A Big Brother's Diary

Trying to act as a big brother can be really tough, when you have an obnoxious little bloke, snarling fumes of fury, right at your toes, wanting to break away from the shackles of subordination...

Confused? Well, for those who felt that I had made a complete mess out of the first line, lemme tell you that I actually haven't.

I have a small brother. Big Deal.

The fact that he hates me is an even bigger deal.

Well, things can be surprising when you know what runs in the mind of a human living the worst part of his life. When he is no longer a kid, and not yet an adolescent.

Thank god, kids don't play Baseball in India. I can already imagine my sibling, wearing a nasty smile with a lopsided baseball cap, coming to hurl the baseball to try and kill me during my sleep, when I'm having sweet dreams about my girlfriend.

I puke everytime when I think about this, but whoever told the shit about first-borns getting a lot of "RESPECT" in the family??? First person in my hit list would be him, no doubt. We live like Alligators people!!! Have you once seen them stand on their toes??? Thanks to the species, "HOMO YOUNGERALIS" (forget that, people.....Ive just coined that right now....its just a 'two-minute' old word).

I once peeped into my brother's diary and I shrank back. Not even 'Exhausist' could have scared me more. In it was written in a careless writing, done cruelly by stubby fingers, on how to make me feel at hell!

I Couldn't believe it.The rate at which he was going, he is sure to be publishing a Handbook.

'98 Ways to torture your Big Bro.'

I shake my head in attitude, and he breaks down laughing. Says its insanity.

I sing my heart out, and he breaks down crying. Says its an overdose of a sonic poison.

I plug the walkman into my ears and he pulls them out. Throws a tantrum and says, "Mummy! thats my favourite song!". He wins again.

He bugs my bathroom and says, my friends would catch a glimpse of my bath, if I'm rude to him. GOD SAVE ME!!!

He flirts with my girlfriend when I'm not home, thanks to the auto remember password in Messenger. Sometimes, he adds salt to the injury when we're on a fight. Plays a rotten double game to turn her againsty me for the time being.

How can the mental maturity of kids scale new heights? When he's as smart as me, and 5 years younger to me, how will he be five years down the line?

My Physics record does a somersault, or the Chemistry record does a backflip, when he is at his worst. Flying pillows and outstreetched bedspreads, SIMless cellphone and Gripless cricket bat, are some of the modellings done by the little master of my house.

Modern Art. Aint it?

My math textbook would be lying right now, in some Onyx bin, thanks to the wierdo, who brought it down to tatters.

I've had enough.

Time to get even stevens with him.

I'm going to think of a way, to get back on this urchin who is becoming a pain in the....

Wait a minute!

He's changed my Blogspot password!

I am so not able to sign in....NOOOOOO!!!!!

- Yours 'Bigbrotherfully'

Rajaram.

A Heartbreaking Jump

Trrrring!

I stirred a little.

Trring!

I shuffled for sometime and put the pillow on my ear.

TRRRRING!!!

The Alarm clock was trying its best to wake me up from my 5 hour sleep, and it had eventually succeded.

I pushed my bedcovers aside to exit the bedroom. Mum was waiting in the hall, along with a smart man, in his early-thirties, about 5 years older than me, who was wearing a uniform with a cap.

"Good Morning Ma.", I half yawned.

"Varun, the twin bed has just been delivered. We were waiting for you to get up so that we could shift this to your bedroom.", she smiled.

I smiled to myself. The single bed would no longer occupy my room and invite me to sleep. Instead, I was to have a bigger bed with another companion with me, who was to come in shortly, in my life. My gaze slowly shifted to the table and was fixed on the multitude of colours that splashed itself all over the table. The colourful invitations of my marriage were scattered throughout the table, waiting to be addressed.

But there was one person to who I had to give the first invitation. My soulmate. My brother. My twin. Tarun. Thinking of him sent a pang of pain and a wave of emotions that rattled my heart.


Me(Varun) and Tarun were twins, who were almost a jack of all things. Popularly called as the Whiz Kids in school, we excelled in almost every endeavour we set foot together in. After passing school with flying colours, we set foot into college, with an international trip awaiting us, two years later.

Though I knew all twins looked alike, we virtually broke all the records of being similar. It became difficult for even our relatives to distinguish us, when we wore the same shirts and stood next to each other. When people saw two boys with a tall frame, broad shoulders, prominent nose with a fleshy lip, and the swept back hair that demanded recogonition, they were baffled as to who was who.

