On the Endurance of Family

By Sadhika on

This land —my land — finds its soul in the festivals that sweep across its fields and cities like waves—each one a tribute, not just to gods or spirits, but to the very relationships that bind its people together.

Karwachauth is one example, where married women fast from sunrise to moonrise for the well-being and longevity of their husbands. Jamai Shashti is a unique celebration in Bengal, where mothers-in-law pamper their sons-in-law with special meals and gifts, strengthening the relationship between them. Teej is another festival that highlights the strength of marital bonds, particularly in northern India, where women pray for the health and happiness of their husbands and families.

Yet, among these celebrations, there is one that stands out in the simplicity of its gesture. Rakshabandhan, the festival of the bond between brothers and sisters. On this day, a sister ties a rakhi—a sacred thread—around her brother’s wrist. This thread, fragile as it may seem, carries with it the weight of promises made in the heart: the promise of protection, of love, of a bond that no distance or time can sever.

The story behind Raksha Bandhan is as ancient as it is beautiful. One legend speaks of the goddess Draupadi and Lord Krishna. When Krishna injured his finger during a battle, Draupadi tore a strip of her sari and tied it around his wound, stemming the flow of blood. In return, Krishna vowed to protect her, a promise he fulfilled time and again throughout her life. This simple act of caring, born out of love, became the essence of Rakshabandhan—the bond of protection between brother and sister.

In many parts of the world, cousins are seen as somewhat distant relatives—close, but not quite the same as siblings. But in India, the distinction between a brother and a male cousin often blurs. Growing up together, sharing meals, attending the same family functions, and sometimes even living under the same roof, cousins become as integral to one’s life as siblings. They are the partners in childhood mischief, the confidants in teenage dilemmas, and the supporters in adult responsibilities. On Rakshabandhan, a girl might have a brother by blood, but she will also tie rakhis to her male cousins, treating them with the same affection and reverence.

This year, Rakshabandhan falls on the 19th of August, and as sisters across India prepare their rakhis and brothers their gifts, the air will once again be filled with the gentle whisper of prayers, the rustle of new clothes, and the aroma of sweets being shared. But beneath it all lies something deeper, a sense of gratitude for the presence of one another in this vast, uncertain world.

But for me, this year, as the festival approaches, there is a shadow that lingers—a sorrow that blots out the festive lights. My cousin, who should have been here to celebrate, passed away on the 6th of August, much before his time. His absence is a wound that will take long to heal, a loss that words cannot fully capture. Now, as I look through old photographs, his face beams back at me, a reminder of the joy and love we shared. Rakshabandhan, for me, will be a time of remembrance—a tribute to the bond we shared, the laughs, the arguments, the moments of pure joy that now exist only in memory. 

This post is written in his loving memory, a small way to honour the relationship that was and will always be. For even in his absence, the thread of love remains unbroken, a rakhi that ties us together, beyond time, beyond life, into eternity.

Image source: Gilmore Girls, Season 7, Ep. 13 - I'd Rather Be in Philadelphia.

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