My Brother arrives

My brother was born when I was 6 years old. I got to travel by plane for the first time when we went to our native place for ammas delivery. She was wearing a yellow paper sari-it was called those days-that was gifted to her by my mama. I enjoyed the trip, the sweets. Best part was, I got to skip my 2nd std final exams (did KG when I was 4, 1st std when 5 and thats how I was 6 in my 2nd std) .I remember being a bit disappointed at not getting a sister, but eventually accepted the situation.

I do not remember being jealous of my brother, and I used to smother him with my over protectiveness. I used to boss over him no end, behaved as if he was my personal property. I was by nature aggressive in my affections and my brother was comparatively subdued. I used to hover around him constantly,and not allow him to turn this way or that, much to his annoyance.I could not bear to be separated from him, and showed him off to my friends. My friends adored him.

We did have our share of fights and arguments, sometimes I would make him cry, and I would cover his mouth so that Amma did not hear him crying. I would frantically try to pacify him. After a fighting session, I would keep sulking for quite some time, but he would forget the tiff soon after and win me over. He was so prone to accidents that we were always worried about him. He somehow always managed to get into some kind of trouble, and many a time was blamed for things that he did not do. He was a brilliant student and seemed to score marks without having to study.

In school, we were in different shifts, my brother in the morng shift and me in the afternoon shift. Early in the morng, I would accompany my brother to the bus stop, to send him to school. The climates were extreme, and in winters, I would wear 2 sweaters, and a scarf. My brother on the other hand hated wearing a sweater. During these trips, I would collect all sort of junk that Id find on the road, bits of coloured tiles, cute stones, little boxes and what not. I would treasure these, and during recesses in school,I wud draw rows and columns, place these bits and pieces on them and predict the future of my friends. Somehow I used to succeed in making them believe what I said.

After I reached school in the afternoon, I would give my brother orange juice that I had with me, put him in the bus heading home. I remember, I was perpetually afraid that if I did not put him in the bus, he would get in the wrong bus and reach elsewhere.

Once, I remember, I thought he got lost, and created such a ruckus in school, that from that day until I left the school, everybody in both the shifts knew us! There was this peon who would call me by my brothers name whenever he saw me on the corridors.

Many years later, when I was in college, and he was in a residential school, it broke my heart to think that he was away from us. It is another matter that he seemed to manage quite well in school. He was quite popular and had many friends.

He did his PUC, staying with us, I was married by then. We had lots of fun together- the three of us-My brother, my husband and myself.

Today, he is on one side of the globe, and Im on the other, and I miss him so. He is now married and the father of a little boy. We do keep in touch by mails and phone calls. We get to see each other a few days in a year, and we try to cram up all that we missed sharing amidst jet lags, numerous trips and other social obligations. But there is this sense of loss in the awareness that this is all that we can manage in the business of Life , and sometimes I yearn for his tangible presence, his closeness-I know he is always there for me, but sometimes that is not enuf- but it cannot be otherwise. The days when we used to be together always have gone forever, never to come back and that knowledge hurts.