I had a very happy childhood in a sleepy little village, Kalady, in Central Kerala.

With numerous cousins to play with, surrounded by verdant greens, a canopy of emerald trees, there was plenty of outdoor activities to chose from. We kids had a blast, more so during the summer vacations.

Summer vacations also meant excitement in the form of visits by my parents, younger sister and brother, who lived in the Andaman Islands. I was secretly a wee bit jealous of my sister and brother who could speak fluent Hindi and English, I felt envious when my sister rattled off in chaste Hindi with my brother.

In my attempt to impress them, I would take extra care with my appearance. My usual street urchin looks were discarded for a more sleek look. My straight hair was plastered over my scalp with a rather liberal amount of perfumed hair oil, my eyes lined by fresh, homemade kaajal, my face whitened by Cuticura talcum powder, the color contrasting starkly with my unmade up neck. Those days, I was the proud owner of a pair of sandstone ear drops, which swished and swayed as I walked, glittering in the sun light.

My younger sister, who tops the popularity charts among us these days, was a rather quiet and docile child. At the age of six, her ears were not pierced and she seemed singularly fascinated by my earrings.

One day, while my parents, elder sister and grandmother were enjoying their afternoon siesta, I was left alone with my unwary sibling, an ingenious idea flashed through my mind and I asked her whether she would like her ears pierced. Any misgivings that she must have had were overridden by her intense desire to possess shiny earrings like mine. She agreed readily and I was only too happy to oblige.

With a sudden sense of importance, I scouted around the surrounding bushes(Which I new like the back of my hand) for the appropriate surgical implement. I chanced upon the thorns of a henna shrub which I thought would do fine. I also managed to get a pen to mark the right spot on the earlobe. In my efforts to do a good deed, I did not want to leave a single stone unturned.

Grabbing my sisters ears in a none too gentle grip, without further ado, I set about poking the lobe, She being blessed with a high pain threshold bravely bore the agony. My surgical endeavors were thwarted time and again as one after the other, the thorns gave way .All that I had managed to achieve was a swollen earlobe, that had turned an alarming shade of red and purple. My poor sister looked at me, a film of unshed tears in her eyes, undoubtedly in severe pain. Oblivious to her agony, I continued with fresh vigor, bent upon succeeding.

I was jolted out of my mission by my mother, who ranted and raved at me for such irresponsible and idiotic action .Her ire soon turned to my hapless, innocent sister for allowing me to hurt her but I was at the receiving end of everyone’s angry tirade berating me , fearful of the possibility of sepsis.
My sister was rather brusquely ushered indoors, while I felt very hurt and bewildered. All that I had wanted to do was a good deed. My surgical paraphernalia lay scattered, mute testimony to my impulsive action. The best recourse open to me was to make myself scarce and sulk for the remainder of the day.
Needless to say, both of us went to bed that day, me nursing my bruised ego, my sister nursing her bruised and swollen ear, her dreams of wearing glittering earrings shattered.

Radhika, of course is Dr. Radhika now, she uses implements more sophisticated than Henna Thorns to treat her patients these days. The younger sister in question here is Chitra Parayath, who carries the trauma to this day. Incidentally, Chitra now has four piercings in each ear!

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