Sibling rivalry is inevitable. The only sure way to avoid it is to have one child.
My parents had no intentions of avoiding it.
Bicker,Banter,Laughter and Love....Sun-kissed and without a worry in the world..we’d climbed every mountain and rolled down every hill!
I dedicate this post to my only sibling (without whom I would have had the most painless and gain-less life!) and to our rather interesting childhood.
Phase One:
October 27, 1986
Life has never been the same ever since I was deprived of my only child status and that was just the beginning. Talk about life changing, and I hadn’t had the slightest presentiment about what destiny had in store!
Being an only child makes you a brat but having a sibling often makes you a victim. I was not even close to being a brat when he arrived!
My nine month long anxiety attack lead to the most hyped entry in the Ambat family history, the most adorable baby in the world had arrived with a wee too much fanfaronade!
My grand mom weeping out of sheer joy, her oldest son finally had a son to carry forward our Syrian Christian lineage and family name for generations to come!
(Grand mom was deeply disappointed when I was born, she so wanted a grandson…years later, the more I started resembling her, vanity got the better of her!)
Back to brother-he hogged the limelight, stole my parents and had me exiled to my grandparent’s place where I lived in absolute denial.
Phase Two:
I wasn’t abandoned by my folks after all but yes, I did return home to share my domestic space with this new entrant, brother. That was the beginning of a short-lived era of rapprochement.
We grew up in Wellington, in a scary antediluvian British bungalow for most part of our growing years.I was on my way out of the cute phase with one foot into the ugly gawky phase (face?) while the little one was basking in undivided attention and getting cuter by the second.
Who would even want to look at a scrawny sere sibling?
I moved on with my vapid life….hiding my precious teeth under the pillow for the tooth fairy, burying my nose in books about mystery solvers and secret castles, discovering the sheer joy of scribbling on walls and finding innovative ways of discarding unwanted vegetables and milk from my staple diet.
Brother starts talking. I don’t understand why parents are so excited! It’s not their first child to speak. Sigh.
Brother, is smooth. I assume he likes girls. It’s one of the first words he coined-Girlie!
I am a girl, that makes me girlie. My name is Aswana. That makes me Asha+girlie.
I’m 25 and the name still sticks. My parents have forgotten they named me Aswana.
Nobody who knows my parents know my real name. My friends came home with me on one of the summer breaks and once we got back to college, even they had forgotten my real name.
Thank you brother!
Phase Three:
He is fast! Brother is up and running. He learnt to walk shortly after.
He’s already a budding sport person. Father is thrilled.
Brother is quite the trencherman; he has been feeding like a shoal of barracuda since birth.
Mother is thrilled.
She looks at me sadly. What do I do with this girl? She looks malnutrition.
Brother lives on only vegetables and swears by curd rice.
For me it was a life defining moment when I first tasted the variety that once walked on four legs or once swam across water bodies somewhere in the world…It was love at first bite!
It is a strong possibility that there was a mix-up at birth. There was a Palakkad Iyer lady who had also given birth in the hospital room across where mom had given birth to brother!
Phase Four:
I’m doomed. I have officially crossed the cute phase. It is also sinking in that it looks like brother will never have an ugly akward phase.
Brother is bright. At two and a half he dictates terms to the parents. I don’t know how he manages this but by two and a half we are on the same school bus and yes, he is the cynosure of all eyes and I am his under-aged nanny. Brother realizes he doesn’t like school in a few days, and is going on a one year break, god had answered my prayers. Apparently not, the next one year until his re-entry I am hounded and asked about him by seniors and juniors alike. Brother, I can’t wait to have you back! I like being a nanny to a spokesperson. Brother is back in school. He is the brightest young star. Pretty seniors pull him out of my hold and carry him into class, teachers love him and me, well I am still the wallflower.
Believe me at four its difficult to educate a kid on the principles of sharing. Thank god for small mercies, I didn’t have to share my pink frills and doll houses with the sibling. However, there was a negative side to this as well. I returned home from school every day to a post-war scenario.
My dolls were handicapped and their homes destroyed while the ostensibly peaceful culprit sat looking all guiltless and mother thrilled at how the sweet child amuses himself all alone at home.
I think I hate brother! Now I couldn’t wait for him to start schooling any sooner.
Phase Five:
The stars are changing positions. Muhaha.
To ameliorate my suffering God makes brother human finally.
I believe fervently in god again!
Brother is getting there. He’s learning the art of breaking things.
He loves noises-mainly crashing, shattering, slamming, banging…
This love for noise still remains. You should know by his genres of music.
Like all boys he hasn’t discovered a civil form of communication yet.
His actions speak for him. So little brother here is quite the hector
Having one child makes you a parent; having two makes you a referee!
So my mom doubled up as both.
He lost no opportunity to display his physical strength and my self-preservation instincts kept me close to my mother for a long time.
My vocals took a sharp turn from puling and shrill squeaking to a more profound high pitched screaming and shouting. That year I also landed in the school choir. Coincidence?
Like I said the stars have changed positions.
Phase Six:
My dear sibling brought out the best in me that anyone has ever brought out-my vicious wagging tongue(a weapon that most people still consider my greatest strength!)
I also mastered the art of faking extreme pain every time brother even came close to attacking me while dad was anywhere in the vicinity.
Shortly, I found myself actively involved in dramatics at school.
In reality I honed my acting skills at home, in a very consistent and determined manner and even today attributes to the drama queen in me!
However our childhood did have its rare moments of collective sibling brilliance, like for instance the time we locked mom out of the house and watched cartoons for a really long time, the time when we managed to push a visitor’s bike into a gutter nearby or when we lost our dog during one of the evening walks.
I’m sure people visited our home for sheer entertainment value.
My father loves cricket. It is understandable that my brother play the sport but why me?
I still don’t know but I had spent my entire summer break playing cricket with my brothers and their friends. One of my cousin’s friends thought I was a boy the whole time. I hated him for years. I was not sure why.
I thought I quite liked my tom boy image but I guess I never quite forgot to wear matching hair bands ever since. My brother really got along with that boy. Would you wanna know why!
Phase Seven:
Life is getting even better. Brother is now in the “recalcitrant” phase.
I think the parents like me better. Muhaha.
I don’t get beaten up anymore though I still wag that vicious little tongue of mine at him in moments of absolute joy and sorrow…I can be exceedingly evil and cloyingly sweet too!
Brother is the latest under-cover agent. I soon discovered that he works for himself, I think it’s his latest hobby.
An unusually argus-eyed brother spies on me at school and home, eavesdrops on my phone conversations and reads my diary whenever he can get a hold of it!
He disapproves of my friends, detests my crushes and is the official snitch only now, working full time for the parents.
I can’t wait to leave for college.
Final Phase:
Distance does make the heart grow fonder!
Me leaving to College was the best thing that happened to us, we actually started talking and confiding in the years that followed.
I don’t know when this happened, but somewhere along the way little brother transformed into a fine young man.
Today he’s an accomplished man and holds a dual degree in “Selective Listening”&“Smooth Talking the Parents”.
He sports the a hirsute look , that I totally disapprove.
He takes off on road trips to never land and leaves me to answer paranoid mom.
I occasionally indulge in the extremes…fussing over him or staking him-He hates it both alike!
As long as we have each other we will never run out of fights and I think that will always hold good.
I guess you get the drift!
We still have our indifferences but we have decided to peacefully co-exist all the same.
I love him to bits and I guess there is an ounce of love for me hidden away in some corner of his little heart.
