Sibling Revelry

Being born In April was an unacceptable accident that could never be helped! For, the school closed for summer vacation by the end of March and so, every year I could never celebrate my birthday with my classmates. It was indeed a renting heartburn to see my friends, born during the ‘‘school-open’ months, enjoy their birthdays. Coming in colorfully dressed, a casual brandishing of their box of chocolates worked magic. The birthday girl became the best friend of every other girl in the class from at least two days before; got enviable veto powers on so many matters...I was sad it never happened to me. I did attempt to try a solution. With my mother.

“Amma, Can’t we prepone birthdays?  Example..my birthday. The school’s always closed at that time. Do you think I could wear new clothes and distribute chocolates on the last day of the term instead?” 

“No...no! Birthdays are never celebrated in advance...it lessens your life span!  In fact, it is a good practice to observe birthdays after one-two days of the actual date. It enhances longevity.”

However, one blessed year, when I turned nine; the school announced holidays from the second week of April, letting me celebrate birthday with my classmates. Pre-celebration celebrations became more exciting. Back then, we never shopped for pre-stitched dresses. My skirts, blouses and frocks were tailor-made perfect fits. My mother made the best dresses. For this birthday, I was wearing a Kanchipuram silk long skirt- Peacock-green with gold and orange border with a puff-sleeved blouse also of matching gold and orange. There was only one bangle store at the corner of the next street where I shopped for matching bangles, nail polish and ribbons. On the eve, after dinner, was the henna program. My sister and I sat patiently as my mother adorned our hands with henna. Since it had to be kept on over-night, we had to lie still in bed, careful not to smudge the henna. We always ensured we didn’t drink any water after dinner for the fear of having to go to toilet and spoil the henna on hands!

The next morning my mother washed my hair, braided two long plaits. Adorned them with jasmine flowers after she got me dressed. As I was admiring my red hands, my sister walked in. She was also dressed in her new Kanchipuram ensemble- magenta with green border long skirt.

‘Hey! Where are you going today?” I asked.

‘Why? To school of course!” She said happily inspecting herself in the mirror.

‘But amma, it is my birthday and only I can go to school in colour dress. She must wear uniform!”

“Yes. But she will sulk and cry if only you wore the new dress!”

“But what if the teacher refuses to let her in?”

“I don’t think she will. Besides the school is due to close in a few days...look at her-“And sure enough my sister stood there, all of five years, pouting and admiring her profile before the mirror. We couldn’t break her heart.

Even as we left, I was still un-sure. But the thought of my cronies all over me and the teacher pecking my cheeks succeeded in blanking out the problem at hand. The little problem, however, oblivious to the tension she had created stepped out onto the street with me.

“Hold onto her..Don’t let her run across the road..Sit her in her class before going to yours...” my mother called after us. Swishing out long skirts and sucking on an unending supply of chocolates from my bag, we ambled along the two-kilometer sojourn to school. Dropping her off at her class, I entered mine to shouts and squeals of wishes. They admired my dress, fingered my dainty earrings and anklets, tinkled my bangles, with a constant eye on my bulging bag that contained their chocolates.

Prayers said, the class-teacher asked the girls to sing the birthday song. I stood beaming, facing the class, while they sang throatily. I basked, enjoying for all the previous years I had missed this privilege. As they clapped nine times, I went to my bag and got out the chocolate tin box. Large, red and round it carried double the number of chocolates that might actually be needed. “I have to give two to this friend, three to my best friends, two each to all teachers and oh, the ayahs always take two and the office staff....” I had bloated my figures to my father the previous evening. I had sifted the green wrappered Parry’s chocolates at least a dozen times before he admonished me.”There won’t be any left if the two of you kept popping them in, pretending to count and re-count!”

And so the chocolates crackled at their wrappers as I held the box to my teacher. ‘God bless you,” said Mrs.Shanta as she picked two. I began distributing starting from the first bench. The delight of sharing a cheap chocolate on birthday has no parallels ever!  And so was I, so immersed in the best wishes of all my buddies that I missed when someone said, ‘Shantala, your sister!” Only when the murmur grew louder and someone nudged me, I came out of my trance and glanced at the door. Sure enough, she was standing there. A tiny doll, head hung and shoulders slumped. I stopped my chore midway and hurried to her.

