The onus of responsibility

For those of you who bemoan the fact that you have one or two siblings to contend with, take heart from the fact that there aren't more of you than you can count. The childish remark "I wish you hadn't been born", when a particularly obstreperous brother or sister seems bent on spoiling one's fun, is oft-heard wishful thinking.

Consider this family comprising seven sisters and one lone brother. The male sibling had to put up with his mother's constant harping on the fact that he was privileged to be the sole guardian of his sisters! Thus, he learnt how a simple thing such as walking to school could be ruined by having to keep an eye out for them, an impossible task unless he had seven pairs of peepers.

As long as the mother stood at the doorstep as they left for school, he was the epitome of watchfulness and courtesy, making certain that he had them under control, although the exercise did remind him of a shepherd for whom he now felt a newly awakened empathy.

His heart lifted as they approached the first turning. Now that they were no longer within the mater's direct line of vision, he felt a new-found sense of freedom. The first thing he did was to cross the street after giving them strict instructions not to follow. He would keep an eye on them from the far side. The bleating about this action not meeting their mother's instructions was quickly brushed aside as he spotted the first of many mates. Warning the sisters of dire consequences if his bid for freedom ever reached the ears of she who would not be named, he casually caught up with his friends, trying his best to ignore the female horde on the other side of the street. The wretchedness of his position as the only male offspring seemed to be driven home at every possible opportunity.

There was the agony of the weekly dance at the local club, a stone's throw away from where they lived. His mother was firmly of the old school who believed that a certain protocol had to be followed at every social function. It was his firm duty, he was told, to ask each of his sisters for a dance before asking anyone else. The preposterousness of the suggestion defied logic. Mumbling about the impossibility of such a task in the face of the sheer numbers, he found himself looking into a face as implacable as stone. Quailing before such dogged determination, he wisely stopped in mid-sentence. Even he knew better than to fight a losing battle.

So, off he went to what he viewed as a never-ending line of wallflowers. As he did his duty, his eyes wistfully watched other dancing couples, none of whom seemed to be related in any way. As his glance fell upon a particularly winsome lass whom he would love to chat up, he realised the futility of wishful thinking. By the time he had taken a whirl with these seven sisters, none of the attractive girls would be free for a dance.

And, true to his observations, as soon as his ordeal ended and he looked around for a face bearing no family resemblance, nary a fair face was to be found.

The years went by and he was lucky enough to find the girl of his dreams. Perhaps much of his happiness could be attributed to the fact that he could now relinquish the onerous responsibility of being the keeper of so many sisters' souls.

His wedding day dawned clear and bright. Everything was perfect. As he finished dancing with his wife, he felt an imperious glance fixed on the back of his head. Turning around, he found himself staring into eyes that looked pointedly at seven familiar faces. Suppressing a groan, he decided that it was time to rebel. But what he hadn't reckoned for was the beseeching look in his bride's eyes which seemed to say, "Do this for me."