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.