Leave alone looks, we were strikingly similar in character too, a feature which is often not found in twins. Both of us liked black, had a liking for football, loved Paneer Butter Masala, along with our fascination towards the same kind of books and lucky numbers.

The story did not change much in college, when we easily became the most popular duo of the campus in less than a year. Sarika, who was Tarun's best friend and my...er....whatever, knew almost everything about us, except for the fact that I loved her.

I was suddenly jerked back to the present. I took up the invitation in my hands.

Varun

Weds

Sarika

On the front I wrote, "To my dear Tarun.". The innumerable days we had spent together in the same bedroom and the laughs we shared together along with the fights, problems and the solutions we searched together flashed on and off...

On and Off... On and Off... On and Off...

"Varun! Stop Switching the bathroom light on and off!" shouted mum, as I realised I was turning the switch again and again.

"Oops. Sorry Ma. By the way, ask Pa to get ready soon. Lets invite Tarun today."

Her face changed. She nodded subtly and turned to exit the bathroom.

The cool water of the shower was piercing me like pincers on my raw chest, soothing them. But no water, nor potion in this world could smother the pain inside the chest, that was to live forever.

Tarun and I had been selected for a trip to Australia to represent our college, along with Sarika. Deciding to have a great time in the Island Continent, we equipped ourselves with fully charged batteries for cameras and iPods, and loads of books to occupy us.

Tarun and Sarika were discussing something in hushed whispers and when I tried to indulge myself, they stopped at once. My good mood overshadowed my urge to know what they were talking, as I pulled my backpack on my shoulders, and dragged my suitcase along the polished floor of the Chennai Airport. After waving a hearty goodbye to our parents, we boarded the flight.

Tarun had to sit with another person in the flight, as Sarika and I had the two seater to ourselves. I noticed Sarika gazing at the multitude of shapes that the clouds assumed. I then looked at Sarika. Her sliding hair... The charming touch... Full of charisma and intelligence, She was the ideal match for me. But the question was, did she love me too?

My gaze was disrupted by a pleasant hostess, who served us drinks and juices, as we prepared ourselves to sleep. The next day, we had ended up with my head on her shoulder and hers on mine.

Australia was awesome. The beaches literally took our breaths while the sprawling expanse of green, sandwiched by the occasional stretches of the pleasant countryside, to be bordered by the treacherous desert, reminded us partially of India, considering the awesmoe variety of geographical features.

The Conference was a totally new experience, partially because it gave us an insight as to how, teenagers across the globe looked at things, and we realised that teenagers all over the world, may it be an Indian, American, Australian, South African or a Japanese, were all the same. We absolutely had a great time enjoying and mingling with our fellowmates at the place.

Meanwhile, I switched off the shower to break the train of thoughts in my mind, and wrapped the towel around myself. My phone had been ringing for a long time and it was Sarika.

"Hey Sarika. I am inviting Tarun today."

"That is why I called you Varun. I'm coming there directly from my place, so I'll meet you there.", she replied.

I revved up the engine of my Swift, and leaned on the steering wheel. It had been a long time since I had last met him. I noticed my parents entering the car. I then maneuvered the car through the 'crisscross'ly arranged cars in the car park and drove out of our apartment.

After finishing our conference, we thought of Bungee Jumping, on the day before our return to India. Again I noticed Tarun and Sarika talking to each other. This time I couldn't restrain myself.

"Sarika, Whats this thing that you both have been talking all the way from India?"

And her reply was short, frank, blunt and crisp.

"Nothing Varun. Tarun just told me that you loved me and I told him that I'm in love with you too."

Nothing, absolutely nothing in the world could have replaced that golden moment and the tingling sensation inside the laybrinths of my heart, when I realised that the love of my life had reciprocated my feeling towards her. I ran towards her and hugged her so hard that she was lifted off the ground. I ran my hand over her tender cheeks and whispered to her,

"I love you Sarika."

"I Love you too Varun.", she replied, with a fire in her eye.

We finally reached the spot, a cliff, stop which we were waiting for our chance to jump. Tarun was the first to go. Before jumping, He smiled at me. The last smile which I was to get from him. He signalled me towards Sarika, who was standing alone. I inferred that he wanted me to spend some time alone with her.

