Ever played the game of Twister?


Yes, the one which exercises your flexibility. The ultimate game with the sole purpose of inducing torture through the contorting of hardened joints and heavy bones. Yet, ironically, the game provides comic relief (especially for the onlooker!)due to the fact of taking pleasure, albeit in a rather sadistic manner, in the self-inflicted tortures of the people on the colourful mat.


I have been greatly entertained, especially when the situation involves a motley bunch of big-sized baboons, fresh (or,should I say, stale and smelly)from school.


Imagine four heavy-set boys, clad in the pure white uniforms of their well-respected school, huddled in assorted stances on the Twister mat, shouting out colours and body parts as if their life depended on them. Moments of pain were evident in the trembling hands and prolonged groans that echoed the room.


The occasional guffaws of laughter came about when the suggestion of a hint of "otherwordly aroma" evoked by one of the Yoga masters were made known to the rest. (I leave it to you to imagine what wonderful scents and fragrances could have been emanating from the butts that were thrusted high into the heavens and with bodies that have not endured the suffering so commonly experienced on the running track.)


Tempted to see their sadistic play, I escaped from my studies and made my way downstairs to witness what the boys were up to. As described, they were creating their own imaginary world, bodies flayed across each other, forming arches with their thick torsos and establishing pillars with their clumsy feet.


The one that seemed to be relishing the moment would be The Dictator.He was The One who decides their destiny: whether to do a "Cirque du Soleil" or to be spared from such agonies (being in a relaxed position).


With his thrusty sidekick a.k.a. The Spinning Board, he issues a decree of which his subjects have to comply to (amidst disapproving grunts).


On my "coincidental" occasion of passing them, on the pretext of what seemed to be me refilling my water bottle, I happened to glance upon his countenance and was surprised that he acknowledged my presence (the others were too busy figuring out their next move).


The impression which I have been trying to create- that of the stern and aloof older sister of my brother- seemed to have gone down in shambles after trying in vain to control my laughter upon catching them red-handed in their childish play. (My brother smiled coyly back upon realising that I there).


Retreating back to my safe haven upstairs, I couldn't help but ponder over the nature of Man: how we have to face the inexorable task of creating different facades when placed in different circumstances.


When in the company of friends, my brother's cold and hard persona took on a lighter side, even to the extent in which he actually became amiable and approachable. In the presence of his friends, I took over my brother's position and became the "withdrawn, unfriendly sister."


What are we trying to prove by being so caught up in playing Twister to different people's feelings?


Night approaches. The incessant chattering and laughing died down as, one by one, the boys retired from their play and made their way home.


The brother that I knew has returned again.