Sibling squabbles

My elder sister 

like all the elder siblings

of the world 

loved to tell me

how I was rescued 

as a baby from a

filthy _talao_ in a 

nondescript town 

of northern India. 

She would laugh

satanically as she 

would remind me 

how everything from

grandparental love 

to the polka dots 

dress was handed down 

to me after her. 

In my dreams, 

I would often see 

her as this witch 

forecasting that from 

my stomach a giant

orange tree would 

grow as I swallowed 

the seeds accidentally. 

As I grew a little older, 

we literally fought

tooth and nails about

the domestic duties 

assigned by our mom. 

She would cajole me

to exchange the post-dinner 

mango shake making duty 

with her floor mopping ones. 

She will coax me into

bets so that the loser

would attend to desert 

Cooler filling duties 

while the winner would 

sleep right next to it.

We called each other 

with the choicest names 

of ogresses from the epics

and even the most banal

ones common among 

unimaginative siblings. 

In short, convinced fully

that she was indeed the

very bane of my life

how I prayed that she

gets married soon. 

Why then, did I cry 

like a baby, clutching

her left-over clothes, 

the day after her wedding.