Different Branches, One Root: The Sharma Siblings of Anwar Haveli
A Rakshabandhan Special
Rakshabandhan is often reduced to a simple ritual: a thread tied around a wrist, a promise of protection, and perhaps a box of sweets exchanged between siblings. But anyone who has grown up with brothers and sisters knows that the real bond is far more complicated—and far more beautiful. It is made of shared secrets, fierce arguments, unspoken understanding, embarrassing childhood memories, quiet sacrifices and the certainty that, whatever happens, someone has your back.
Few families embody this wonderfully messy reality better than the Sharma siblings of Anwar Haveli in Harshali Singh’s Haveli Series—A Window to Her Dreams, The Anatomy of Choice, A Paradox of Dreams, and Whispers of the Buried Past.
Aruna, Bhavya, Charu, Dheeraj and the triplets Etti, Fanny and Gina are seven very different people, with different temperaments, ambitions and wounds. Yet the sprawling hundred-doored haveli in Chandni Chowk binds them together. They may grow in different directions, but their roots remain firmly intertwined.
And that is what makes their sibling relationships so compelling: they do not simply love one another. They challenge, protect, irritate, rescue and sometimes hurt one another—and then find their way back.
When protection needs no words
The relationship between Aruna and Dheeraj is a perfect example of the contradictions that can exist within a sibling bond.
As the only son born after three daughters, Dheeraj grows up with the privileges and expectations attached to being the family’s male heir. Aruna naturally resents some of that preferential treatment. Yet beneath the resentment is a fierce tenderness. She may have complicated feelings about her brother, but she would still “fight like a tigress” to protect him.
Dheeraj, in turn, becomes her quiet protector.
On the night before Aruna’s second wedding, when a panic attack leaves her overwhelmed, her younger brother does not try to give her grand advice. He simply sits beside her, rubs her back and begins folding a saree with her—the same mundane task they had shared as children. In that small gesture is everything that makes sibling love powerful: sometimes, you do not need to know what to say. You simply stay.
Their relationship later comes full circle as they help one another rebuild their lives and rediscover their confidence. When Dheeraj struggles with his own shattered dreams, Aruna reminds him that he is brave. His response says just as much about how he sees his sister: “You are the brave one here, Aruna Di.”
Sisters who are fire and anchor
If Aruna and Dheeraj show us the quiet side of sibling protection, Aruna and Bhavya show us its louder, more complicated version.
Only two years apart, the sisters grow up almost like twins. Yet they could hardly be more different. Aruna is cautious and traditional; Bhavya is independent, impulsive and fiercely unwilling to fit herself into society’s expectations.
Naturally, they argue.
They also understand one another in ways few others can.
When Aruna’s first marriage falls apart, Bhavya’s earlier warnings create a painful distance between them. Hurt, guilt and defensiveness come between two sisters who have always been close. But sibling relationships have a remarkable ability to survive the things that might end other relationships. When Bhavya returns from Paris, their reconciliation comes not through a dramatic speech but through an embrace in the kitchen—a moment in which hurt gives way to forgiveness.
And then there is the fun.
Their private eye-talk across the breakfast table, their teasing, their whispered relationship advice and their ability to turn even awkward situations into shared jokes remind us that siblings can be our safest audience precisely because they have known us at our most ridiculous.
The sibling who sees what others cannot
Charu occupies a different place in the Sharma family.
After losing her eyesight as a child, she develops an extraordinary sensitivity to the emotions of those around her. But what is especially moving is that her siblings do not treat her as fragile. They allow her to be simply Charu—the sister who knows when someone is lying, senses when something is wrong and often understands what her siblings cannot articulate themselves.
She becomes, in many ways, the family’s emotional compass.
When Aruna struggles with self-doubt and fear, Charu gently reminds her that the right relationship should lift her rather than diminish her. Her words are not merely advice; they are the kind of truth a sibling can offer because they know the person behind the fear.
And Charu, too, draws strength from the family. No matter how far her work takes her, she knows that Anwar Haveli remains a place where she can return. Home, in the Sharma family, is not merely a building. It is the people waiting inside it.
Seven siblings, one glorious chaos
Then come Etti, Fanny and Gina—the triplets who inject a different kind of energy into the haveli.
They are noisy, curious, mischievous and fiercely loyal. Even as children, they instinctively band together to protect Aruna from a threatening situation. As they grow older, their personalities become increasingly distinct, but the closeness remains.
Gina fusses over everyone during family occasions. Etti turns to Aruna when she needs a confidante. The siblings exchange gossip and advice on long video calls, tease Dheeraj about his cooking and bicker with the comfortable abandon of people who know that an argument does not mean the relationship is in danger.
That bickering is perhaps one of the most authentic things about the Sharma family. Love does not always sound sentimental. Sometimes it sounds like someone threatening to “kick your ass”; sometimes it is an eye-roll, a joke, a complaint about money or a sibling laughing at exactly the wrong moment.
But beneath all that noise is an extraordinary sense of belonging.
The roots remain one
The Sharma siblings are not perfect. They disagree. They make mistakes. They carry old resentments and personal struggles. Their relationships are tested by marriage, distance, trauma, ambition and the choices each makes.
Yet, when one of them is in trouble, the others close ranks.
That is perhaps the most enduring message of the Haveli Series: sibling love is not about always agreeing or always being gentle. It is about knowing that even after the argument, the teasing and the hurt, the door remains open.
And perhaps that is why Anwar Haveli is such an apt setting for their story. A house with a hundred doors, filled with seven siblings who constantly move in and out of one another’s lives, becomes a metaphor for family itself. There may be many doors, many rooms and many different paths—but the roots remain connected.
As the series puts it so beautifully, the Sharma family is like branches of a tree, “all growing in different directions, yet the root of this family remains one. Love.”
On the auspicious occasion of Rakshabandhan, that may be the truest celebration of siblings: not that they are alike, not that they never fight, but that no matter how far their lives take them, they know where they belong—and who will be there when they return.
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