Somebody asked me yesterday how it felt to have a superstar for a sister. I tried not to laugh as I imagined her as she looks in the morning in her poky knee pyjamas, hair like a bird’s nest, moon faced, plodding to the kitchen to make her exotic egg. Umm. It feels great, I try to tell them, and I am so so proud of her, I go on to say and I have to quickly straighten my grin, as an image of my beautifully groomed, heeled sister tiptoeing to reach the mike during her speech flashes across my eyes.
The thing about sisters is that we can see through the glitz to the real superstar inside. That superstar isnt the one who necessarily published a book (although that is super cool too)- that superstar is the one who missed the distinction by a few points and spent a dayor week thinking they were not worth it. We have the ability to see the real people, beneath the career accomplishments to the one who bakes you muffins because you are not feeling the top of your game. Sisters have a way of cutting through the layers of froo fra on top and getting down to the real person, sans concealer, freshly scrubbed and raw. And maybe thats why, I have still not found words to describe, even to myself how I felt yesterday when my littlest sister, became a superstar to the rest of the world. Because for me (and M), nothings really changed- she has always been one.
[kay‘s book, Raw Life, charts the journey of creativity in the lives of 10 creatives from Karachi, in an attempt to find what this elusive word could actually mean and where it comes from. Initially her undergrad thesis, this is now a fabulous coffee table book available at Liberty Books, Canvas Gallery and Galleria 919. Go get your copy now!]