You hair looks frizzy!

"Your hair looks frizzy!" I yelled at her as soon as she entered my room.

She didn't seem to bother about my rant and sat down on the bed.

"It's raining cats and dogs outside, you don't have to go today Mike. Tell the others they don't have to go either", she implored, referring to the loose group of fellow nitwits that were to join me for the most important meeting of our lives.

I ignored her and put on my neat leather tuxedo and combed my hair. A look outside and I realized she was right about the weather. The storm was its worst.

Flashes of lightning lit up a morning darkened as tar by the thunderclouds.

"I still think you should fix your hair, Tanya. The occasion is too important for us to have you walking around with that bird's nest on your head!" I reiterated my earlier rant. This time she burst out laughing and in an instant dissolved every molecule of seriousness I had put into my concerned diatribe against her hair.

I picked up the car keys and made my way towards the garage and stopped at the main gate. My sister had her traditions before she would let me leave the house- it was an everyday affair that has never been lost on us since our days as young orphans in Delhi.

A small kiss on my forehead, a tight hug, a red "tikka" on my forehead, and a sprinkle of her special "Amrit" that she'd always bring with her after returning from the Gurudwara at 430 AM in the morning.

I pulled out the Corolla from the garage and drove out into the storm. It took me around 30 minutes to get to the cemetery and as I pulled in, I caught sight of three, very familiar faces waiting patiently under a large tree. All had red tikkas on their foreheads and all held vials of "Amrit" in their right hands.

My eyes were already wet with tears before I approached them. One of the girls, Sonia, ran towards me and dug her head into my coat, wetting it with the rivers that flowed from her eyes. The rain made it hard to see the tears of the other two - a muscular hulk named Diven and a tall dusky damsel by the name Ariel.

We stood politely before the grave until finally, Tanya showed up.

We stared at in peace without a word but could hold no longer.

"I told you to fix your hair, Tanya! This is a serious occasion for us!"  

"And I told you all not to come here in the storm," she replied.

Diven looked up from the ground and suddenly thundered, "Stop rubbing salt on my wounds! You're late enough as it is! "

My sister shrugged her shoulders, "Diven! Still my little strong boy!", she pulled on his cheeks but the monster didn't respond.

The girls didn't look up and continued to weep, now having knelt down at the grave.  

In almost ritualistic unison, each of us emptied our vials of Amrit unto the gravestone.

Tanya then looked at each of us and gave us individual hugs and kisses on foreheads. The girls hadn't stopped crying since we stopped at the grave so they got extended hugs while we "men" continued to swallow tears.

"Until next year Tanya. Keep the weather sunny next time". 

"Until next year kids. Never let the love stop flowing" 

As we moved towards my car, each of us looked back at the gravestone one last time. Diven and I wiped away the red tikka that we had applied to our foreheads in the morning, the girls kept theirs.

Tanya Singh

Beloved Sister.

Mother of Orphans

"Always Remembering, Always waiting - Rahul, Sonia, Ariel, and Diven" 

1985 - 2010

My older sister had very frizzy, unkempt hair when they found her hanging from the ceiling fan in her room in Delhi.