The rakhi was red, Manu’s favourite colour, and in the middle was a little football, a perfect, shining white. It was an absolutely beautiful rakhi. And yet, Manu didn’t look happy.
“Don’t you like it?” Mamma asked anxiously. The shopkeeper had told her this was the latest fashion in rakhis, and she had thought it perfect for Manu, who had recently begun playing football.
“I do.” Manu said.
“Then, what’s the matter?” Mamma asked.
“It’s just that all my friends have rakhis that their sisters make for them.” Manu said. “I will be the only one with a rakhi that wasn’t made by my sister.”
“You too will have a rakhi made by your sister,” Mamma promised.
“But when?” demanded Manu.
“Varsha needs to grow up a little,” Mamma said. “Meanwhile, enjoy your football rakhi Your friends are sure to love it.”
She went away to get the thali ready for the ritual. Manu felt a tug on his shorts and looked down to see his sister. Varsha had crawled up to him and was sitting by his feet, busily chewing a ball. The ball looked battered and long threads of drool dangled from Varsha’s chin.
“Chee, Varsha,” Manu said. “Why did you have to chew that ball?”
Wishful thinking
Varsha offered him the ball, grinning toothlessly. Manu sighed, trying to feel angry with his sister. But it was difficult to frown when Varsha was smiling so sweetly at him, and he gave up. Instead, he lugged her away so he could wash her and get her ready. Mamma was right, he thought, Varsha would soon grow up and then he could have special handmade rakhis like all his friends.
“You both look so nice,” Mamma beamed a little later. Varsha had been cleaned and dressed in a pretty new dress. Manu had on a crisp white kurta and felt grown up. “Sit here, Manu,” Mamma said, when the doorbell rang.
She set the plate with the lamp and the rakhi aside and went to see who it was. ‘Manu,’ Mamma called and Manu ran to see what she wanted. It was Sameer, wanting to know when Manu would join the football match.
“Ten minutes,” Manu promised. “And I’ll have something awesome to show you then.”
“Let’s hurry,” Manu said. They hurried back to find the plate where Mamma had left it. “But where’s my rakhi ?”Manu wailed.
“It’s here,” Mamma said. It was in Varsha’s hand.
“What have you done to my rakhi ?” Manu shouted.
“Looks like Varsha has made you a rakhi ,” Mamma laughed. The shiny white football on the rakhi had lovely red streaks on it.
“How did she do that?” Manu demanded.
“She chewed the rakhi ,” Mamma explained. “And the red colour from the threads got on to the football!”
“Do you mind?” she asked anxiously. “I can get another rakhi for you if you...”
“Mind?” Manu yelled. “I love the rakhi my sister made me!”
So did all his friends.
