Sibling Rivalry
written by: Sudha Vishwanath
@Sudhavish1
From the time I learned to comprehend what people spoke, I have been audience to remarks like, ‘How come your second one has such a different complexion from your elder one?’ or ‘I don’t think Rihaan will grow up to be as charming as Rohan.’
I am sure these banters must have taken root half a decade ago. My helpless parents couldn’t have found a way to escape the vitriol. I now recollect how my mother’s countenance underwent drastic changes upon hearing such insensitive talks.
One vacuous aunty went to the extent of suspecting if I was adopted. “Rohan has all the features of his father, he has gone on you in complexion, but Rihaan looks neither like you nor his father.” I noticed she dramatically lowered her voice and then whispered into my mother’s ears. “Is he adopted?”
Though it was an unfamiliar word to me, I surmised that its very usage had vitiated my mother’s cheerfulness.
Wiping her misty eyes, she hugged me and showered kisses on me, making amendments to the compassionless remark passed by some random female.
The comparisons followed me like a shadow.
On the first day of school, the class teacher patted my back, “Rohan’s brother, you must study like him. He has been a perennial topper.”
I was overwhelmed to know someone had recognized me as Rohan’s brother. But the joy fizzled out when I realized that we have a common mother. It wasn’t an arduous task to identify me then.
Though I didn’t particularly appreciate being compared with him, I somehow secretly admired it when someone called me Rohan’s brother.
Rohan had carved a niche for himself as an excellent student.
He carried himself with such grace. After a day’s school, he would return home immaculate with not even a crease on his shirt, while I looked like I had hopped out of a boxing arena, with messy hair and shirt half jutting out of the pants.
Whether it was academic, personality, or carrying oneself in society, I don’t think I could ever draw parallels with my elder brother.
It might sound somewhat befuddling, but all those who shrewdly used the comparison level and tried to pass it as raillery were in for a disappointment. Their banters did not affect me whatsoever, and strangely I got closer to my brother each day. Each passing remark high lightening the difference between us only drew me nearer to him because he was an extremely loveable soul.
When I struggled with my mathematics, he became a patient tutor. How easy multiplication and division became under his tutelage.
I could fall back on him to complete my notes and my assignments while I dribbled with the ball to oblivion in the basketball court.
If my dribbling was excellent, my shooting was incredible. I became an expert in three-pointers. I wouldn’t shy away from admitting that my latent potential may have gone unnoticed if it wasn’t for my brother. Every evening, he took me to the basketball court where he played a recreational game but recognized my talent and spoke to our school sports master.
Then there was no looking back.
Though dad had expressed his concern a couple of times regarding my over-enthusiasm about the sport, which might deter my studies, Rohan had come to my rescue, debating that grades were not everything to decide one’s future.
Soon the glass case of my house got adorned with medals awarded to me to recognize my stellar performances in various basketball matches.
Rohan would arrange all my medals along with those he had won in academics.
I solicited my brother’s presence during all my matches. His presence uplifted my spirits. Each time he cheered me, it accentuated my enthusiasm to perform even better.
I was therefore anguished to learn that my selection for the state team was coinciding with his campus interview. I will miss his august presence among the audience.
“You have to learn to play matches without Rohan seated in the audience,” my mother patted my cheeks. “You never know he may be posted in another city or maybe sent abroad. His grades are exemplary.” Dad said, wishing me for the selection.
If nervousness had a smell, I might have been reeking of it. Though I was well versed with the tactics of all those I was going to play today, I still felt jittery.
Feeling a warm touch on my shoulders, I turned back and was surprised to see my brother.
“How come you are here?” I asked. “I thought you had a campus interview today.”
“I can always find a job later, but selection for the state team comes only once in a year. I want to see you through this selection today.” He smiled.
It was hard to tell if the tears that swelled up in my eyes were of joy or came due to a sudden gush of emotions.
I was afraid the coach might mistake it for perturbation.
The match was challenging, as expected. Whenever I got the ball under my control, I heard my brother shout, “Go for the three-pointers. You can do it.” As if these words had a mesmerizing effect on me, the ball went through the basket followed by the shouts of ‘Hurrah.’ I could catch a glimpse of my brother jumping out of his seat in excitement.
Free throws were my weakness. They always missed the basket. But, today, surprisingly, there was no omission on my part.
‘Rohan has forgone his campus interview for my selection, and his sacrifice would go in vain if I don’t impress the selectors.’ These were the words that constantly reverberated in my ears.
And then, when my name was announced among those selected, the loudest applause came from my brother.
If I had ever wished that I shouldn’t have had an elder brother who posed a constant threat to my very personality, then I must agree I have been an imbecile, but I don’t think I had ever been one.
- Sibling Rivalry - August 14, 2024
