Rajib Goswami
I was the only child of my parents.
Then one fine morning dad brought her home.
With curly, unbrushed hair she was standing at the door with my father.
And my mom started shouting.
O God, you have been bringing cats, dogs… but this time a human being…. what can I do with this man, ah… get out, I say get out… no place for any more orphan in my room.
Anita… please, Anita… look at her… she is thin and pale… she is hungry. She was standing there, at the corner of the market… can’t speak… don’t know how to beg.
What I can do for that? You should have informed the police and they can get her to some orphanage.
Please Anita, she is a child. A child? … she? … my God… she is at least 16.
No, no, you are wrong… she is of our child’s age.
O God… do you have any idea?…
Okay… I don’t have any… please, give her a shelter.
And mom went back to kitchen. Dad laughed for he had won the battle. The girl could stay. Then dad introduced me to her.
See, here… your brother.
And I saw her eyes smiling… and all the light of fathomless blue sky fell upon me, spontaneously I said… dad, is she my didi, didi bhai.
Yes, my boy… certainly she’s your elder sister.
