The Café Across the Street

I stood in the Balcony and watched my sister Pallavi, happily clasp hands of relatives of relatives and talk to them as if they were her sincere companions for the last 20 years . She had met them for once or twice before, but today was her engagement day and she’s the star. Temporarily...

There was so much giggling and noise it was a surprise the neighbours didn’t complain yet.

I managed to sneak into a corner next to the items brought for the ceremony and took out my journal.

It has kept me companion for a long time now. I write down all the incidents in my life, however ordinary and commonplace. It is my way of keeping my feet on the ground, a touch with what the adults call “reality” .

At the tender age of sixteen, Pallavi decided that she wanted to become a writer. She was driven partly by her fantasy of being a writer and attending fan meetings and partly by the joy it gives.

She did her Bachelors in Literature and would fervently post her writings on online forums. I assumed she would go on with it for sometime till she found her way.

As you all know, that didn’t happen.

I walked back into the room and tried to make a show of decorating her hair. Like I expected I did more damage than good. The crowd around her waned slowly at the news of the arrival of the groom.

I managed to find sometime alone with her.

“You happy?” I prompted.

“Of course Indira. We all know I was going to get married after my degree.”

“Yeah sure.”

“But what about your plans , setup a studio in five years, work on your book while working full time. And all the other things you sold to me.”

She sighed. She had caught on to my disappointment.

Was I disappointed with my sister? Yes. For the past few days I was denying it but now I’m sure that’s the feeling. I was disappointed. I knew it was difficult to execute all our plans but I thought she would give it a try at least, to account for something interesting in our lives.

But she just followed the book. Nothing outside the box, to hell with the box. She didn’t even venture outside the square.

“This is normal Indira.”

“No it isn’t”

“Indira, I understand your feelings. But this is how life works. Accept it or not. This is what everyone does, and you cannot accuse me for doing something that everyone accepts. ”

The last line tore right through my defences.

And that is when I decided that I will ask the world for an answer. If I didn’t know somebody must know right? What to do next or how to handle it. If nobody knew, don’t you think we’re all in a collective problem together?