And He jumped.

Never to come back.

He bounced on the rope for a couple of times, and then sank dangerously low. What I saw below, was enough to haunt me for the rest of my life. Tarun had collapsed on the canopy of the treacherous trees which layered the laybrinth of the cliff. The rope had given way.

"NOOOO! TARUNN!", I screamed. In my grief, I had lost sense. I dashed for the cliff to jump off it.

"NO VARUN! I DON'T WANT TO LOSE YOU TOO!", cried Sarika, and held me back.

But things were not bad after all. Tarun was found. Found alive. But just. He was scarred badly and he had a major hurt on the back of his head, treacherously close to his spine, that rendered him mentally retarded.

The return flight to India was the worst 15 hours of my life ever.

Whenever I turned to see Tarun, he just stared at the roof of the flight with a blank expression on his face, and no depth in his eyes. I realised that the dynamic duo had broken that day. What should have always been "WE", now had reduced to "ME".

I finally braked near a pleasantly painted building in Pink, the car tyres, screeching due to the contact with gravel. I looked up to behold the signboard.

"Darshan's Home for the Mentally Retarded"

The receptionist held out a registrar in which we signed our names. We entered Tarun's room. Sarika was already waiting. I looked down and saw Tarun.

Not even Seven long years of loneliness had brought a change on Tarun. He was the same, with an air of careless beauty hovering around him. The long hair and the unkept beard reminded me of the contrasting Teenager who was my Twin.

"Here Tarun, Me and Sarika are going to get married. You will be the chief guest for our reception. All right? And remember? You were the one who joined us together. In Austra...",

I couldn't continue.

I utterly broke down on Sarika's shoulders, unable to justify God's sadistic game, played on Tarun's life. How could one be so cruel so as to break a brand new shining mirror even before it was half used?

Sarika seemed to have felt what I was feeling right then. She replied,

"Varun, we cannot blame God for what happenes to us. Its Fate. Fate that so wickedly plays with our life, pushing us deeply into the bowels of sorrow, or elevating a man-of-nothing to the heights of stardom or greatness. We need to be thankful to God for the fact that Tarun survived such a big accident and is still here with us. I surely have an inside feeling that Tarun will be back to normal someday or the other. Mental injuries can have surprising remedies. I trust God."

Something in her, made sense. Infact, not something, everything made sense. Deeply wishing for Tarun to recover, I walked up to him to hug him whole heartedly.

I felt Tarun returning my hug.

That by itself was a beginning. Trying to console myself partially, I turned to exit the Home, and get on with the astronomical list of friends and relatives to whom I had to invite for my marriage.

Love you Tarun.

Strumming the strings with what you have

I looked down at my logarithm worksheet lying on the table, strewn in the midst of all the other guidebooks for my IIT entrance exams, about to begin in a week. My pen was in its opened state, gaping at the notebook filled with calculations. I must have dozed off, trying to over-tax myself on multitasking.

But more pressing matters woke me off from my reverie as I woke up with a jolt, remembering my drift with Vidya, the girl I so dearly loved, yesterday. The importance of the matter kicked the sense out of me, as we broke up because of not taking her out yesterday as it was her birthday.


Why can't god thrust sense into people, to understand the magnitude of responsibility I'm, instilled with?

I pulled my bedcovers away from me to move to the mirror.

I took out the toothpaste to find it flat as a paper.

Finances were quite low to buy a toothpaste as i was saving every penny to take Vidya out, and that was so totally busted yesterday, with Vidya crying her way home. I made a futile attempt to squeeze the last breath of the toothpaste out of it, as it gave a "sheesh" kinda sound, giving out useless air, instead of the paste. I ruefully realised the need to buy a new one and took out the reserve paste(half empty) from the bathroom to use it conservatively.

Life had hit hard on me, for people who knew me from my birth. Sadly no such people existed due to the earthquake that rattled my city in 2000, the Bhuj disaster had loaned my parents away from me, only to let me know that it wasnt a loan, it was a gift from me to the disaster, as I lost my parents, never to see them again till date.

I had a strong belief that I would be reunited with them by some guardian angel as I couldn't believe they were dead, nor did I have concrete evidence as to their death.I had penned a song for my documentary after I broke uip withVidya, trying to sing it out to her to say how much I liked her. I started for Vidya's house, hostel I mean, to make it up to her,but I realised it was useless as soon as she opened the door.

