Reviving strained bonds

Reviving strained bonds

Akanksha was still looking at the mural outside her brother Rakshesh’s house when he opened the door in response to her ringing the bell. “This is nice work. The vibrant colours look cool. I read cheer and hope, bliss and peace in this painting. Your taste has improved over the years, my little brother”, she remarked.

Akanksha was 45, the proud mother to an engineering aspirant doubling as a part time fitness consultant and had matured over the years, choosing to value bonds till they lasted.

Rakshesh, the 37 year young remained a little less temperamental than before but he came across as a difficult person, nonetheless.

Rakshesh had been difficult with Akanksha for no fault of hers since tragedy struck the former. He didn’t show up at her important functions, often overreacted to her harmless remarks, made her feel guilty for her ‘lavish indulgences’, ignored her requests to ‘take parents out’ for pleasant outstation trips.

Rakshesh had his own philosophy in life and by nature, didn’t believe in hurting anyone. But in making his angst his sole identity, he had slowly turned into a ‘background character’ one who only close well-wishers were interested in. An introvert since childhood, he now withdrew even further, only gifting special appearances at select functions. He behaved as if he had all the rights to taunt everyone while retaining the rights to be offended at the drop of a hat.

One by one, Rakshesh’s friends gave up. Some felt he was way too negative. Some felt he was too self-centered. His best friend still kept in touch for he knew that within his friend was a gem, that was broken and needed some polishing.

Shelves over shelves of positive thinking books had done little to relieve him and people around him of his angst.

As they saw each other, both had different expressions on their faces. Akanksha, the elder, protective, well-wishing sister was happy to entertain Rakshesh’s request for a dinner while Rakshesh still had the attention-seeking anxiety writ all over his face.

“Welcome, dear sister- it has been a long-impending dinner. It is a blessed moment when I get to host dinner for you,” said Rakshesh eagerly.

“Rakshesh, you have always been kind despite the setbacks you went through. You remain an enigma as you are strong in the toughest situations while small, frivolous matters can bring out the volatility in you. All said and done, I feel great to have a brother like you. This life has been slightly unfair to you but you emerged a victor, no doubt.”

“Thank you Akanksha. First things first-will you prefer to have tea now? Or later? We can relive the blissful moments we shared as siblings and also assess how our relationship withstood some really trying times”, Rakshesh replied, his face struggling to maintain an extended smile. 

Rakshesh started making tea for his dear sister who in several crises, had helped him gather courage and strength-be it the time when Rakshesh, as a student struggled with his drawing exam or had sleepless nights before the elocution competition or during the most important SSC examinations when every mark was worth a lot more.

She saw the paintings her brother had done. A small boy with eyes aiming at the sky as if declaring, I will be with the clouds soon- an abstract work of a battered middle-aged man, depicted as if in prison of his own thoughts, a giant brush swashing the whole globe with the text ‘Hypocrisy Nation’ while an artist flashes a sarcastic smile. The satire was difficult to miss.

While seeing Rakshesh preparing tea, Akanksha was taken back to the good old days of childhood-when Rakshesh was the little brother whom Akanksha mentored, bullied, and told stories of hope and inspiration, of faith and excellence.

A lot of Rakshesh’s aspirations drew from Akanksha’s exemplary achievements. Like Akanksha wanted to be a doctor, Rakshesh wanted to be a successful engineer. Rakshesh managed to score well but Akanksha’s achievements were in a different league altogether. There was always a sense of being overshadowed by her.

Rakshesh could not complete his engineering due to an accident that kept him in hospital for a few months. He had to take a drop and life changed in that one year.

From a pleasant personality, he turned into a brooding youth, a full-time cynic with a critical view of everything and everyone. Except Leslie Fernandes- his role model and renowned artist.

“Sister, tea is ready-the way you want it. Strong, less sugar and with the aroma of mint”, Rakshesh came with a tray in his hand that had a mug full of tea and some biscuits.

Rakshesh and Akanksha sat across each other. They were as different as chalk and cheese. One, lively and talkative- the other, brooding and reserved. One- looking forward to each new day, the other looking at every day as a new uphill challenge. One-happy enjoying life-the other happy decoding and analysing it. One, full of life, the other, full of angst.

