My birthday when I was 8, I would be cutting the cake midst all the causalities. The first piece, I would have put in her mouth, instead of that Amar's who never let me bowl the first over. My birthday when I was 16, the cake would be waiting and the clock ticking. As soon as its 12, she would have been there beside me wishing me in hugs and waiting by staring into my phone, to see who would wish me first. I mean, second. My birthday when I was 24, She would be still there with my favorite Pongal ready at home as I come late from office, to celebrate that one day we never miss. She would be sharing all those little cute faced Childtime photos, holding and hitting me. She would be fighting all day and night with me, crying and complaining, and yet being my best friend. When I was in hostel, my phone would have been full of her texts chattering non-stop all the time. She would have been teasing and blackmailing in my girlfriend's name at home for little treats. She would have never made me feel alone when it comes to roam in Sultan Bazaar. She would have been "my sister."
She would have been, but she wasn't. It all happened; a year ago I was born. My family was unlucky to have her. Being one of those thousands of middle class Indian families, my parents found it hard to give place for a daughter. They were counting their expenditures. The expenses of studies, her little dreamy jewels, and returns she would bring home, forget not the dowry, and the losses henceforth. Yes, they were right as to their part. But, they did not prove successful in providing their son with a friend, trustworthy and accessible, kind and funny, they could never give him (me) something he (I) dreamed of. The lessons they learnt about families were such. They remembered their youth, money and problems. I don't know, into what ruins, did their memories of siblings run. Yet they said, "you are lucky to be one, you enjoy being royal, you get what you want, you don't know your advantages." in spite of all this, I would have had "my sister."
"Today was her sixteenth birthday; along the necklace road did we stray.
I ate her chocolate fudge, as she frowned at her grudge.
She showed her talent to taunt, until was no memory left to haunt.
Mom made my Pongal today, she shed tears in her own way.
Cried her saying I hate this, until mom made again her favorite dish.
Finally she fell asleep on me, as her pain set all afree.
I wish god with a heart pure, in all heavens shall she endure.
Come no perils in her life, not even when she is a wife.
I pray god to fulfil her joys, and play not like with his other toys",
Would have I written about her on her birthday in my diary and titled the couplette "my sister."
It was an Indian preset that claimed daughter of a family to be the economic burden, and a financial cutoff of a son's counterpart. It must have been true long back then. But today, a twenty year old girl is more or at least evenly likely to get an opportunity that a twenty year old guy gets. It is still applicable for the current scenario, that the expenditure on a girl shall be higher. But, given a chance to expect, the probability of women advancing into what men are today, is higher, and can visibly be seen in the developed European countries.So, a parent ought to consider it again, the thought of having a girl child, so that he might proudly point to her and say "my sister."
Kill not a girl child; she too is "your son's sister."
P.S.: the thought is purely fictional and has got nothing to do with my life, parents and other compatible environments. The words afree and couplette are parts of no diction.
She would have been, but she wasn't. It all happened; a year ago I was born. My family was unlucky to have her. Being one of those thousands of middle class Indian families, my parents found it hard to give place for a daughter. They were counting their expenditures. The expenses of studies, her little dreamy jewels, and returns she would bring home, forget not the dowry, and the losses henceforth. Yes, they were right as to their part. But, they did not prove successful in providing their son with a friend, trustworthy and accessible, kind and funny, they could never give him (me) something he (I) dreamed of. The lessons they learnt about families were such. They remembered their youth, money and problems. I don't know, into what ruins, did their memories of siblings run. Yet they said, "you are lucky to be one, you enjoy being royal, you get what you want, you don't know your advantages." in spite of all this, I would have had "my sister."
"Today was her sixteenth birthday; along the necklace road did we stray.
I ate her chocolate fudge, as she frowned at her grudge.
She showed her talent to taunt, until was no memory left to haunt.
Mom made my Pongal today, she shed tears in her own way.
Cried her saying I hate this, until mom made again her favorite dish.
Finally she fell asleep on me, as her pain set all afree.
I wish god with a heart pure, in all heavens shall she endure.
Come no perils in her life, not even when she is a wife.
I pray god to fulfil her joys, and play not like with his other toys",
Would have I written about her on her birthday in my diary and titled the couplette "my sister."
It was an Indian preset that claimed daughter of a family to be the economic burden, and a financial cutoff of a son's counterpart. It must have been true long back then. But today, a twenty year old girl is more or at least evenly likely to get an opportunity that a twenty year old guy gets. It is still applicable for the current scenario, that the expenditure on a girl shall be higher. But, given a chance to expect, the probability of women advancing into what men are today, is higher, and can visibly be seen in the developed European countries.So, a parent ought to consider it again, the thought of having a girl child, so that he might proudly point to her and say "my sister."
Kill not a girl child; she too is "your son's sister."
P.S.: the thought is purely fictional and has got nothing to do with my life, parents and other compatible environments. The words afree and couplette are parts of no diction.