Sister

We never shared a womb, we did not share the same DNA, but whenever I think so of having a sister, it is her face that pops up through veils of memory and tells me she is there. When the whole world turned on me too I heard a pleasant, kind and calm voice telling me you are not alone...I wanted to answer her but I was too sick to nudge and tell her what went on with me. I still keep that story to me knowing she heard it from others and never asked me a word of it. Her respect for my soul my words and verses were great and that was her way of showing her love for me.

She was my roommate in the 1990s when we did our bachelor's. My bachership was not easy...I was like a new bride married to the wrong man. I did not conform and I had questions, people in my profession required adherence and automatic obedience which was never my nature. So I stood out, the black sheep of my batch, the villain, but I had my virtues that no one can inscribe those days' stories without me in it.

She did care about me, if I was allowed to tie a rakhi on her I would have tied it around her wrist as she taught me it was not blood but a heart that mattered. I had a half-sister who never bothered about me and I was not even part of that so-called family. The hostel fee which was my dad gave me was my only connection with them. My stepmother was such a rude figure that even the word love would be a shame if referred to her.

My friend, my sister, my roommate, let us call her Bindhu, got connected to me, and felt should protect me after my first attempt to say farewell to a world I felt I don't belong. She was at my bedside. Two years later after I was on all sorts of meds, to make me a right fit, a tailor-made one to my teacher's whims and fancy, I became studious. I changed. One day I and Bindhu were walking that road which took us to our old college, Just near a metal chip collected for road work, I fell down 

Our country people have a bad habit, they won't look even if someone falls as they are afraid of any police involvement or court proceedings, Bindhu was helpless, her books she lost She saw me going to serious convulsions and she just cried for help, no one bothering, she took my face after fits stopped in her lap, I lay there unconscious.

There was a friend of mine who did her medicine and quite rebel like me and she put me in her car, the two women, she and Bindhu, there were men but just viewers, At the hospital, they found me jittery and disoriented. They wanted my pee to check if I was drugged or what it was .Bindhu had to let me pee and collect it with her hand...no gloves but love and sincerity only those days, we never had many gloves in hospital and those were days of metal needles, steel sterilizer and glass syringes and washed gloves used again...yes there was a time like that...

Bindhu rested only that evening and like a mother bird, she came back at night to look after me. I was wondering what happened to me but it took me a lot later to understand that friend of mine.

She stood for me at every peril, every difficulty with out a word of annoyance. She has shared her homely food With me. Her mother's love for me.

When I failed and succeeded she was the same, not much excitement not letting down, but my strength in all the chaos.

Months before she came home when I visited India, but I was not there so she clicked a photo with my child and let the world know I exist, exist for her.

So Rakhee can be tied around such a sister's arm and you don't need the common genome to love and care and protect...you need a heart and soul. She is my sister...