Alone No More – by Ishithaa {Guest Post}

“Twins have a special bond. They feel safer with each other than with their peers.” — Jeanne Phillips

I have this memory – my parents and other relatives are sitting in our ancestral home, and an astrologer is examining our horoscopes. He checks my mother’s and tells she’ll be having another baby. I jump up, run to her and ask for a sister.

That part of the horoscope never came true. Thankfully, my cousin sister and I grew up as siblings, so that void was never felt.

Over the years, there have been friends who have become closer, knowing me as much as a sibling might. One such wonderful friend graces my blog for a second time today with a story, agreeing to guest post today on the occasion of my blog’s 8th birthday.

We share that special bond like twins, and have this eerie intuition to sense when the other is feeling off. We have many things in common, including this love for words, for stories that are almost inspired by experience. No matter who reads or doesn’t read our stories, we read each other. And we tease each other like siblings too. To have such a friend is a blessing, and she is a blessing in my life. Welcoming one of my best friends, Ishithaa, and giving the blog stage to her wonderful story.

Alone No More

~ by Ishithaa ~


There were times, when his little heart yearned to have a sister. One who would come and watch him play, cheer him and call his name out loud from the audience and be pleased at the smallest of his achievements. It seemed like everyone had a sister or a sibling except for him. But he never wanted a brother; all he wanted was a sister, more like a twin sister. On this account, his parents too could not help him even though he did go up to his mom to tell her that he wanted a twin sister. His mom had laughed, the crow’s feet near her eyes more pronounced than the previous day, but her eyes twinkled and shone of the kindness she carried in her heart.

He loved when his mother smiled at him like that. It meant that she was immensely happy with him and that he was her favorite person in the whole wide world. That was when the thought struck him. If he had a twin, he would have to share his mother with another kid. Maybe then she would not smile at him the same way she does now. Little Sekhar decided that his mother meant more to him than a twin who did not exist and prayed hard to God, clutching his tiny fingers so hard that the little nails left imprints on his palm, asking Him not to give him a twin. That night, he insisted that his mother sing him to sleep.

As he was walking to his school the next day, he heard a lot of commotion. Unable to curtail his curiosity, he went closer to the group and saw that there was a girl, almost his age – in the middle of all the commotion. From the looks of it, she was the reason behind this crowd. With messy hair and untied shoe laces, she looked as if she was attacked; instead Sekhar was shocked to see that she was the attacker. She hit a boy left and right and when the boy started whimpering, she let him go. The kid quietly picked up his bag, shot the girl a furious look and limped towards his class. The crowd began to disperse, but Sekhar had not budged. He looked at her as she went about adjusting her dress and hair, picking up the books that were strewn on the path and arranging them in her bag, the buckle of which was broken now. Sekhar offered the water bottle he had in his bag and bent down to pick her Class Monitor tag and slyly noticed that her name was Priya.

“Priya, why did you fight with him?”

“He called me moti.”

Big fat drops of tears rolled down her face as she said this.

Little Sekhar was moved beyond words, for he knew what it meant to be taunted for his size. He helped straighten her up and walked her till her class. She was in VI B whereas he was in VI C.

That day when he was about to walk back, he waited till Priya came and they went home together. Her mother was waiting eagerly for Priya and came out to open the gate as soon as she saw both of them ambling along. She paused for a moment and invited Sekhar in, made him sit at the dining table and served hot steaming pazhampori on two plates. He loved this south indian dish and was extremely pleased to be served these by his new friend’s mother. He quickly finished what he was having and thanked ‘aunty’ profusely.

He had tasted one of these when his friend brought it to class one day and he’d been asking his mother to make them one day, but he had been extremely unsuccessful in making his mother understand what he was talking about.

On his way out, he mumbled something into Priya’s ears which piqued her mother’s curiosity.

Priya laughed and asked him to wait.

“Amma, avan oru pazhampori koduthu vidaamo?”

Priya’s mother smiled at him when she gave him the tiffin box containing the banana fritters. He remembered his mother’s gentle smile and thought he wouldn’t mind sharing her with someone as sweet as his new friend.

moti : fat; pazhampori : banana fritters;
“Amma, avan oru pazhampori koduthu vidaamo?” – “Mother, can you please give him one of these to carry home?”

(4th November 2014).

Poetry & writing are to me, a breath of fresh air in a life that is sometimes covered by the smoke of sorrow or self doubt. They also become the sweets I share to celebrate when life offers me a reason to. But most of all, they are to me, my life. For each word I write is a piece of my heart, a thought that just had to find its way into the world.

10 thoughts on “Alone No More – by Ishithaa {Guest Post}”

  1. I teared up reading the intro 😛 Sheeeeeeshh!!! 😀

    I love your blog twinny and the stories and poems you write. I hope all your bloggy and literary dreams come true soon. Wishing my fav blog a very happy birthday 🙂

    PS: Thank you for having me over here, that too on such a special occasion.
    (Ishithaa recently posted… Loved and Lost)My Profile

    • Well, you wanted a nice intro, you told me last time 😛 And didn’t have to think to write it anyways!! 😀

      Glad you love IRWR and my writings 🙂 Happy to read this lovely story about friendship, on my blog’s birthday.
      (Vinay Leo R. recently posted… Like always …)My Profile

  2. Good wishes on your Blog’s birthday!!! A very well written cute little story on innocent friendship by somebody short of a sibling on your Blog’s eighth birthday is treat indeed. May you achieve the heights you aspire.

  3. Happy Birthday to you, IRWR, one of my most favorite blogs where surprisingly I read my own feelings. 😀
    Many many congratulations to you my Dearest Dearo for completing “Amazing 8 years” of writing. You’re born to write and believe me you write magic. I love reading,even the simplest of things you write with such a beauty and depth. I admire your writings, I admire you as a friend who’s always there by my side 🙂
    Reading you is always a great pleasure. Keep rhyming and writing for they inspire me and many others. My best wishes to you and your poetic pen.
    Such a lovely write up by Ishi. Simple, sweet and full of innocence. 🙂
    (Sims recently posted… World’s Worth)My Profile

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