My Wish....Prithvish

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.