“Hey! What happened?”

“She sent me out!” She said with brimming eyes and stained cheeks. “She told me that I can’t wear colour dress if it was not my birthday!”

“I told you it was not allowed,” I said at which she started crying softly.  ”Ok...Ok.Dont cry.” I looked back and there were at least a dozen curious pairs of eyes and craning necks wanting to see what was happening. ”Shhh...Don’t cry! Will it help if I come and talk to her?”

“No.”

“Ok. Would you like to come and sit in my class? I could ask Shanta miss for permission, you know. She is very sweet.” I was not sure if she would let my younger sister who was in first standard sit in the fourth standard class. But I was willing to try.

“No.”She said and I was beginning to get scared. For I could sense what was coming next. Yet I did venture boldly. ”What do you want to do then?”

“I want to go home,” she said and my heart began to sink. She wanted to go home meant she WANTED to go home! She was only a baby and did not know her way back and that meant I had to escort her back home...and again comeback to school! I had not yet finished my birthday celebrations that I was so looking forward to!

“Sweetie, I still have lots of chocolates left. I could give some to you. Don’t go to your class if you don’t want to. Sit here and when the school gets over, we can both go back...Ok?” I had to try all enticements.

“No. I want to go home,” she repeated in that dead timbre voice that always heralded a tantrum.  “I want to go home....” sensing my indecision she came out with her ultimate one-liner-“I want amma....ammaaa...mommeee” she began whining and crying. The next instant, Mrs.Shanta and all of my class was by us. She only doubled her pitch.

“Shantala, take her home child,” the teacher said much to my dismay. I was expecting that she would refuse to send me amidst class. Helpless and at a loss of words I could only manage to ask –“Can I finish distributing the rest of my chocolates?”

“Yeah. But be quick.”

Gone were the giggles and abandon when I resumed with distribution. I went along lugubriously, holding the box before each girl, all the while keeping an eye on the frame sniffing and leaning at the door.

And so, I stepped out of the school compound with my sister in tow. I had to drop her, then comeback, for I had not yet given away chocolates to other teachers, office staff and ayahs.  The hot April sun beat down on us as we dragged our feet. She was suddenly very cheerful and frisked along. “Hey, don’t leave my side...come here, hold my hand,” I pulled her wondering why she could not have been half as happy inside the school. And then, I suddenly noticed.

 “Where’s your schoolbag?” She stopped. It occurred to her also only then. ” Uh! I don’t know. Maybe I kept it in my class...let’s not go back akka...I don’t want to go to my class.” I knew now she would refuse to go to school for the rest of this term. She loved home and amma far too much and jumped at the slightest excuse to absent from school. “OK. I’ll pick it up later today.”

Finally, we reached home. She squealed in delight and jumped into my mother’s arms. “Oh poor baby! Did they send you off? How cruel! I’ll talk to your teacher tomorrow,” my mother started grumbling about how heartless they could be to send a five-year-old home for not wearing uniform! But those were the rules though.

“Amma, I must go back.”

“But by the time you go, it would be the last period.”

“Yes. But our bags are there...” I tried not to think how my day was ruined. I ran back to school, but even that took time because I had to cross a railway track, climb up the twenty-eight steps to the bridge, cross the main road and run up a further four blocks. I reached class panting and sweating. I pulled out my chocolate tin box just as the final bell went off. The classes were dismissed and children, teachers all spilled on outside...I could now never go to one person and hold the box. There were so many out there and I had not that many chocolates. A few sympathetic friends still hung around me...I gave away the rest of my chocolates to them. I couldn’t take them back..After all, I had got them for my schoolmates.

For the second time that day, I was on my way home-two bags, one on either shoulder. As she wasn’t with me this time, I let myself cry... 

Moored boats (pastels on cartridge paper)