Conversations

Love is this enchanted feeling that also comes with a package of sleepless nights. When you are engrossed with the flirty words that come from the other end of the line, like soft music that takes away your sleep. The teary fights that keep your pillow soaking wet and you feel alone, guilty like you committed a crime to your heart. Well, I wasn’t in love, my sister was.

My sister and I share a bed ever since my room was under renovation. I wasn’t too thrilled by the idea but she sure does have a good room. On our first night sleeping beside each other, well less sleeping for me, I figured out she had a boyfriend. Well we never find time to bond, she worked evening shifts, and I had school. She slept the whole day and spoke on the phone all night. The flirty talks were like a whole cringe concert for me. While I ruffled my positions from one side to another to find a side where the sound of her “high-pitched-in-love” voice did not reach my ear, I slept for 45 minutes. The next night was better. I had prepared myself, I slept for 3 hours that evening. But the hushed tones of their conversation, so that Papa and Mumma don’t find out, still were like amplified sound waves to my ears. I slept for 2 hours that night. 

Things got better when I started annoying their conversations. Also, the sleepless nights helped me get most of my work done. One particular night, my sister came home looking like someone knocked the ice cream off her hand. She was on the verge of blowing up. Her eyes were soaked in an ocean. I was sure they broke up. Oh, how I was thrilled to get my sleep back. But it was all plain lies. While they fought loudly on the phone about something grave, I could not figure out. Then me being a pokey girl, fishing for some brewing tea took the phone from my sister and asked her boyfriend what had actually happened that my sister is believing that the world is about to end. He simply says, “Aryu, I just didn’t sit next to her in the cab ride back home”. I burst out into a fit of laughter.

Two months go on like this. 'Boards' were breathing down my neck and I found myself sleeping on my physics book. My sister temporarily shifted to the sofa while my parents considered me as their godchild, while they pampered me with coffee and energy bars so I could stay up the night, studying. Well, it worked. And when the boards were done, my sister and her boyfriend came back to haunt my sleep.

One day, as they fought over who ate her last piece of chocolate, loudly, like a savior, Mumma walked in. I rushed into my blanket, pretending to be asleep as my sister cut the call in hesitation. That night, all superheroes wore nighty.

Its been 2 years. Their tones became lullabies for me. With the tiredness of work and running from one end of the city to another, amidst the heavy metal concert of the traffic, I found soul music in their flirty conversation. Well, my room was ready but I found a home feeling on the right side of my sister’s bed. Space where when you cry in the middle of the night, you find an instant shoulder t lean on. A helper to be on a lookout if our parents were up. A room to play music and jump in the middle of the night, not alone, but the three of us. Not everything lasts forever. While the days of the conversations can be counted by my fingers, I cherish every fight, every cringe, every annoyance till the good room comes to me, and my side isn’t just the right side of the bed, but the whole bed itself.

Arthur: Arya Jayan