Tears ran down Akanksha’s eyes. She hated to see her talented brother struggle in life. Putting her hand on his and rubbing it with affection, she said “How I wish life would have been kinder to you.”

Wiping the tears flowing down her eyes, Rakshesh said, “Sister, every calamity has made me stronger. Right now, the best thing we can do is have tea.”

They clanked their mugs as if cheering the good times they shared.

“Did that girl, an avid art enthusiast Swati Singhania get back, Rakshesh?” Akanksha asked anxiously.

“No, while she still holds me in high regard, she is practical to choose a well-settled professional, not a whimsical prodigy”, Rakshesh replied.

And your exhibitions? Are they doing well?

Oh yes. The gallery owners are a little less rude, the critics slightly more kind. ‘Withering Flora’ did well. ‘Smiles galore’- your kind of lively, positive them failed to strike a chord. ‘Brutally Yours’ and ‘Chaos the world is’ again did connect well. As you see, I am better at negative themes.

Things are a lot better than before. I am noticed. Even some well-established names in the world of art do remark that my strokes exhibit a deep understanding of features. I am a better and more known portrait artist now.”

Akanksha’s face lit up with joy on knowing the few things that were going right in Rakshesh’s life.

“Rakshesh, you were sensitive, sensible, and positive towards everything in life. Remember how you used to respond to criticism with a humble smile and show forgiveness? How you used to highlight the importance of contentment? You have let one accident, one grave accident, nonetheless change your basic personality.”

“Sister, I am aware. I know what you mean. Sometimes, I myself experience disgust when I think of my sudden outbursts, sarcastic banter and downright rude responses to genuine wellwishers.”

“So, life is not over yet. Everything is not over yet. Change and see how positive outlook can help you enhance your life in so many ways.”

“Sister, I am not done venting out my angst yet. Let me not let it go waste.You remember, how as a child I was fond of this toy kite and would love to see it touch the sky (our ceiling)?"

“Yes, I do. I also know how difficult it must have been for you to see friends and peers less intelligent and capable than you at one point, steer ahead of you” pacified Akanksha

“Art helped me sober a bit. And yet, there is this wild angry beast within me, unleashing its anger with rapid, brutal strokes on the canvas”, admitted Rakshesh.

An adamant elder sister took charge- “Rakshesh, your lines on canvas depict art. I let lines tell stories. I am a storyteller. Something tells me, this story needs a twist and a turn, a happy, positive turning point.”

Rakshesh retorted, “Aka, do you know the property of black colour? It erases the effects of all other colours on paper. It dominates the canvas it is put on.”

Not one to back out and also an amateur artist familiar with the smell and effect of colurs, Akanksha said, “Yes, but I also know that with some effort, white colour can help turn it grey and that is something you are aware too.”

An impatient Rakshesh asked, “Let’s stop the cryptic conversation. What are you hinting at?”

“My little brother, get wise. You like that girl, Parivini Parakh. Go, reassure her. Address her insecurities.”

“Sister, I do not believe in sacrificing my self-respect. She has put a question mark on a hard-working artist’s earnest efforts.”

“Brother, she will have to leave everything and settle down with you. Ever wondered how lonely a black dot would feel on a white canvas? She needs a comforting explanation. Go, show her a roadmap, convince her that you would work hard to fulfil your responsibilities. Your love, she is convinced of. Go, claim your love.”

Rakshesh called Swati on her cell phone. “Swati, I want you to reconsider your decision. I am here to address all your insecurities.”

The conversation went on for over an hour and through it, Akanksha could sense that things were shaping up well.

“Thank you dear sister, she has agreed to enjoy the roller-coaster ride of life with me.”

My angst accepts defeat once more. Your positive thoughts win once more.

“The canvas of life may have dark colours

But let it shine through bright hues

Struggles are common for all

We all have to pay our karmic dues”, signed off a smiling Akanksha.

The sibilings had dinner and the strained bonds were revived.

04.57 (23) p.m.

Saurabh Niranjan Turakhia

Monday

21 December 2015