My tall sister

Part 1: The Anchor – A Kidney and a Promise of a sister

 In a modest, sun-drenched house where the dust motes danced in the late afternoon light, lived a sister and brother whose love was the foundation of everything. Her name was nivetha, though to her brother, she was simply Nivi. At sixteen, she was a compact storm of expressiveness—all of 150 centimeters tall, with emotions that could shift from fiery indignation to deep tenderness in the space of a heartbeat. Her brother was ram. Fourteen years old, and with the benign arrogance of a little brother who had just realized he stood a full fourteen centimeters taller than his "elder" sister. He reveled in this fact, using his new height as a constant, playful weapon. On this particular afternoon, the familiar dance began. Nivi flung herself onto the living room sofa, a cascade of schoolbooks spilling around her. A groan, long and theatrical, filled the room. "Ugh, ram, can you believe the amount of homework I have? It's not fair!" Her complaint was aimed at the universe, but its target, as always, was the boy by the door. ram just grinned, a spark of mischief in his eyes. He took two deliberate steps closer, amplifying the height difference. "Maybe if you spent less time texting and more time studying, it wouldn't be a problem," he teased, his voice light. She looked up, a scowl forming. "And stop standing so close! You're making me feel even shorter. Did you grow again or something?" "Not one or two cm, Nivi," he laughed, holding his hands a good fifteen centimeters apart. "Fifteen! I'm the tallest in the family now! Your elder sister in name only!" That did it. Her pride, forever prickly about her stature, flared. "That's it! I'm still your elder sister, you know. Respect your elders!" In a futile, adorable act of defiance, she sprang onto her tiptoes, her nose now level with his chin. "And I'm not short, you're just… unnaturally tall for your age! Younger ones will be the tallest, and after all, I'm a girl!" This was their language. A symphony of bickering conducted in stolen snacks, hidden test papers, and shared laughter behind closed doors. ram’s world was one of simple, burning wants: the sleek PlayStation 5 his friends talked about, his own mobile phone, the roar of a motorcycle. And nivetha, despite her protests, was his chief architect of desire. He’d approach her, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Nivi, I want a PS5. Will you ask Mom for me? Please?" She’d turn, placing her hands on her hips, a judge presiding over a petty court. "Oh, so now I'm ‘Nivi’? You only use that when you want something." A pause, then the terms of surrender. "Fine, I'll help you ask Mom, but you're doing my math homework this weekend. Deal?" His face would fall into an exaggerated mask of horror. "Your math homework? How can I do that? Your grade’s maths is really hard!" She’d gasp, a hand flying to her chest. "Excuse me! Weren't you the one who got 95% in math last term? Don't think I didn't see your report card!" She’d lean in, her eyes glinting. "Either you help me with math, or no PS5 support from your favorite sister. Your choice!" He always, inevitably, chose to help. They were a partnership, a two-person alliance against the mundane rules of the adult world. Their dynamic began its subtle, irrevocable shift the day ram’s curiosity, piqued by Nivi's constant, affectionate stories, got the better of him. "Nivi," he asked, "will you introduce me to your friend Sona?" nivetha’s eyes lit up with pure, unadulterated matchmaking glee. Sona was two years her senior—eighteen to Nivi’s sixteen—a gentle soul with a smile that softened edges and a quiet intelligence. She was the kind of person Nivi admired fiercely. The planned introduction was an event. Nivi prepped ram with a dossier of information: "She likes these actors, she behaves like this, she draws…" When Sona finally arrived, there was a shy grace about her. ram, for his part, was transformed—the boisterous boy replaced by a stammering, blushing version of himself. nivetha watched from the sidelines, her heart swelling with a triumphant, sisterly pride. She became the conductor of their budding romance, "suddenly" remembering urgent tasks in the kitchen, leaving them alone on the pretext of fetching water, her ear perpetually pressed against the figurative wall. For a handful of golden months, life was not just good; it was luminous. It was trips to the beach where nivetha, now christened "Burj Khalifa" by her giggling brother, would hoist both ram and his friends onto her shoulders, her laughter ringing out over the surf. It was shared bowls of melting ice cream, terrible action movies where ram would inevitably fall asleep on her shoulder, and a future that lay ahead of them, vast and shimmering with possibility. But then, something magical and bizarre began to happen. It started one morning. nivetha woke up, stretched, and felt… different. She rushed to the doorframe where their heights were marked. A new line, one centimeter above her last mark. She stared. "ram!" she shrieked, vibrating with excitement. "I TOLD YOU I'D HAVE A GROWTH SPURT! ONE CENTIMETER!" ram, rubbing sleep from his eyes, scoffed. "One cm? Big deal. Stand next to me." They stood back-to-back.nivetha's triumphant smile widened. "Wait… I think…" She kicked off her socks, standing perfectly straight. A beat of silence, then she burst into incredulous laughter. "I'M ONE CENTIMETER TALLER THAN YOU! HA!" ram's jaw dropped. He measured again. It was true. His "shorty" elder sister was now looking down at him. He was devastated. nivetha was ecstatic, putting an arm around his shoulder patronizingly. "Don't worry, little brother, your big sister will still look out for you… from up here!" The universe, it seemed, had a sense of humor. The next day, she grew another ten centimeters overnight, waking up and promptly bumping her head on the top bunk. At 160 cm, she was now properly taller, looking down at him with a mix of shock and glee. "I think I'm too tall!" she wailed, only half-seriously. But it didn't stop. A growth spurt of mythical proportions took hold of her. Within weeks, she was 180 cm, then 190 cm, then a staggering 210 centimeters—taller than the doorframe, having to duck through portals, her school uniforms specially tailored. She became a local wonder, a gentle giant. ram, who once towered over her, now stood at the height of her belly button. He’d hug her and his face would be buried in her stomach. "Nivi," he’d