Story so far:Siblings Nikita and Nikhil don’t get along. When they move to a larger house with a room each, they promise to give up to share when they have a guest.
(Narrated by Nikhil)
For ten days, Nikita and I were prisoners in our own house. Because of the uncle who wouldn’t share.
Baba’s cousin, Jay Uncle, was our first guest in the new house. My parents were thrilled because, of course, they didn’t have to give up their room!
It was the first time Nikita and I had had a room each. We were enjoying our freedom and space. But we had promised to share a room if we had a guest.
“Let me share my room with Uncle,” I begged.
“Jay can’t share,” Amma said, shocked.
So, Nikita and I were in one room again. My sister and I simply don’t get along. We argue all the time. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad now? But I had forgotten many things about Nikita. Like how loudly she could screech. “This room is a pig sty!” Nikita said. Where, I asked, had she seen either a pig or a sty? Nikita wasn’t amused and Amma only said, “Clean up, Nikhil!”
Finding things
The second bed in my room was my storage space, which I now had to clear. If Nikita would bend and twist a little, she could have easily used it. But, no, she had to have an empty bed.
I cheered up when I found two comics, a t-shirt, my school belt, and bits of Lego, as I cleaned. Nikita wanted me to clean my bed and cupboard too! She complained about everything; even my breathing, which she said was as loud as a steam engine!
Once Jay Uncle came, there was nowhere to escape because the grown-ups used the living room, the kitchen was out of bounds, and the garden too hot. We stayed in my room, hissing furiously at each other. It sounded like a conference of snakes!
But there’s only so much hissing and name calling you can do. When that stopped, there was silence. Who broke it? Me? Or Nikita? It didn’t matter, because we actually talked. I told Nikita a story and she told me one, a ghost story with scary sounds. I lay wake that night, heart thumping. I was certain there was something under the bed; a creature with many teeth and a string of silvery drool. I was terrified.
Then I looked across the room to where Nikita lay, a peaceful dark shape. I heard the soft hiss of her breath. It told me that I wasn’t alone, it assured me I would sleep and wake to another day.
It was a sound that made me thankful for uncles who wouldn’t share and sisters who could.
(To be continued)
