The evening sunshine seemed to play a bizarre game of light and shadows.
She gazed at it uncomprehendingly. She felt she could do it forever. Gaze!
What did it all mean anyway?
Now, now! Don’t get too philosophical about it, her mind warned. She
didn't have too many thoughts about the death of her brother. She didn't feel
the need to. Three months had been enough to pull her out of her liquid tears,
into a solid reality. Be patient, she reiterated. She could not believe that it
was herself who had hurled and tossed all her things here and there, turning
the house upside down, two days after.
You can cope. Everybody does! He used to say.
She heard it from him the first time when their first dog, Snuffy died.
She was eight. And later, ‘You can cope’ became her dose of strength. His words
never made her feel like she was extraordinary. He always said she was normal,
like the uncle next door, like their grandmother, and the little boy who played in the sand, on the
next street.
“Nothing about us is so extraordinary. Everyone has one’s own struggles.
We have, too. They cope, and we can cope too.”
Difficulties were that simple to him. She had stared at his picture and
had uttered, “I should have died first. Just to teach you, struggles are not so
easy to fight!”
They had their own fights. They talked them out, privately. But rarely,
when parents were around, they played the typical blame game.
“I didn’t touch a thing. It was all her!” he used to say, shrugging with
a non-committal attitude.
“He pushed me. It’s him!”
“It’s her!”
“It’s him!”
“It’s her!”
That’s how their fights started. They once fought about who should read
The Da Vinci Code, first. She’d asked for the book for her Raksha bandhan gift.
“For you. I know you love it. But it’s true that I bought it for you,
right? So, I’ll read first. Eligibility two, I’m elder to you!” he said.
“What has older and younger got to do with reading a book? Don’t be
silly! My gift, I read it first!” she
countered.
She let him read it first anyway, in exchange for a hug and a little
kiss on her forehead.
She walked over to her nightstand and held the book in her hand. Running
her finger over those tiny alphabets of her brother’s handwriting, she closed
her eyes and sighed with numbness. Over a past few days, she had really come to
understand what ‘feeling nothing’ seems like. She knew she was becoming cold,
and she knew she had to do something about it. She remembered that she would
turn twenty in three months. She wasn't concerned about not having boyfriend,
but about not having anyone to lean on in times like these. That’s when she realized
how much she depended on her brother.
He is gone now, and he is never coming back, she tried to tell herself. It
was time for acceptance and it was time to move on. She had to do something to
get over him, for her own good. And now was the time, she thought, and
retreated to her all-time savior- a pen and a paper.
She couldn’t start for a whole hour. And then she started scribbling
random thoughts about him. Word after word, she started to realize it was
actually helping. She shared a very special relationship with him, and she shared every bit of it, sincerely with
that piece of paper. She knew she was too attached to him to pour out whatever
she felt on a paper, fold it and hide it away for ever after. But she had to try.
And this seemed the only way.
You were always my wings,
When I craved to fly.
Without you by my side,
I look anxiously at the sky.
You were always my hug of relief,
Always my feel of home.
Always my back-up plan,
My brother, my friend, my Superman!
You were my bond, you were my freedom,
You were my hero, you were my phantom.
I always needed that little push you gave,
To get ahead.
You stirred me with joy,
With the million smiles you spread.
There were ties, there were fights,
There were tears, there were lights,
Hundreds of secrets and sleepless nights.
Shouts of spite and silence of love,
And comfort that reached stunning heights.
Pulling my leg and making me smile,
That fretful search when I was gone for a while,
I remember those triggering words you said,
Always making me go that extra mile.
Those protective hands that also tickled me,
Those wrestling shoulders that also cuddled me,
Are gone.
Forever.
It’s tough to take, but I’ll survive,
I know you will always be my drive.
There is a part of you in me, that can never be
killed,
And now, there is a huge void that can never be
filled.
