A simple poem for a brother who, however old he grows, will always be a newborn for me.
When mother’s tummy started bloating at the rate of an air balloon
That’s when I asked my Grandfather for a trishool.
Odd one might say with the religious ignorance I show these days
But young and innocent I was (sort of)
Wished for another bloke, another goon.
I started a penance
I made a demand
I don’t want to fight with someone with pink ribbons on her head
No, blue will be the colour instead
Of our room
A brother I asked for, a desperate plea
Not a she, not a she, I want a HE!!
So came the 14th of October
And out popped a brother
The most precious gift ever
He had my face, and he seemed pretty clever.
God oh God how soft he was
Like a dew drop on an early morning rose
Like a pillow you fear just might
Tear open if you held on it too tight.
I used to go near him
Lovingly torment him
Until one day he got his revenge
And without warning bit
It is a moment is cherish
Of him losing his wit.
I wanted him to talk
When was he going to walk?
He grew up well and I for that I give my testimony
But then he changed his mind, thought it would be nice to throw toys from the balcony.
And later poop in the same place
Only for his brother to make a face
And clean up all the messy trace.
I would never ever have let him become someone else
You might call is selfish, I call it selflessness
There are some rules…and younger brothers should always play by them
To complicate matters less.
“You will play the game I teach you to”
“You will support the team I do”
“You will make Maggi and popcorn if I ask you”
Some things you cannot put behind you
Times when we played WWE-WWE and broke the bed
When we tried peeing on each other on a Sunday bath
When I smashed a watermelon on his head
When I stuck a chewing gum in his hair which led to him losing them
And the innumerable times when we disrupted the peace and harmony
Because that is what two crazy brothers are supposed to be known for in the society.
After a lot of tears, bruises and cuts I can still vision the happiness
After the last push on his cycle, seeing him whizz away towards independence
To forcing his finger off the swimming pool railing and throw him into the water
To push him off my floating body and see him falter
Watch with bated breath fearing he would drown
But still not dive in, let him go down
And then the elation to see the waters part
Today he can save someone, because I didn’t save him.
From the Rosarite who wore a Lal Chaddi
To the boy who always copied my hairstyle
And now the smart young man in the flaming green Vidyani blazer.
It has been a transition worth watching, worth never forgetting
Moments I was always recording, without him knowing.
Today when he scores a goal, its as if I kicked the ball
When he wears his council badge, its as if I’m pinning it on myself
When he can’t solve math, its as if I miscalculated
And when he finishes a book, its as if I read it again.
As he turns 16, I am proud
Proud he can sleep alone in a big house
Proud to see him keep his cool
Which I never could.
Proud he can ride a vehicle
Proud to see him excelling in accounts
Proud to see him look handsome
After all, its my face ;)
There are a thousand things to say
But this is a poem, not an essay.
All I can say is he today
And as he makes a foray
Has his own identity
With his unnerving quality
Garnished with some of my traits
Sprinkled with my language
But still standing out as himself.
I shall then hold my head high
In adding some touches to a final master-piece
When I will be known as ‘Your Brother’
And through that I will earn my right to call him my wish
My dear brother Prithvish.