A friend of mine (virtually the only one who reads this blog) has a sister. Who he loves very much, and is completely mollified of growing up. Cool, see older brothers. Obsess over the length of her shorts? Check. They all do. Well I ran into this friend’s sister in the city today. I just got home tell him I saw her, but apparently she wasn’t supposed to be in the city. Major boo-boo Karen, Ms. Colman would not be pleased. And now he has to tell her that he knew she was in the city, because maintenance of the ‘mystery’ of goingabouts and ignorance the reports of their sources are miles apart, no? 'I know where you are, all the time. my agents are everywhere, so watch yourself' is the joking overtone. So how do we know where exactly to draw the line? With our siblings that is. And I know what you’re thinking, shut it you sicko. But then you want to know what they were doing, your natural curiosity is egged on by an almost protective instinct.

Another example. I saw a friend (whom I may name Princess Kitana.. apologies, it’s a nice anonymous name ==”) of mine’s sibling, who I may not divulge, at a nondescript place of everyday life a while ago. I smiled and said hi, but they gave me such a : look that I thought, “Really? Is that how it is? Well my sibling talks to Kitty!”.
Later that evening, I got a text message asking me not to tell Princess Kitana that I saw their sibling smoking at the station, and that they were totally freaked out.
What do I to that? I complied, but it was like,
‘Do I tell? Aren’t I obligated? But I promised..’
Now the thing is, even better, sibling let the cat out of the bag even though I had no idea! Yeah, I didn’t realise that they were smoking, and I also fully know that Princess Kitana would freak out. I do intelligence better than Agent Smith!

Siblings and Privacy. Ah. The two don’t go together, at all. Sometime we pry into their lives. I confess. Guilty As Charged. Nothing got past this sister. Well not for long anyway. Accidental discoveries tend to become regular, yet on a completely random fixture. Not talking porn stashes. Now that shit is just disgusting. More of the escapades (read, escapades, not sexcapades) that one would get in major shit for. I shut the hell up, because I would’ve been smashed if I knew. Or maybe I didn’t want him to have an idea. Now he knows I did, but what if I had stayed up to hear the stairs creak in the middle of the night? In my house, the stuff one knew that could use is not to be termed blackmail, but leverage. Makes sense enough.

When boys insult boys, there is only one step further than ‘Yo Momma’. Not only because such wit has become stock-standard, but because the other happens to be ‘Your Sister’. It’s funny because everyone does it of course. Here’s a titbit. Indeed, I have been ‘Your Sister’-ed. If you know me, I don’t have a sister. I’ve become a yoursisteree. Not that my brother would ever tell me, but on this fairly recent occasion, he may or may not have been particularly inebriated among the wonderful friends he keeps. Something or the other, and a tasteless cutting jibe were made where I was, for want of a better word, the yoursisteree. But it certainly was not just a joke. No sir-ee. Therefore, it was plausible that my brother went ape shit, (involving him to cut his friend’s face just above the eye with his beer bottle), and their other usually irresponsible friend had to turn the garden hose on them. Charming.
Thing is, when I heard this or whenever I remember this, I can’t possibly love my brother more. Another worldly sibling no-no: Their best friends. It’s true, I believe that I deserved whatever what was said. Sadly, it deserves no elaboration.

Siblings, Sisters, Brothers. We’re all fiercely protective, and can never say. We try to hide everything, but will never succeed. Ever.