The Dragon and The Knight

Because of Eshita, I never played Rahman again. It brought back a flood of painful memories and echoed a sweet humming voice somewhere at the back of my head.  Because of Eshita, mom never cooked Punjabi again. No one would eat it now, though. She was the only one in this Tamil family who had a never ending craving for the northern cuisine.  Because of Eshita, I never used the second floor of the house. Her bedroom and study was still filled with the scent of her floral perfume.

I’m a guy. I’ve got to stop getting so emotional. I reminded myself.

Dinners were now violently peaceful, movie nights a little less dramatic and weekends heavily vacant. I knew my mom’s heart tinged with pain whenever she heard Chinna Chinna Aasai. She would uncomfortably move into the nearest room and come back an hour later with puffy red eyes.

“Why won’t you stop pushing me?” I remember my very fuming sister asking my very dumbstruck parents an exceptionally long time ago. “I’m 20. I think I very well know what is good and what is bad.”

“Stop terrorising mom and dad!” I budged in between them as my big brother instinct kicked in. “It’s enough. Really. You’ve got to stop hurting everyone.”

Eshita’s face locked into a rigid hostility as she gave me a sharp look. The phrase If looks could kill resonated in my mind. It was like a cascade of pointed daggers was bombarded in my way. But that was not going to stop me from stopping her. The annoying twenty year old was testing the limits of my patience.

“You don’t talk.” She said coldly as she looked right into my eyes. “Just because you’re five years elder to me doesn’t mean I have to blindly obey you.”

I didn’t say anything. I looked right into her eyes. Mom and dad might be scared of her. I was not. There was a limit to being reckless. Eshita crossed that line a very long time ago.

She looked back at me without blinking. She tightly gritted her teeth as a frown fell upon her perfect eyebrows and her eyes that were thickly lined with kohl welled up. Before I could see the tears roll down her cheek, she turned around sharply and ran up the stairs to her room. I saw how her thick and long hair shifted against her shoulders as she loudly slammed the door.

So annoyingly stubborn. I thought.

I couldn’t sleep that night. My mind kept wandering as I lay wide awake starring at the ceiling. I could imagine what mom and dad were feeling like. I knew how much they loved her. I knew she loved them too. Leukemia would’ve devastated the spirit of any other normal adolescent girl. It would’ve left their family in a constant state of prayers and hospital visits. But with Eshita, the process reversed. She pushed everyone away and started throwing temper tantrums when we had to take her to the hospital.

I never understood what was going inside that reckless brain of hers.

I had to do something. I had to make her see sense. I couldn’t imagine my life without her. I closed my eyes, hoping it would help. But the stillness of the night screeched inside my head. It was two A.M when I heard the door open.

It was her.

“Gritik?” her voice was surprisingly feeble “You asleep?”

After all that you’re putting me through, how could I be? I thought.

“Come in” I managed to smile at her as I sat up and switched on the lights.

She walked in, pulled a chair and sat opposite to me. Her eyes were red and messily black with the kohl that had smudged. Her lips were dry, and her face looked unhealthily pale. Despite all that, she looked innocently beautiful.

“Remember the stories you used to tell me?” She asked “About brave Knights who saved the princesses from the dragons?”

I didn’t understand why she had chosen that as a conversation starter. I nodded.

“Well, those stories didn’t help me cope with reality that well.” She said.

It hit me now.

“Yea” I agreed. “I probably should’ve told you about the dragon that saved the princess from the Knight. You would’ve learnt not to be so superficially judgmental about things.”

“So the cancer is the knight, Chemotherapy is the dragon and I’m the Princess?” She gave a weak smile.

My heart stung as she used the word cancer without a politer substitute. She was so straight forwardly mean, both with herself and the rest of the world.

“Why aren’t you cooperating? Because Chemo is just as scary as the dragon? ” I came straight to the point.

“Is that what you think?” She exclaimed. “That I’m refusing it because I think it’s painful?”

Yea. I thought. At least that was how you were acting.

“Not exactly, but your recent activities were pretty unimpressive for a Gryffindor” I said.

“It’s because it’s not fair!!” She sounded very angry. “It’s not supposed to be like this!”

I was taken aback. She continued in a much more composed pitch after a short pause.

“I was supposed to graduate, get a cool job, watch you get married, see you have kids, look at mom and dad grow old together and then have kids of my own. Then, I was supposed to bring them to your place for their summer vacation and watch them play with your kids. We were supposed to grow up together, remember?  ”

Her eye swelled up again. But this time, she did not turn away. She let the tears fall.

A burst of sharp feelings stabbed my heart as I watched my little sister cry. How wrong I had been. She did have a soft heart after all. The arrogant outer impression was just a protective front for the sensitive heart that was inside.

“You’re going to be absolutely okay as long as I’m around.” I said as I took my very broken sister into my arms. “I won’t let anything bad get near you. I promise.”

“I worship your optimism” She sobbed into my tee shirt.

“Please don’t force me for Chemo. I don’t want my last memories to be contaminated with surgeons and hospitals. I want it to be pensive perfect memories with amma, daddy and you.” She begged.

I understood. It made sense. But I couldn’t agree. How could we not force her to take all the chances that would help her stay with us? She read my mind.

“I know you can’t” she said. “I just wanted you to know.”

The stabbing feelings sharpened again.  She got up to leave.

“Gritik, promise me, despite everything I say, please believe that I love you more than you know.”

I nodded. I’ve always believed that regardless of how impossible she made it to feel.

I don’t remember how she left. . I don’t remember how many years had passed with all the vicious loneliness. I don’t remember if she took Chemo or not. I don’t remember how I managed to cope with the reality of my life after she was gone. I don’t remember how I offered emotional strength to my parents. But I remember how she turned around before closing the door that day.

“Remember me.” She had said.