’ generous supersized footsteps. He gifted his cousin sister a pair of Converse Shoes and a watch. The sister in law tells me the husband would give them five rupees each every Raksha Bandhan and then throw tantrums in the evening for his money back. The current largesse is therefore payment with compounded interest for all those years of taking back aforementioned five rupees.

I long for a brother. Not for the gift, though that would be nice too, but for the sheer comfort of knowing that there is some more of my genetic pool around splashing around, should, god forbid, anything happen to my mother. As things stand, the only blood connection close to me right now is the brat. And I lived a lonely childhood. So lonely that I withdrew completely into books and an inner world of fantasy and story telling that I became a fabulous raconteur of imaginary escapades that had most of my friends label me an airhead loony. A brother clouting me on my ear occasionally would have done me a world of good. And a brother to come to and complain when the random wolfwhistle came my way would have been the icing on the cake. Perhaps he too would have stormed off to go get the loon a free eye check up, rather than do the filmy thing and bash him to pieces. I leave that for the husband. He loves getting into a good scrimmage. Perhaps he should have taken up rugby rather than swimming, he’s a natural. But then I digress.

I really miss having a sibling. Friends dont make up for not having a blood sister or a brother, someone one has grown up with, someone shares a common history and parents with, someone who knows your every secret and your deepest fears. I envy my husband his sisters, and I envy his sisters such a loving brother. God bless all brothers. 

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About Kiran Manral

Author of The Face At The Window, ( 2016), Karmic Kids, All Aboard (2015) , Once Upon A Crush (2014) and The Reluctant Detective (2011).
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13 Responses to Miss a brother…

  1. Average Jane says:

    Oh well, I have a brother and I got clouted around some and we do share a genetic pool. However, I doubt he knows even a single one of my thoughts leave alone my deepest fears and dirtiest secrets. God forbid! The grass on the other side of all our fences ain’t always all green, sister! Having said that, I miss the kind of brother you are talking of too.

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  2. dipali says:

    Me too. My brother died very suddenly last year, and since he’d been living in England for decades we didn’t meet him too often. But he was there, and that was all that mattered. We were all quite content in our lives, knowing that the other was just a phone call or e-mail away.
    His absence is now a constant presence that I cannot even begin to explain. I have some wonderful cousins to whom I do send/tie raakhis, but it is really not the same: my mental landscape has altered irrevocably.
    Be nice to Krish and get him a sibling. (I took ten years to have my second one, so you still have time:).The c-sec and catheter part doesn’t last all that long. Attagirl, Kiran
    My husband is a smashing brother too. Also an amazing Maama!
    Quite multi-functional indeed.

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  3. childwoman says:

    ‘God Bless all Brothers’ I so second that, Kiran! 🙂

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  4. Broom says:

    I miss having a sibling too. Doesn’t have to be a brother. Infact I think I’d prefer a sister. And I miss this only now that I am grown up. I was quite oblivious to what I was missing when I was a kid.

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  5. Kiran Manral says:

    AverageJane: well, at least he’s blood and he’s there…I have no one… *Wailing piteously*

    Dipali: Oh I am so sorry to hear that…it must be such an emptiness in you. Oh, you think I can manage two Krishes????? You have more faith in me than I do.

    childwoman: Yes, you have wonderful brothers dont you!!

    Broom: AM wondering if I am warping the brat with my refusal to have part deux.

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  6. dipali says:

    Kiran, you may well have the antithesis of Krish!
    Go risk it, Babe:)

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  7. lambiracekaghoda says:

    I miss a brother too! Strange but true. I have three elder sisters, 10,12,and 15 years elder respectively. I have always wanted an elder brother. My mom obviously tried pretty hard to have me but I miss having an elder brother who can advise me and spoil me ;). Thanks for the message Kiran, I am in England right now to get all my stuff back (all 10 boxes!)…JUST got back to my college room, damn I am going to miss this room so much. Everything feels so nice. I will be back in Bombay around the 12th of this month…more later:)

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  8. I’m guessing this is not a good time to dance around singing that i love my brother…

    so true – the catheter bound, milk spouting part – is it not the most humiliating experience of your life?

    if you were closer i’d share mine with you. he’s a pet.

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  9. dipali says:

    MM, at least after the catheter and milk spouting business you have a baby to cherish and love. Other surgeries are just as humiliating, and you don’t even get a baby as a reward for all the suffering.
    If you have my kids, you become the butt of even more corny jokes.
    After a laparascopy (with multiple small incisions) I was my son’s ‘Hole-y’ mother. After my tumour surgery several sutures ruptured-
    it went around that I’d split my sides laughing (which I actually had).
    I also happen to have a lipoma on my scalp, so it’s ‘Mom the fathead’.
    Bah. Give me a good c-sec and a baby any day.
    (Oh no, it’s no use: they are the ones who grow up and crack these awful jokes).

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  10. Big Zed says:

    Kiran,
    Just went through a c-sec, catheter bound,IVs etc, etc. It was not all that bad. Give Krish a sibling. He will love it.

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  11. Kiran Manral says:

    Lambiracekaghoda: Till news from you.

    MadMomma: Geesh, now you’ve got me all jealous. But am keeping sanity by thinking hubby and his bro are opposites, and there’s no telling what sort of bro I could pick the straw for….

    Dipali: Gosh, will the brat grow up to ask me why I need to shave everyday?????

    Big Zed: You are a brave woman. I am a vain woman. Therein lies the difference.

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  12. I know just what you mean. With my parents gone and 2 miscarriages I feel that connection with my brother, shared genes seem so much more important now.

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  13. Luke says:

    I live in Boston (US) and work for a company with offices here and in Delhi. I just stumbled across your blog when Googling the phrase “cousin sister” which a colleague uses and which, while poetically descriptive and apt, isn’t found in our twisted version of English. Just wanted to pass along congratulations: you write very well, with great humor and sweetness.

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