“Having a sister is like having a built-in best friend who remembers every embarrassing thing you’ve ever done and still loves you.”—Amy Li
Among the many dazzling relationships life offers, the sibling bond stands tall—magnificent, maddening, and magical. One minute they’re your fiercest critic, the next they’re your fiercest protector. Friends, foes, frenemies—call them what you may, siblings are simply inseparable. Whether it’s a thunderstorm outside or a stormy mood inside, they are your constant co-conspirator and comforter. From pillow fights to shared secrets, the bond remains iron-clad—unfiltered, unshaken, and unforgettable.
They’re the custodians of childhood mischief, the coaches of family secrets, and often, the only people who remember how terrible your fashion choices once were, and love you anyway.
I have my share of disagreements with my elder sister, now a grandmother (yes, time flies when you’re busy arguing). Still, without her, I feel like a GPS without a signal—lost and increasingly irritable. She’s currently off to her daughter’s place in Bangalore, and I miss her more than I miss sugar in my tea.
Thankfully, we live in the same lane, just a few houses apart, yet the strings of our hearts are more tightly knotted than our curtain cords. When we get together, reminiscing over childhood, the stories flow non-stop. Our children wisely retreat, muttering, “Here they go again,” and leave us to our memory marathon.
She knows my unfulfilled wishes, secret crushes, and epic failures and has the good sense not to remind me of them during family gatherings. The other day, she suddenly recalled my back courtyard dance performed in a wildly mismatched outfit that looked like a cross between a curtain and a tablecloth. She clapped like I was Madhuri Dixit, only to get us both scolded by Mom later. But then she held my hand and whispered, “Mom’s just tired, not angry. She loved your dance.” That moment still melts me.
Suddenly, I’m transported back to Nilokheri—a sleepy town near Karnal—where we spent our early years. One day, while Mom napped, I convinced “Anu di” to come with me to see the train tracks. Trains meant visiting our grandparents, and to us, that was adventure incarnate. Just as we were planning to jump onto the tracks (or so the adult world thought), a colleague of our father spotted us and dragged us home, ruining what we considered a promising career in trainspotting. We braced for a royal scolding, but our father gently explained the dangers. That was the first time I realised that lectures could be scarier than punishments.
Nilokheri was tiny—everyone knew everyone, and privacy was a myth. But oh, what a cozy, laughter-laced childhood we had! Over the years, through school corridors and college canteens, through heartbreaks and happy reunions, she’s been the oak tree in my life—tall, steady, and full of shade. She shielded me from bullies in school and saved me from ragging in university. I spent my first week in her hostel room, practically squatting like an emotional refugee. She didn’t complain—not once.
Today, as we walk into our mellowing years, we find joy in reliving those memories. Our husbands often say, “You two don’t even notice we’re sitting here. The yard has turned into your private theatre!” True. In each other’s company, we forget the stress, the mess, and the rest of life’s adult drama.
After all, next to the parent-child relationship, the sibling bond is the longest-running show in the theatre of life, and often the funniest.
So, celebrate siblinghood. Laugh together, cry together, tease each other relentlessly, and never let go of those magical threads. Fold these memories, wonderous and weightless, in a paper, keep them in your pocket and cherish them.
As the humorist Sam Levenson once said:
“Siblings: children of the same parents, each of whom is perfectly normal until they get together.”
Dr Ritu Kamra Kumar
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