Rakri

Rakri

August 15. Seventeen almost eighteen in two weeks, I am the oldest with a younger brother and sister. I have been living in Canada all my life. My parents moved to Canada from India before they got married because they wanted to give their children a better life and provide us with all the opportunities Canada has to provide. Especially education. Neither of my parents is highly educated. My dad dropped out of school when he came to Canada at the age of 13, now he works long hours as a taxi driver at the airport, only home every other day. My mom completed high school in India. After that she moved to Canada to get married to my dad at the age of 18 and had me when she was 19. She now works every morning-7:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m.-at a factory that makes car parts for a car company called GM.

Today is a special day. It is Rakri. Rakri is a Sikh celebration of a sister’s love and respect for her brothers, and male cousins. I gather the red and gold coloured strings my mom purchased for my sister and me to tie on our brother and cousins. The strings are referred to, as rakri’s in Punjabi. We celebrate Rakri once a year, every August. There is no set day that Rakri falls on. No Sikh traditions have a set day, only set months. They usually depend on the moon. Rakri is whenever there is a full moon during the month of August.

I take two rakri’s out of the white plastic bag on the kitchen table in my house. Ring. I prepare all the things we needed. I thought my sister would pick up the telephone. Ring. I glance up at the leaf shaped wooden clock, from Niagara Falls, that hung on the wall. It read 11:26 a.m.

“Get the phone.” Says my sister Sonia. She strolls into the kitchen past the black telephone on her left. She glances at the telephone number that flash on the telephone. “It’s mom.” Her long, wet, black hair curled on top of her head. She wore a black sleeveless Indian suit. Suit is what we refer to an outfit an Indian woman wears. My sister’s top is long and fitted. It reaches midway between her knees and ankles, with slits on both sides that end halfway between her knees and waist. The pants to her suit, that matches the top, are also black. The bottoms squeeze tightly to her legs, under the top. She held a blank and gold coloured long scarf, which matched her suit, in her right hand.

Ring. Ring.

“Why don’t you get it yourself? Your so lazy.” I shot back.

“Just get it. I’m about to blow dry my hair.” She ran her fingers through her hair to separate the curls.

Ring. Ring.

“Hello?”

“How come it took you so long to answer the phone?” My moms voice furious on the other end.

“I was getting ready to go to Sharon’s house. And I thought Sonia was going to get it.”

“Your such a liar!” My sister screams.

“Have you tied your brothers rakri yet? Is he even awake?” Women chatter behind my mom, making it hard for me to hear my mom’s voice.

“He’s in the shower right now.”

“When he gets out then tie his rakri before you go to your cousins house. There are three boxes of myteye (Indian sweets) in the refrigerator. I gave one of the boxes, this morning, to you uncle because he came to get his rakri tied before he went to work. The other two boxes in the white bags are for my other brothers, so take them when you go to tie your cousin’s rakri’s. The box on top of the milk bags is ours so don’t give that one away. Let your brother choose what myteye he wants to eat.”

“Ok. I know. You told me yesterday.” I roll my eyes.

“Ok my break is over but remember to tie the rakri before you leave. And go tell Kulwant to hurry up. Bye.”

“Bye.” I hung up the black phone.

“Sonia tell Kulwant to hurry up.” I scream over the noise of the hair dryer, upstairs.

I yank the cream Kenmore refrigerator door open and grab the shiny silver box of myteye. I swung my hip to shut the refrigerator door. I lift the lid off the box, place the box on the table and grab a silver plate from the cupboard. I place two rakri’s on the plate and wrap an orange scarf around my neck. I needed the scarf for later to cover my head when I tie my brother’s rakri. Covering our heads stands for respect.

My brother, Kulwant, strolled into the kitchen. He wore black Nike shorts that almost reach his ankles. It is hard to tell if they are long shorts or short pants. He wore an oversized grey Adidas t-shirt.

“Tell Sonia to hurry up,” I say and stamp my feet on the ground. I stroll over to the kitchen table.

“She’s coming.” Answers my brother. He never wakes up on time. He’s the slowest person I know. It takes him an hour to brush his teeth and shower and he’s worse than a girl. He’s like our youngest sister. I guess growing up with two sisters he developed a feminine side.

My sister took forever getting ready. She is little miss perfect. It’s crucial for her hair and make-up to be perfect before she departs the house. Whenever we’re running late she is the last one out of the house. My sister calmly entered the kitchen. I sit and wait on the soft burgundy kitchen chair. I wait for her, to tie the rakri on Kulwant and then leave. I rest my elbow on the kitchen table, I cleaned while I waited, and lean my chin on the palms of my hands. My brother sat on the other end of the table and tapped his fingers on the table.

“It’s about time.” I glared at her.

She squints her eyes and, turns her head away from me, and stares at Kulwant. “Ok are you ready.” Her eyes widen and her eyebrows lift.

“You’re getting a toonie from me. You took too long to get ready.” My brother mocked Sonia.

“Ok shut up you two. We have to go. Come here Kulwant.” My brother sat on the chair. As I stood up I covered my head with the orange scarf that drape around my neck. My sister covered her head with the kitchen towel because she was too lazy to grab her scarf that she forgot upstairs. My brother handed me his right arm because that is the arm we are suppose to tie it on. I don’t know why it has to be the right arm, but we do as we are told. I selected one of the rakri’s off the silver plate and tied it around my brother’s wrist. My sister did the same. My brother pointed to the white myteye signalling that he wanted to eat that one. I raised the myteye up to his mouth and he took a bite. I handed the rest of it to my sister-the wet sugar remained on my thumb and index finder-who fed him the rest. We wiped our hands with the Subway napkins lying on the table from last night. My brother handed a new pink fifty-dollar bill to each of us.

“Thanks.” We say at the same time with a grin.

“Yeah, that’s not fair. Why do girls always get money?”

“Stop complaining. Dad gave you the money anyways. It’s not like it came out of your pocket. And girls are better than guys.” My sister smirked.

“Ok, stop it now. We have to go. Sonia grab the two boxes of myteye from the refrigerator. I’m going to put all this stuff away. I’ll grab the rakri’s. And Kulwant make sure you have the money to give to Sharon and Pavan when they tie your rakri.”