THE OTHER KID BORN OF THE SAME BLOOD

I think the most horrific memory I have of my brother is the time I accidently dropped his inkpot.It crashed to the ground from his study table, the ink spreading across the floor. You could have mistaken it for blood if it were not for the colour.I remember feeling shit scared of what he would say.My fear was quite justified.After helping me clean the floor,he made me face the wall and rub my nose against it.Even a hundred apologies did not mollify him.At the end of half an hour when he finally relented and let me off from the wall I had already lost probably 10 layers of my skin.It was his turn to be horrified.Obviously. Dad got to know of the incident and I think blasted my brother.He didn't think the punishment merited the crime. Neither did I.Yet, I still had to go an entire term to school with a tanned brown face and a pinkish white nose. I'm surprised that I don't have the nickname 'Rudolph'.

My brother used to always delight in getting in me into trouble with my aunts and my grandmother. The same as I used to love getting him into trouble with Dad. It helped that Dad was mostly partial towards his younger daughter.There was this one time when my brother and me were eating Dosas at the table and he started sprinking his with Catch salt. Quick to imitate my brother in everything he did, I mimicked his action. No sooner did I begin, he shouted out, " Patti, look at what Deepti is doing!!!". My grandmother quick to support her sensible grandson and berate her scatterbrained grand daughter whacked me across my head and when I said, "But, it was Siddhu who told me to" admonished me for lying about my brother.It was always said by everyone, " I wish Deepti were more like Siddhu. He is sooo 'Samathu'( well behaving ) whereas Deepti is too naughty and always getting into trouble".They never bothered to try find out that quite a few of the scrapes I got into, I was ably led into them by him and while I was left holding the sword he would have long since sprinted away.

I paint a rather devilish,wicked and bullyish picture of my brother don't I? That he was. But I think he was also a lot more than that.

I remember all those times he was around to pull me out of all those terrible scrapes I would get into ( irrespective of whether he got me into them or not!!).The time when I was six and I lit a 50 walah holding it in my hand. He quickly lept, grabbed it out of my hand and threw it away just in the nick of time.He slapped me, but never complained to Dad about it.Or those times when I was eight and he was thirteen and we would travel alone from our grandparent's house to ours by bus ( some 20 kms).When the bus would be crowded, he would find me a seat to sit in and keep an eye on me throughout the journey.

But, more than any other incidents there are three that I will probably never forget.

When we were small,during my birthdays, after the party he would invariably take me to a shop and buy me 'Phantom Ciggaretes' as a birthday gift 'cause they were my favourite sweets.I adored him so much!!

The second was when I was three and he was eight.We were playing Holi in our apartment complex when I suddenly felt a shooting pain in my stomach. I pointed at another kid and tugging at my brother's kurta told him,"Anna, my stomach is paining.That boy he shot me". The boy in question was probably twenty feet away,just staring at us and by no stretch of anyone's imagination could have wielded a gun that could have sprayed me from that far away! Yet , my brother just to comfort me and stop me from being unhappy pointed his pichkari in that guy's direction and sprayed it a couple of times in the air and said, "There, now I have shot him too". Reminds me of that Surf Excel brother and sister ad.

The last one is the time when I probably had lost my calculator for the umpteenth time when I was in college.I was terrified of what my Dad would say.I was certain I was going to get screwed. I decided to ask my bro for a loan to buy a new one. He gave me this disgusted look and asked me, " why don't you just ask dad? He will blast you but will definitely get you a new one". When I told him that it was the second calculator I had lost in a year, he gave me this dry look and said "No. Why don't you just learn to face your stupidity?".A couple of hours later and a million under the breath raves and rants against my brother for being so insensitive, I found a brand new calculator lying on my desk and a short lecture on being more careful. I was amazed, yet touched.Never found the right words to thank him.

My brother is one of the most contradictory persons I have ever met. The birthdays I would ask him for a gift, he would tell me to get lost. Yet on the birthdays in which I didn't remind him off, I would find a gift lying on my study table and an indifferent, "Ah, Happy Birthday".

My brother has never been one for words. He would probably give me a disgusted look if I were ever to ask him if he cared about me. We don't really have anything to talk to each other about. I think its years since we had a decent conversation with each other.When we do talk our conversation is quite stilted and formal. Any stranger would be quite justified in thinking that we were just acquaintances if they were to overhear the kind of conversations we have.Yet none of it has ever really mattered to me. Because no conversation, no honeyed words of love, no hugs and kisses can replace what I do know that I have from my brother. Despite our indifference towards each other, I do know that I have someone I can always depend on when I'm stuck in a quagmire of shit.

P.S

Hey Bro! I know you never read my blogs. I probably will as usual get you a shirt or a music CD for your birthday the way I always have.But this is a special dedication to you for our 22.5 years of being bro and sis!! Happy Birthday, April 19th!!