Suvarna sang along with me today, at ammamma’s house. I watched her face, as I followed her lead, wondering what was going on in her mind. These days I never know when my singing will irritate her, and when she wants to join me. I know that even if she opened her eyes and saw me watching her, it wouldn’t bother either of us. We watch each other all the time, whether we are singing or not. At least I watch her. In the middle of the song, ammamma asked suvarna to measure her blood pressure. Suvarna got up, walked up to the door, gave instructions to somebody and came back, and I continued to sing, now I am irritated. But long years of singing together take over, and we carry on. I signal that I want to stop soon, and she winds down, and we stop. Ammamma pats me on the hand, but her mind is on suvarna, I know.

You might think that I would write about myself, But I fear that it is really of interest only to me; suvarnas story is so much more interesting, and I want to tell it[1]. Also because I don’t know suvarna anymore, and I want to remember when I stopped.

As a child, Suvarna was shorter than me, for a long time, and maybe because of that she stayed short in my mind. I remember always telling her what to do, because she was there, and could be told. I don’t think she ever asked me for anything, sometimes she grabbed, and we would fight, and a look of fierce determination would appear on her face, and the words would disappear. Our squabbles were violent but totally silent, we didn’t want appa and amma to hear. I think she was scared of me, now looking back, because she would scratch and pinch but never really hit me. I think I was much colder, and always more angry. She must have been lonely, always around me, but never really in my life.

Did we ever talk? I remember her sitting along with me outside a dark hospital, waiting for somebody to tell us why we were there, an adult walked by and told us we had another little sister. I remember the fear that something bad was happening, but it wasn’t, really. Its just suvarna’s frightened face that scared me. I remember crying along with her, when we were in madras, under the stairs, in a strange house, I think it was my aunts. We were waiting for my mother to come home, and I kept asking suvarna, ‘do I look like I cried’, and she said ‘no you don’t’. I don’t think remember being that unhappy again ever. I am sure we had many happy moments in our childhood, but when I remember suvarna it is always when we were scared together.

When she was around 10 or 12 she started talking to Krishna, our little sister. I didn’t notice them much, but they had very strange conversations, and sometimes I think they laughed at me. They used to talk to each other in code, and a clothes cupboard was mentioned regularly. By then, I was busy being responsible in the house, and feeling put upon in my studies. Amma desperately wanted all three of us to be doctors, I desperately ran away. I remember her talking at suvarna constantly, I think even then amma knew she would listen, and I would not. I was obsessed with my inner world, I wished that suvarna and Krishna stopped knocking on the door, and let me be. i wonder what was happening to suvarna then? She studied very hard, I know, and she had friends who were strange and who really loved her. She even fought with her best friend who said something rude about me, which I didn’t care about. I wish she hadn’t, that girl went on to become someone important in life, who could have been a good friend to suvarna. But all this is only the introduction, for me suvarna’s story is the story of a good girl who studied hard, and then married, and who went on to have a really wonderful life, if only she would see it. For me suvarna’s story is the story of a thoroughly modern woman, someone who I am not.