From Teasing to Tenderness: Celebrating Rakshabandhan in Sibling Relationships

Meenakshi NEsteves
Aug 9
3 min read

Updated: Aug 10

Rakhee - celebrating bond of sibling — Rakhee

Rakshabandhan is a cherished Indian festival celebrating sibling bonds. A sister ties a Rakhi—a sacred thread—on her brother’s wrist, symbolizing love and protection. In return, he promises to stand by her, always.

This is my Rakshabandhan tribute to my three brothers—my protectors, my playmates, my silent cheerleaders. Through every laugh, every fight, and every quiet act of love, they shaped the woman I’ve become.

The Girl in a House Full of Boys

I grew up as the youngest and only girl in the family, surrounded by four men — my father and my three elder brothers. People often assume that means I was pampered beyond belief, but the truth is far more interesting.

They were my protectors, my playmates, my comedians… and sometimes the reason I cried into my pillow. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

One of my favorite memories is watching cricket with them. I didn’t understand all the rules at first, but I loved the excitement. And the best part? When India needed a last wicket or just 4 runs, my brothers would turn to me — their little sister — and ask me to pray. I would fold my tiny hands with full dedication, feeling proud that I was the chosen lucky charm. In those moments, I felt important, seen, and truly special to them.

I tagged along wherever I could — especially to rented-movie nights and get-togethers at their friends’ houses. At first, they let me come. Later, not so much. The real reason was simple — I had grown up, and they were now a gang full of boys. It just didn’t make sense to them anymore — but to me, it felt like I was suddenly left out.

They were not the expressive type, but each loved me in his own way. And that love — and their struggles — shaped me deeply.

Growing Up with My Brothers

With age gaps of 8, 5, and 3 years, my brothers were my first friends. They teased me endlessly, called me nicknames, and sometimes drove me up the wall — but I was always included in their world when it mattered most.

The Eldest – He saw me as the little girl who needed disciplining mostly because I was a girl and youngest. For him, it was important that I had structure and limits.
The Middle Brother – The quietest of the three. Emotional but reserved. He always watched from a distance, always present but never expressive — even now.
The Youngest-Older Brother – He was the fun one — stubborn, more talkative, always aiming for big. He kept eye on me and people around me, that was his way of protecting me. I connected with him through laughter, through shared jokes, and teasing.

What I See Now

Back then, I saw them simply as my brothers. Today, I see the men they were becoming—and the silent battles they were already fighting.

I’ve come to recognize the quiet weight many men carry: The pressure to be strong. The fear of being vulnerable. The struggle to express what hurts without shame.

They learned to protect, to provide, to perform—often before they were ready. They were taught to love without words, to feel without showing, to break without being seen.

And yet, beneath all that conditioning, there was tenderness. There was love. There was a longing to be understood.

What Men Often Keep Inside

Here’s the thing: most men don’t say “I’m struggling.” They’ll say “I’m fine,” “It’s nothing,” or “Don’t worry about it.”

But I’ve learned that doesn’t mean they’re okay. It means they don’t know how — or feel safe enough — to share what’s really going on.

If you have brothers, fathers, partners, or friends who you sense are carrying more than they let on — trust that instinct. They might just need a safe space to unload.

How Four Men Shaped Me is a story for another time.

Growing up as the only girl among brothers — it shaped how I moved through the world. I led with masculine energy—only later realizing how much it had dimmed my feminine light. That awakening is still unfolding. That’s a whole other blog for another day.

For now — to my brothers — thank you. For the laughs, the lessons, and the love.