#belonging

I hated it there.I need youto understand that first.I hated the walls,the streets,the life I livedwhile constantly dreamingof somewhere else.I hated summersthat smelled like burning,the sun hanging redbehind a curtain of smoke,mountains disappearingas if the whole provincewere slowly being erased.I hated learningto look at the skyand wonderwhat was on fire now.I counted the dayslike prison…

The world hated her... Her own people feared her...

A beast the world was terrified from... together a bond stronger than blood was formed.

buy my book today... Shadows and Scales: The Tale of Falliess Gloridum

Raksha Bandhan has always felt a little different when you're only two sisters.As children, we didn't really understand it.We just knew that every year, while other girls had a brother whose wrist was already waiting for their rakhi, we had to look around—for a cousin,for someone else's brother,for someone we could call bhai for a day.And we did.With all our heart.But growing up, we started noticing the things children aren't supposed to notice.The hesitation.The awkwardness.The little jealousies from sisters who felt that he was their brother first.And sometimes, even without anyone saying anything,

we'd wonder—

“Are we forcing this?”

“Do we actually belong here?”

Because the truth is, no matter how much we loved them, we could never completely claim them.We couldn't say, “He's my brother,” without that tiny voice inside us adding—“Well… technically, he's my cousin.”We couldn't fight with them freely.We couldn't be angry for too long.Because somewhere in the back of our minds, Raksha Bandhan was always coming.And suddenly a silly childhood fight wasn't just a fight anymore.

It became—“How will I go and tie him rakhi now?”

“Will it be awkward?”

“Will he still want me to come?”

And maybe that is something people don't understand about being the sister who has no biological brother.You become very careful with the people you love.Because you know you have no authority over them.No unquestionable place.No guarantee that they will choose you.And when you know that, you learn how easy it is to be left behind.You can love someone endlessly and still be scared that you don't have the right to ask them to stay.Maybe that's why Raksha Bandhan sometimes hurt more than it celebrated us.Everyone talked about the thread.About protection.About brothers and sisters.But nobody talked about the girl sitting quietly with a rakhi in her hand, wondering whether the person she wants to tie it to actually considers her a sister.Nobody talked about how badly we wanted just one person who would make it easy.

Someone who wouldn't make us wonder whether we were intruding.

Someone who wouldn't make us feel like we were borrowing a brother for a festival.

Someone who would simply say—“Of course you're coming.Why wouldn't you?”

Because maybe that's all we ever wanted.Not a brother to show off.Not someone to prove that we weren't alone.Just someone we could fight with without being afraid of losing him.Someone we could call at the stupidest hour.Someone whose wrist we could tie a rakhi on without wondering if we had earned the right.Someone we could claim—and who would claim us back.And maybe, somewhere along the way, we stopped wishing for a brother by blood.We started wishing for something much smaller.A place in someone's heart that didn't feel borrowed.A bond we didn't have to keep proving.A person we could love without the constant fear of being easy to leave.So this Raksha Bandhan, when I look at that rakhi,I don't think about the brother we never had.I think about two sisters who grew up learning to make peace with an empty place—and still somehow filled it with love.

I look at the stuff in my room and all I can think about is how little I care about it

My art means nothing to me in the end

My trinkets are memories of times where I was either just as miserable

Or I was delusional

Thinking that things were getting better

Some of these things hold memories

That I just don’t find any importance in

Prism prom

Talks with my mother

Art shows

Gifts I didn’t ask for

But in between all these things is something that you made

And I look at it with so much care

Its just a doodle, but you gave it to me

I have such a higher regard for you

And things of yours

And what you care about

And even things of mine

That I know you would like

My green pouch with white polka dots

My tiny figure of a potted strawberry plant

My pin of a post stamp, with “LOVE” spelled out in flowers

They all look more like you than me

And in a way I already see them as yours

And I am yours too

I think that's why I feel so much better in a space that is yours

I’m no longer a person in a room filled with their own hoard

But I’m now a part of a space belonging to someone I love

Sat nicely between everything else you love