Sibling Squabbles

I remember, from about five or six years ago, an argument between two brothers. It was right in the middle of the game of football we were playing.

Older had graduated from high school and enrolled himself in an engineering college someplace north. Younger, born six years later, was still in the sixth grade.

I don't remember what the fight was about, and I certainly don't remember how it started, but I do remember Younger maliciously pointing out that Older 'had not gotten into IIT'. Older was exceptional in his studies, and he'd been aiming for IIT, but he couldn't get through.

Yet, when I met him today, he had passed out from his four-year BTech course and is joining ONGC in November. I inquired about Younger. Very busy, he replied with a hint of pride. I smiled. Determined to make it into IIT, eh?

Hopefully, he emphasized.

Well, chances are more that he won't remember that his brother had insulted him six years ago (My memory is like a sieve; EJ agrees), nevertheless, I've got to admire that there wasn't an iota of resentment at the fact that he didn't get through, and his brother still stood a chance.

Well, that's how siblings are programmed, I suppose. Because no matter how bad the fights are, no matter how many vows of not speaking to him/her, siblings always bounce back. Always.

It's a masochistic relationship, I tell you.

I've had my fair share of fights, too, physical as well as verbal. I was shoved into a bookcase once in a vicious childhood fight. I immediately burst into tears, but despite my sullenness, we had to unite forces to tape the broken glass of the bookcase. Mom discovered it anyway, since we geniuses used tape that was blue in color. I was only happy to be the tattle-tale after a confrontation.

I've hit back, too. I once threw a pair of heavy, metal scissors at my sister's feet that resulted in a puncture in her big toe. She retaliated after a few years by slashing my thigh with a blade.

The physical fights don't hurt as much as the verbal ones do. She, being the older and better at rebuttals than I am, almost always wins. Our fights sometimes end up calling each other names, and not tame ones either. Squabbles rise over the pettiest things.

Her: Feed Sirius.
Me: Do it yourself.
Her: I'm telling you to do it.
Me: Do it yourself. I'm tired/sleepy.
Her: And I'm not, you selfish thing? (only she doesn't say THING. And so it starts)

The fights sometimes escalate pretty bad, and I have to find solace by mentally placing her in all the Saw traps. I vow never to speak to her again, and even manage it for a few days (at most), only speaking when required.

But unfortunately, it's worse than an abusive relationship. Masochistic Me befriends her again.