My experiments with T.R.U.T.H. (The Ridiculous and Uniquely Tiresome Highness)

I am a self-confessed cinephile. For those of you who have no idea what that means, and for those of you who have already begun to associate it with terrible things, cast aside your preconceived notions. Basically, a cinephile is someone who would rather watch a movie or catch a quick episode from a television series in their free time, than do anything else.


The theme of an oft-repeated harangue between my mother and me is the incredibly large number of movies I seem to have watched in a remarkably short period of time-a habit, I'm certain I have inherited from my father. Consequently, he chooses to be a mute spectator during the aforementioned arguments, chipping in a stern word or two every now and then. So, having stormed out of one such heated argument, I intend to blow off some steam by talking about something far more twisted, complex and dynamic- my experiments with T.R.U.T.H aka my sibling. 

Think about it- we all have a perfectly, completely, incandescently happy place we take our minds to, when the going gets tough. This for me is the misty memory of my sister and I playing with an imaginary friend one summer noon three quarters of a decade ago. It encapsulates the naiveté of our relationship back then- a relationship that has charted an interesting course over the years. Today, we care more about each other than we’d like to admit.

Now, sibling wars are no myth. Ours feature riotous verbal matches, aggressive foot-stomping, exaggerated gesticulations and violent hair wrenching. A state of grim hostilities persist until the arrival of the mother- the Ultimate dispute settler. 

It is therefore hardly surprising that the stereotypical rebellious streak in our personalities began to surface much before the onset of our teens. While not outrageously disobedient, we were mischievous enough to know the power of flashing an innocent smile at a suspicious adult. Except of course, our grandmother….herself naughty enough to pull a fast one on us. 

Although we’re often mistaken to be twins (trust me, this ISN’T an exaggeration) we’re as different as different gets- be it food or fashion, music or movies, or even sense of style and clothing. For instance, I think her wardrobe is extremely casual, while she finds my obviously stunning, upbeat apparel collection…. well…. not casual. 

And so by default, we are each others’ greatest critics. A scathing Hmph! or Ugh! of disapproval from her makes me rethink every life defining decision from choosing between sleep and an extra hour of YouTube to figuring out the non-existent relationship between my heights of laziness and greed for stellar results. 

Although I’ve often wished my sister was a peck of dust I can flick away from time to time with the click of a finger, boredom dawns upon me during her absence. So I’m coerced to gingerly admit that I cannot imagine a past, present or future devoid of these misadventures.  After all, she is my arch rival cum best friend and I would be quite lost without either of the two. 

P.S. If you read this, don't tell my sister. Now, we wouldn't want her to know, would we? 
ALSO, GUYS, IF YOU READ MY RAMBLINGS ON THIS PAGE, DO COMMENT! I'd love to know what you think! Criticism is welcome :)