Story Time: My sisters, my best friends

Published November 2, 2019
Illustration by Sophia Khan
Illustration by Sophia Khan

As I turn over the pages of my diary, I glance at the memories of having fun, fights or teasing my sisters. Everything runs like a movie inside my head.

When I am doing this, I resemble Leonardo Da Vinci’s painting of Mona Lisa about which people debate all over the world as to whether she is sad or smiling. Well, dear old Mona Lisa must know the reality herself, but I believe that she is doing both. When my eyes move to and fro over the lines of my diary that has stories involving my three sisters, like the one about throwing pillows at each other, it makes me sad and smile at the same time.

When my sisters were with me, I did not realise what a precious gift they were until both of them went away. Life with them was exciting and involved so much — quarrelling over little issues, enjoying board games, gossiping, not letting a single chance of playing pranks on each other go by and much more.

Now that I have mentioned playing pranks, let me tell you an interesting story.

Since I am the youngest, I usually end up bearing the brunt of my sisters’ jokes and pranks. I remember the time when our whole family had gone to the park on Sunday. I was on the swing when both my mischievous sisters came up to me and my eldest sister, Aymen, who had a concerned look on her face said in a shaking voice, “Mariam, Ami and Abu have gone back home without us. We can’t see them, nor can we see our car anywhere.”

I don’t know whether it was her superb acting or what, but I believed her instantly and my heartbeat seemed to stop.

“What should we do?” I cried. “We have no mobile phone to call them or any money to take a taxi home.”

“Let’s borrow someone’s mobile and call them,” suggested Aymen with no hint of naughtiness in her voice.

With my eyes sparkling with tears, I ran to the first man to come in my sight and requested him for a mobile phone after quickly telling him the situation. He gave it to me without any questions. I knew my father’s mobile number by heart so I called him.

And then I heard the ringtone of none other than my father’s mobile phone coming from a little distance away. I turned and, to my great surprise, I saw my parents sitting on a bench in deep conversation. Before my father could attend the call, I cancelled it and returned the mobile phone to the puzzled man with an apology.

Let me tell you that I have quite a temper. This will be enough for you to guess what happened next!

But this doesn’t mean that I don’t trick my sisters. Hiding behind doors or curtains in their rooms, then suddenly jumping out and shouting “Whoa” when one of them comes inside and making them cry out in fright is one of my favourite pranks.

However, the trick worked best for me but not for my sister Bakhtawar was when I fooled her into eating a raw egg. I still go into a fit of giggles when I recall that memory. Actually, my mother was baking a cake that day and she instructed me to beat two eggs together with some sugar. By mistake, I broke three eggs into the bowl. My mother was annoyed and as I was listening to her scolding me, a brilliant idea came into my mind.

After my mother returned to the baking, I secretly took the extra egg and ran to Bakhtawar who was in her room, reading a novel.

“Bakhtawar!” I said in a voice filled with fake excitement. “The cake is ready. It is delicious. I have got a piece for you. Just close your eyes and open your mouth, I’ll put the piece in your mouth and you can taste it.”

Bakhtawar quickly obeyed and I put the whole spoon of raw egg in her mouth.

The look on Bakhtawar’s face and the funny noise that came out of her throat made my tummy hurt with laughter. Since that day, Bakhtawar doesn’t trust me much.

Well, we continued to tease each other, quarrel and gossip away just like best friends do, until we got separated.

Bakhtawar got admission in King Edward Medical University and she went off to Lahore to become a doctor. Aymen got a job in the State Bank of Pakistan and she travelled to Karachi to work as an assistant director there. And I remained back home in Islamabad, still a school girl.

When my sisters went away, I was quite happy in the beginning for I thought there would be no more fights and pranks, and I would be the queen in my house. But everything turned out to be the opposite of what I thought it would be.

My life became boring and dull. There was no one with whom I could take walks on the roof of our house at night and share my secrets and problems. There was no one with whom I could roll on the bed, laughing at silly jokes. There was no one to pounce on me to tickle me suddenly while I was absorbed in studying. I even missed all our fights.

Of course, I went to the park daily, watched movies at home, but it was not as enjoyable as it used to be with my sisters beside me. When I talk to them on the phone now, it is not the same even when we are laughing because I cannot see their pretty faces break into delightful laughter. And yes, the main problem with phone calls is that the three of us can’t talk together. It has to be just two at a time.

The first time we got together for five days after a gap of a couple of months, believe me, those were the most precious moments of my life filled with fun and laughter. I recorded them in my diary and I read them afterwards when my sisters are away and I am missing them.

I feel that it is not with just us three sisters, but with all the brothers and sisters in the world, love is the most powerful thing they have. This love has such strength that nothing can break it. This love never weakens, but gets stronger day by day.

Published in Dawn, Young World, November 2nd, 2019

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