Vidya was one of those kind of girls, who were as intelligent as she was beautiful. She was an excellent contrary example for those blokes who thought, beauties were brawns.Vidya opened the door, the stains of her tears, still fresh on her face. She usually didn't make a fuss for trifle thing, so that told me what I was dealing with, was serious.

"Well...Vidya....I was really....", I began

"....Really sorry Vijay?", she finished for me.

" I thought you would never even wish me Vijay, and it was the eighth wonder that you did. But I never expected you to take me out, and you never really did. And if you would excuse me, I want to have a talk with Varun, my new boy friend, who is partnering me in the documentary. "

And the door slammed shut, with me gaping at it.

How could she dump me? Why should she go for Varun? When from did she start seeing him? Whyfor did she slam the door? Questions romped my mind and gave birth to a baby-determination, screaming at me to unleash it on the documentary.

Instead of going to my house, I went to the slums, searching for a location, inspired by the latest Oscar winning movie. Maria and Tara, the best child singers of the church coir, attended to my farcry of desperation by agreeing to sing for me. I at once took them to my studio, losing my temper over couple of times, when Tara sat on my Keyboard and strummed the strings of my guitar so hard that it was near to shackles. I patiently made them sit down, put the headphones on, and told them not to sing loud, lest they bamboozle the recorder (thats me).

The voices of 2 sweet 9 year olds couldn't have stirred much emotion than anyother voice I could have thought of. The childish voices which hadnt turned mature, gave me a raw realisation of wat was truly love. I first made them sing alone, without the instruments, lest they got hyperactive on listening to them.

I first added a layer of simple keyboarding, then overlapped it by the occasional strum of the guitar and topped it with some cymbals at the place of choruses, to give it a silent but strong feel.My encouragement fuelled their ambition and once it started burning, it was difficult to extinguish them even after they had finished singing their best. It had taken them all of the first trial to ward off their fear of singing, the second trial to correct their mistakes, and the third one to perfect the song according to me.

By the time I finished the song, I had half assured myself that I would win the first prize alone with the cash award of 15,000. The next step took the hardwork of finding a location.

At last an idea struck me with the arrival of the sweeper into my room. I called out to her,

"Hey chameli aunty"

"Yes Beta?"

"Could you do me a favour?"

"Tell me Vijay, whats it?"

"Could you take me to your home and introduce me to your son, daughter and your husband?"

She was taken by surprise, but agreed quickly, after reeling from the pleasant shock. I swept my handicam from my study table and followed her to the slums. She was proudly beaming to the others on having introduced a city boy to the slums.

I went in to the small cottage at the near of the city trash dump, stiffled by the pungent smells of the slums and stained with the marks of poverty. The grafitti of political partied posed for my handicam as i entered the cottage. The visior of the cam dulled on account of the darkness of the room. My documentary film started with the sweeper feeding her children with the limited rotis which they have.

Suddenly her husband entered. He didnt notice me. He ran towards the children and took them in his arms and hugged them. The scene of love was captured by my handicam as I silently drited off from the slums.I took a series of other scenes of parental love and the love between two lovers.

The documentary, I decided would be on the two different kinds of love. I took the movie, and edited it, merged with the background score. I felt goosebumps of pride and emotion as I finished hearing it fully for the first time.It was midnight. The triumph of completing my album, was dampened by the pang of rememberance of Vidya, who was also contesting with me in the competition by projecting the topic of 'Development of Japan'.

My eye-lids were as heavy as lead and were pleading to let them close. I obeyed them and slowly drifted off to sleep.

The next morning.....

I was late. Half an hour before the competition and I was standing half naked before the bathroom mirror to glimpse a tired replica of me pleading for more sleep. I quickly took bath, dressed up and hastily and locked the door, only to find myself without the CD of my documentary. I reopened the door, took the CD, along with the backup Pen-Drive and climbed on my cycle, riding it in one hand, and stuffing my mouth with a roack hard-stale sandwich with the other hand.

Pumping my energy in short bursts on the pedal, I was going top speed, when the rubber of my back-tyre met with the metal from the fender of a Ford Fiesta. I looked back angrily to behold a slightly greying man in his 50's about the age of my dad, if he had been with me. His face was flaring red, which didn't make any impact on my cool face.

