November 21, 2025
Some people know I had/have a brother. A brother who walked out of our lives one morning like he was going to the office like he always did. It’s not like I deliberately hide it but I don’t have any reason to talk about it too. Or maybe I just want to not remember.
Anyway at the end of July, after my poetry class, I wrote this. I was reading some materials shared in class, a book the teacher had mentioned that I found in the library, and this popped out, and then I forgot about it. Yesterday I was talking to a friend and I mentioned it. Today I want to share it. It is a draft and will never be revised/edited.
Untitled (yet?)
The last time I saw my brother he wore a dark
Blue suit. Suits should be light grey, dark grey, black.
Dark blue, Miheer’s favourite colour.
At one time he was my favourite person.
Born twenty months before me,
At one time he was generous and protective,
Giving me half his allowance,
To buy a book I wanted.
He hadn’t told me, that this was the last time,
I’d see him, but I knew. In the way
Bears know that winter,
Is coming, and they need to find a cave
To hibernate. His wife was with him in a gaudy pink silk saree.
Miheer and I hadn’t been speaking,
But I lifted my hand and waved.
He raised his hand too, did he pause,
Probably not. He turned the corner and disappeared.
I rushed the corridor and caught him,
In the lift landing. I hugged him, and he hugged me back.
The elevator dinged and he pried,
His arms from around me and was gone.
I stood still. I stumbled,
into our father’s study, lay down
On the carpet and shook.
There had been an earthquake in Latur few weeks ago.
Next week at Rusi’s, he asked
How are you feeling?
I’m fine, it’s fine, I said.
Minutes later I put down my wine glass and rushed
To his bathroom and puked.
I dreamt that I saw Miheer at an airport.
He was going to New York,
and I to Tokyo. I hid,
behind a pillar and didn’t talk to him.
He is alive somewhere on this earth
But is he still my brother,
If we don’t talk anymore?
Things happen, you grieve. Then more things happen and the old losses are swept away. Better they are I think? Sometimes they creep up. The more you loved someone the more deep the shock.
Is he still my brother?
