The Strange Language of Siblings

My brother never knocked before entering my room.

He borrowed my pen and somehow forgot to return it every single time. 

Ice creams and chocolates were snatched and stolen. 

If something broke at home, I would conveniently shift the blame, the brothers always got scolding. At times I would save them, but mostly I was giggling on the inside. 

Growing up, we were the kind of siblings who constantly beat and bite each other and would gang up on the eldest brother too.

We argued over the TV remote. We fought about who got the front seat in the car. We complained to Mum about each other. Then five minutes later, we'd be laughing again as if nothing had happened.

That's the strange thing about siblings.

Somewhere between all the teasing, the arguments and the endless banter, love quietly finds its own language.

It isn't spoken very often. It's packed into questions like...

"Did you reach?"

"Have you eaten?"

"Call me when you're free."

Or the reassuring...

"Don't worry, I'll handle it."

Maybe that's why, as we've grown older, Raksha Bandhan feels different.

Not because we've changed. But because we've finally understood what was always there.

The thread was never the relationship.

It was simply a reminder of it. And perhaps that's what growing up really is.

Realising that the people who know your most embarrassing stories, your worst mistakes and every version of you are often the ones who stand beside you the longest.

So this Raksha Bandhan, I find myself feeling grateful.

Not for the rituals. Not for the gifts.

But for the strange, unspoken language only siblings seem to understand.

And thank you for never knocking before entering my room.

I don't think I'd have it any other way.

- Swati