say, his voice muffled, "you're my personal skyscraper." She could now lift him with ease, which she did often—to get things from high shelves, to win bets, just because she could. "See?" she’d grin, flexing. "All this height came with perks!" But with it came a sweet, melancholic ache. The boy who was once her taller little brother was now her little brother in every sense. The dynamic shifted, but the love, if anything, deepened into something even more protective. It was during this time of her astonishing growth that the first, almost imperceptible fissure appeared in ram's health. He began to look pale. A strange fatigue would clutch him in the middle of the day. nivetha, whose love was a watchful, hyper-vigilant thing, noticed immediately. Her teasing took on a new, sharp edge of concern. "Eat your greens," she'd order, pushing spinach onto his plate. "You look like a ghost." He’d brush her off, attributing it to stress. The collapse, when it came, was absolute. It happened in a cozy café, moments after Sona had shyly confessed she might like him too. One second, ram was incandescent with joy, the next, the light vanished from his eyes. He folded to the floor like a marionette with cut strings, a dull thud silencing the world. What followed was a nightmare in sterile lighting. The scream of the ambulance, the frantic rush to the hospital, the unbearable wait in the plastic-chaired purgatory of the emergency room. Their mother’s face was a mask of crumbling plaster. Then, the doctor emerged, his expression grave, his words surgical tools. "Kidney failure. Both are non-functional. He needs a transplant to survive." The sentence hung in the air, a death verdict. Their mother’s knees gave way. But nivetha… nivetha did not crumble. A terrifying, crystalline clarity descended upon her. In that moment, the gentle giant sister vanished, replaced by something ancient and formidable. She took a step forward, placing herself between the doctor and her brother’s unconscious form. Her voice, when it came, was low, steady, and left no room for argument. "Take mine." The objections erupted like a chorus. Her parents, horrified, spoke of risk, of her future, of finding another donor. The doctors cited protocol, her own unprecedented growth, alternatives. She became a wall. A tall, immovable wall of pure will. "He is my brother," she stated, each word a stone laid in her defense. "Test me. Now." They tested her. She was a perfect match. The surgery was a haze of pre-op fear and a singular, iron resolve. As they wheeled her away, she locked eyes with her sobbing mother and whispered, "Tell him I'm coming back." The pain, when she woke, was a white-hot brand across her side. Her first thought, her first slurred question into the blurry face of a nurse was, "ram?" He lived. The transplant was a success. They were now connected by more than memory and shared childhood; they shared a vital organ, a literal piece of each other’s biology. When ram finally stirred, weak and disoriented in his hospital bed, she was there. Her own body was bandaged and sore, but she had dragged herself to his side. She took his hand, her large fingers enveloping his pale ones. "See?" she whispered, her voice raspy but fierce, a smile trembling on her lips. "You're stuck with me forever. My kidney’s in there. No giving up. You hear me?" Tears welled in his eyes, a profound, wordless understanding passing between them. The sister who had become a giant, who could now lift him with one arm, had given him a part of her very self so that he might live. Recovery was a slow, delicate pilgrimage. ram was fragile, a bird with mended wings who didn't yet trust the air. nivetha, healing from her own sacred wound, made his recovery her religion. She read him silly comics, used her height to fetch things from impossible cupboards for him, and masked her own discomfort behind a relentless barrage of cheerful orders. And it was in this landscape of convalescence that Sona’s quiet heroism bloomed. She visited not as a girlfriend, but as a pillar. She read to him, talked softly of ordinary things, her presence a balm. Then, during a frightening postoperative setback, she did something that stole the breath from nivetha’s lungs. Sona approached the doctors, her gentle face set with a determination that mirrored nivetha’s own from weeks before. "Test me," she said, her voice calm. "If I can give him one of mine, I will." nivetha could only stare from her great height, a hurricane of awe, gratitude, and a fierce, protective love roaring in her chest. Sona was also a match. In a second act of breathtaking generosity, Sona gave ram one of her kidneys. He now carried within him living pieces of both women—the sister who was his mountain and the girl who was his quiet valley. The three of them became a trinity, bound by scars and sacrifice. nivetha’s love, already a vast continent, expanded its borders to enfold Sona completely. They were a fortress, a small, unassailable kingdom of mutual devotion. ram, often overwhelmed by the magnitude of the gifts he’d received, would grow emotional in the quiet evenings. "Nivi," he’d say, his voice thick, avoiding her gaze. "Without you… I wouldn't be alive today." She’d reach over and ruffle his hair, her touch gentle from high above, her eyes soft. "And without Sona, you'd be in a different kind of trouble. So you're double-lucky, and double-stuck with us. Now eat your porridge." For a few precious, suspended months, life found a new rhythm—a rhythm of gratitude, of careful health, of a love that had literally been tested in the fire of mortality and had grown, quite literally, to new heights. They believed, in their youthful hearts, that the worst was behind them. They had faced death and won. They had no way of knowing that the deepest tests of love are not of survival, but of morality, of forgiveness, and of sacrifice in the cruelest of circumstances. The anchor held firm in the calm harbor, but out at sea, the storm clouds were gathering, darker and more violent than any of them could possibly imagine. The gift of life, it seemed, was only the first installment of a much steeper price. (Narrator’s voice softens, fading) And so, their story turned a page. From the quiet drama of sibling rivalry to the profound covenant of shared flesh and blood. But a covenant, as they would soon learn, is not a shield. It is a vow. And vows are tested not in peace, but in chaos.


Will be continued in part two……. Give your comments please.