how well i knew that honey dipped tone; it meant my chellam wanted something i wasn't going to want to give.
'yes chellam?' my eyes remained glued to the computer, hoping she would believe i was working and leave me alone.
no such luck; she pounced. 'can i take tomorrow off?'
aha! she had exams coming, and wanted to stay home, listening to taylor swift, pretending to study.
'you're not supposed to guess so easily,' she pouted, 'what if i was sick or something! i could be, you know!'
much coaxing and cajoling and smiling and sweet words, accompanied by promises she had no intentions of keeping followed.
'i swear i will study.' she said. mmm yes, and i was next in line for president of the country!
'it's not happening chellam,' i repeated, now on auto pilot, 'not unless you fall down the stairs and break your neck, or something.'
foolish words, but no sooner were they out of my mouth than she ran up the spiral stairs, slid down three steps, and clutched at her neck, moaning and groaning in a manner that would put a ramsay brothers ghost to shame.
eyes flashing up from the computer screen, i checked quickly for damage. none, thank heavens. i hadn't threaded my eyebrows or upper lip in 6 days, and god knows i wasn't prepared to face super bright emergency lights in the hospital!
finally, fed up of trying to convince the 'heartless adult', she rose from this pretend swoon and, voice quivering with outrage, declared, 'you don't love me. you only love my brother. otherwise why would you let him get away with all sorts of things, and yet be so mean to me?'
oh god, i wasn't about to feed that monster tonight! instead, i asked her, and very nicely too, i must say, to go to bed, and get some sleep.
furious that she could neither have her way nor argue about it, she snapped, 'just admit you love him more, ok? just admit it ma. life would be so much easier!' and stalked off to her room.
i had thought these very thoughts 25 years ago, but never had the courage to say it to my mother. did i believe it was true then? yes of course, and it had hurt like crazy. did i still believe it? till a few years ago, yes. then i stopped thinking about it. i didn't make comparisons anymore.
later that evening, after her brother came back home from a movie, i sat with him at the dining table, and we spoke about what happened.
'you say i make you out to be the villain of every fight between you and your sister, and take up for her raja, and she says i love you more. funny how differently both of you see things, isn't it?'
'yes ma, and you know what, you can't change my mind,' first-born said, looking up from his mushroom dosa, 'and you can't change hers either. there is no winning this particular battle ma.'
and therein lies one fundamental truth of raising more than one child- each believes the other is loved more. talk about parenting being complicated!
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