My sister is getting married in two days. I can’t even imagine me sitting here and writing this and not being there with her, but this is how it is. This is how this life of mine would have it. The sadness knows no bounds when I think about us growing up, things that always made us be together yet fight like crazy. I remember she is the one with two scars on the back of her head. Always the rebel, always the blunt talker, my sister in a lot of ways is what I can never be. And as both of us grew up, she became even more of an inkblot, directionless yet sublime, amazing yet steeped in sadness and in true sense, a thinker and a loner. As her brother, it was a journey for me to see her evolve, from a chubby little girl to a beautiful woman who had an exquisite taste in movies and music and food. She is probably my most harsh critic and my most fanatic supporter.
And like me, the growing conscience in her has made her lonely, and depressed. That’s why I am happy that she had found her partner.
How I wish I could be there.
The thunderstorms ravaging through the Atlanta sky reminds me that nothing stays constant. That a perfect sunny day may end in a vicious, howling storm. Me and my sister did start our journey in a bumpy rollercoaster. The first time I saw a little bundle moving by my mom in the nursing home, I had curiously asked my father if she would be coming home with us. Our childhood rivalry had some intense moments, but during our adolescent years that playful enmity had died down. She was, and still is an amazing singer; she is a cooking connoisseur and an absolute expert in handiwork. All those glass paintings, all those painted vases – and that stray pine cone that she found and which ended up adorning one of our drawing room walls, are testament to that. She has a keen eye for art, something she has developed over time, and something I absolutely adore about her.
A travel-lover, and a fussy reader, she always had a love-hate relationship with my mom. Though I do think my father always favors her more than me, time and again bitter fights with both have made me question my thought process. I get told that I am always the chosen one between me and her, something I never wanted to become. My uncles, my grandmother, my relatives are smitten by her aura. I am a calmness in front of my sister, and that is the reason that we gel so well together. We can spend hours together talking and watching movies and listening to music and what not. During our days in the rented place in Kolkata, we would spend listening to music and watching movies in sweltering heat, right after office – something that often went into late night. The sudden freedom was so good for both of us that we didn’t want to go back home on weekends. Man, those were the days, when we would go out on an evening stroll, walking towards the bus stand, and sit there at a tea shop sipping hot tea. Or we would stand on the passenger bridge to revel at the moist breeze that the Hooghly river produced.
That girl, my sister, starts a new life in two days.
I have to apologize to my sister for not being there. I couldn’t be there. Circumstances chained me, and I regret every bit of it. But as I look back, I think the bigger apology should be for unwillingly hogging the spotlight. To be a complete asshole whom everybody loves and forcing you to be a rebel. I know I didn’t do it, but somehow I became the Yin, and she became the Yang.
I don’t want to spoil the wedding or cast a dark shadow of past. That’s just idiotic. We should always make the best of the situation, and we will do. What good are tools like Skype for? I will be there, in the wedding, through the power of technology.
My sister is getting married, fellas! Hoorah and spread the cheer!