The Zeroth Law

CHAPTER 19: THE PROSPECT OF SEPARATION

I was covering every inch of mine and my younger sister's room while breaking the knuckles of my hand repeatedly to the point where they got sore, glancing every once in a while towards the door beyond which was the living room of our house and where my parents were entertaining their sad lives with the mediocre entertainment Indian television can provide. Not the one made for confrontations, as you all very well know, asking my parents for a favour was last on the list of conflicts I could manage to pull off. You would understand my hesitance if you are a middle child.

I have two sisters, one younger and one older than me, and after my younger sister was born my parents decided to stop, primarily because one more child would mean too much stress on home economy and my mother's uterus and more primarily because they realised they would never ever get a son; though to the day my parents don't agree that the reason they went for the second and third child was in want of a son who would 'continue the heritage of Rathore family'. I mean, who are they kidding? Everyone knows how we Indians are obsessed with the 'son' part; so it's obvious why my parents continued, it was either that or contraception was far too expensive in those days. Whatever, the Rathore couple was now stuck with three daughters, often referred to as burdens by my obnoxious grandmother who was still alive at the age of 86, and I was the least favourite according to me.

You see, the eldest child is novelty; the first time and all that shit so my elder sister got everything first rate. The last child is last child, youngest and most spoiled. It's their inherent right to get pampered by anyone and everyone, and the reason to suffice this is - they are young, even when they turn 40 and have their own kids, they are never supposed to own up to their mistakes. And me, well, I was a mere transition that was needed for my parents to get from the count of one to three, a bridging gap, or like all the letters after 'Q' in the word 'queue'. I am not saying I am ignored or abandoned, but I am just saying that my parents forgetting me in markets or fairs wasn't a rare occurrence when I was small.

You can see where this is going then. My elder sister never had to ask for anything, she got it without asking because she is prodigious, recipient of Dhirubhai Ambani scholarship, well known doctor of our town and very conveniently left the country with her husband to live her own life. My younger sister is queen bee of our town and her school, exuberant and talented dancer, has been performing on stage since she was four, and well, she is young so she has every right to demand for stuff. While I have never asked for anything, basically because I got everything my elder sister owned and secondly because I couldn't understand on what basis I should demand things. I had neither the talent like my sisters nor the luxury of a convenient title in family tree; and so when finally I came across a phase where I needed to ask something from my parents, I couldn't manage to do so without freaking out.

After two hours of knuckle cracking and nail biting, I decided it was more than enough and stepped out of the room to stand in front of my parents. My younger sister, Kiara, very inconveniently entered the room too with her face plastered with some homemade face pack she had concocted with expert opinion of internet doctors. Great, just the thing I needed, another hindrance in my gutsy attempt to talk with my parents.

"Mom, Dad", I said to call their attention and received a 'hmm' in reply with their eyes fixed on the TV. Well, good sign, at least they didn't pretend like they didn't hear me, "I am shifting out of my hostel room."

"Where will you be staying then?" Mom asked looking at me while Dad pointed the remote control at TV.

"I was thinking if you could allow me to stay as a paying guest or maybe in a rented flat", I murmured.

"What?" Mom said not because she was taken aback by my words but because she hadn't heard me over the TV. I took a deep breath and repeated myself clearly. Three pair of eyes, one of which was heavily loaded with white paste, looked at me with astonishment. That was the highest amount of attention I had received in my house till the date.