Yesterday was a page straight out of some comics book...but first things first.
I went into a strange mood after the last entry. Felt as if I have nobody in my world. Here I know people who are enjoying every moment of their lives, as if they are having a marathon of parties, and are mobbed by friends, and here I am, living in an island as if. I kept crying, kept listening to songs, and finally fell asleep. For once I spared myself from reading on those awful psycho story books.
Work was hectic and meaningless as usual. When I finally reached the car, dad was inside and on the phone. It was a cousin brother from my messed up family, in fact my favorite brother after the one that died, but I have willed myself not to remember any of that. I had this well made up frown on my face, as if accusing dad - why do you need to speak to people who appear once in a blue moon? Dad of course couldn't see me in the dark and happily kept on giving directions to our home...and then he gave the phone to me. It was my uncle, after more than a year. And he, the eighty year old gentleman, gave such a hearty laugh on hearing my voice, that I had this realization for a moment that even I can be this precious to someone.
The brother episode turned out to be the perfect eye popping event. Me and the girl in my team often behave like cartoon characters to show our surprise...as if our eyes are popping out. Last Monday, it seems some elderly professor commented - "ok, so it was her birthday yesterday, that must be the reason why she was looking different today, she was looking so pretty..." - she heard this and couldn't wait to tell me, and in no time we were doing our eye pop act and laughing aloud...
So then my cousin brother came up. Dad took the car and fetched him from the bus stop, and I willed myself to act a bit. I bent to touch his feet, and he was like...you need to get married to do that...and then he went on to reminisce...how long would it be? We both agreed on 20 years. He's met my parents several times in between, but not me. The memories got stifled. Memories of his tall profile as he stooped to enter through the door, he running his bike with lightening speed as I clung on to him for dear life, the hero of my childhood. And then the eye popping moments started. Somewhere in the back of my mind, rested the fact that I have a brother who's a big shot in the army. I let it rest well, like I do with most of my relatives. How does it matter that I have illustrious relatives? I have a sister who's a top academician in the state, but nobody knows about that and we are not in touch, even though we work in the same university campus. Yes, I have that kind of a mental block.
The brother settled down on a chair, (we still don't have a sofa...I am planning to delegate the interior decoration to a colleague) and we offered coffee. He refused and as if he's just casually mentioning it, he said he's a cancer patient, so he has a lot of food restrictions. Dad just stretched out his hand to touch him, and there was a tumor on his back. He showed his bullet wounds, the operation marks on his spinal cord, talked about a spoiled liver and having undergone a bypass surgery, and don't be mistaken, he never seemed to be complaining about these things. He was speaking as if these are regular things in life.
It was the house I grew up in. A house which is locked up now and being contested for valid ownership in the court. The same house where this same brother once told me, you can argue very well, you should have been a lawyer. I never told him that protesting against wrongdoing has become a way of my life. And now as I sat there listening to him, I understood how it's the same blood flowing through our veins, the same respect for God and the same hatred and disgust for negative things. And then the comic strip moments started. I have a brother who's a top guy in the army doesn't matter to me. I have a brother who has killed 14 terrorists by slicing open their neck in public view does seem like something. And if this same person is a cancer survivor then it matters all the more...I vaguely remember going to sleep in my childhood thinking about his brave deeds, the Mast Gul attack where he was a part of the team, and he'd seen his batch mate being shot to death beside him...
Suddenly happiness welled up inside me. He said he needed a cigarette. "Are you permitted to smoke?", I asked. "No, but I am very happy today", he said...and I walked with him on his way to the bus stop without caring a fig for the acrid smoke of nicotine. The bus had come, but he decided to touch the feet of my dad yet another time...so the bus started moving. He did this army acrobat and jumped onto the stairs of the speeding bus. My superman brother :)
I finally met the lady doctor who comes and feeds the strays in our locality. Have been hearing about her from my neighbor, met her today. She looked angelic as we exchanged notes about our fondness for dogs...
So, in hindsight, I have a dysfunctional family and quite a dysfunctional life, that's true. But I am still connected in a remote way to that family, we have the same values and the same never say die attitude, even when we are almost dead, is also a fact. That I keep meeting good people in life is another fact. That I can probably go on waiting for that person whom I once called my best friend, and if we ever meet one more time in this life, if I happen to walk with him, the nicotine smoke would fail to bother me once again, might turn out to be a fact as well...
We, all of us, live in our own islands...lonely lost islands...but that shouldn't stop us from being hopeful...
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