"Give me the CD boy, letme show you not to drive helter-skelter in the road", saying this, he satched the CD and broke it into 2 neatly shaped halves.

If It hadn't been for the lack of time, I would have blasted the life out of the body virtually, from the rookie driver. But realising that I had a backup, i rode off.

The programme had begun with Vidya's presentation and imagine my surprise when I found the man whose car dashed me, to be the unfortunate judge! I desperately wanted the money and how could I win it when the man was already writing me off from the winners list?The response to Vidya's film was sizzling, and that woke me up from the strom of thoughts in my mind.

The last presentation was mine.

It began with the prelude with the Keyboard.

""Thoughts are like glowing lanterns
Like one everyone have in the deepest of heart
Some enlighten memories
Remember your first step
Can you memorize it? May be no
But she can.
The joy in her eyes was dropping on you
Just feel…. That is still there
The lanterns in her eyes are always glowing
For you, to tell her”I love you”"

The first paragraph of the song was introduced with the slums, which led to a big BOO form the crowd. Undeterred the slideshow exposed the raw love in the house of a daily wage labourer and slowly moved to the fountian near the seaside.

The scene of a baby taking its first steps in the sand came into focus. The tentative steps were accompanied by the odd smile from the slender lips of the baby, on walking in a new terrain. After some time, the baby tripped and fell down, to be supported by its daddy. On this note, the second paragraph began to start, the sweet voices of Maria and Tara, richoeting off the walls of the auditorium.

""Remember your insecure feelings during early teens,
Can you memorize it? May be no
But he can.
His shoulders were strong enough for a life like you
They are still there, with you for all
His thoughts are the holy flowers
Always blessed you with warmth and love
The passion in his heart is ever fiery
For you, to tell her “I love you”"

Then the scene of two lovers sharing an ice-cream started to feature. The guy cracked a joke, which led the girl to stamp the ice-cream, smearing it on his face. They both laughed together and hugged each other. The next stanza started.

"The fire in her eyes, looking at you...
expecting a token of love in return,
to the feeling fuelled by your actions,
words and sweet promises
for even sweeter nothings.
The relation, so suddenly shattered,
by an actual nothing,
broke my heart like a mirror.
I crave to stick it together,to say to her(Vidya),
'I love you'"

I looked at the crowd to Vidya, who was using her handkerchief to blot the tears from her beautiful face. That sure smelled victory for me in one area, I thought.

The next one featured a scene of a teenager graduating, and going abroad, never to care for his parents again in his life, the parents waiting with the beacon of hope standing tall inside them that their child would take notice of them. Maria and Tara started the next stanza.

""Remember the two foundation stones of life
Be with them even you are busy
Give them the best thing you can
That is the purity of your heart and attention
A wish for our precious parents
who seem to be ignorant, rather helpful.....""
I love you, I love you, I love you forever dear..."

The response was totaly unexpected as Vidya stood out of the crowd, clapping with all her might and tears flowing full speed from her eyes.At last it was the result of the display. When the judge came to give his speech about his separation from his son on account of the Bhuj disaster, it took the breath out of me.

HE WAS MY FATHER!!!

I was both happy and sick on knowing that such a man could have been a father to me. I learnt from the speech that he had another son(my brother). I decided not to share his love with my brother and not to expose myself to thim that I was his son.

The result was a surprise too the crowd but it wasn't to me, as the judge was biased with the sour incident on the road with me. Vidya bagged the first prize, with me getting the second prize. There was a hushed silence in the crowd, folowed by an even louder protest. After all had ended, I started to exit the hall, with the prize money of 10,000(second prize), when Vidya met me.

The fire of love was ablaze again in her eyes and she hugged him with all her might and held on to him for quite some time, in the presence of others. Her tears wet his neck and the love, his heart. She handed over the prize to him and whispered, "You need it more than I do... Take it Vijay....Love you loads...."

I entered the auditorium singly and exited it couply with Vidya, being the happiest man on the whole wide world. After all the trouble I went, I gave the 10,000 to Maria and Tara, which brought a smile to their parents. I took the 15,000 from Vidya, and deposited a part of it on the way in the bank, and used the rest to meet the debts.

The incident robbed a day off my IIT preps, but it gave me the much needed money, my girl back to me, and reignited the pain of suffering that became intense due to meeting my father.Looking at the Logarithm paper, which suddenly looked more attractive than Vidya, I started to attack the sums...