Happy 40th to my sibling teacher

 

He doesn't look 40, does he?

A couple of years ago, I picked up a renowned book by Mark Manson, The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck. I realized after going through the first few pages, that the book didn’t really offer anything new to me, courtesy my sibling teacher, my brother. What the book tried to teach in logic and words, my brother had taught me all along through practical demonstration. Almost all the good habits I have internalized so far, are owed to him. On his 40^th, it’s about time I pay my gratitude in ink.

Let’s start with my first life lesson: Abandon labels

In the 80s, even with limited access to TV for children of my generation, Bollywood faces were household names. Among them was the lesser known singer and widely popular actor-comedian, Tuntun. In those days, Tuntun was synonymous with overweight bubbly women. As the heaviest among three siblings, never mind that I was just five, brother chose to christen me Tuntun.

It didn’t take any ceremony for the name to stick. Clubbed by brother’s earnest efforts and my own chubbiness, the monicker travelled. Tuntun was everywhere. On my class books, right next to my name. Sonal Singh ‘Tuntun’. On the walls of our home, ‘Tuntun’ appeared without a word of warning. Even the wooden dividers of our bookshelf bore scratches made from compass needle, reading Tuntun. It was ingenuous how Bhai found a way to write Tuntun everywhere, making it barely visible to others, though monstrously noticeable to me. Looking back, I give him full score on sharply targeted marketing.

I went after pencil marks with an eraser; brother turned them into pen marks. I started tearing portions from the name labels, only to find Tuntun written on all inside pages. I attached the scratches with a camouflage plan, but more scratches emerged. The angrier I felt, the more snug he grew. At the mercy of terrible sweet tooth, I started having dreams. Dreams in which I was floating in a sea of gems and eating them endlessly, WITHOUT getting fat. Dreams in which I was swimming in a sea of chocolate, and drinking chocolate like water, WITHOUT getting fat. The settings changed, but two things remained constant – my eating sweets, and not getting fat.  

(Never mind the fact that I often overate all meals because brother slipped half his share into mine. Half the time, I didn’t notice. When I did, he begged me with such a grimace, that I caved in. He knew my weakness, I didn’t.)

Today, I remember being so agonized by that label that eventually…it stopped to matter! In hindsight, it was he who initiated me into the four phases of coping, starting with shock and anger, and ending with acceptance and recovery. If today, I don’t give two hoots to any label any one would like to attach to me, it’s thanks to brother. 

Now let’s come to my next lesson: Relinquish desire

In the movie Chak De India, SRK told the rebellious Bindiya Nayak loud and clear – Har team mein sirf ek gunda ho sakta hai, aur is team ka gunda main hun.

Not in these many words, but with exactly the same sentiment, bhaiya ruled the roost. If we were playing cricket, he would take the strike. If we were competing in running, we’d do the distance he decided. If the view was divided on which game to play, his choice reigned. If play rules were vague, he got to conclude. His word was final, period.

Why did I have to take his bossing around, you’d ask. The answer was simple – because I wanted to play, and because might is right. Any disagreement inevitably led to a dogfight, and in every physical fight, I emerged far more bruised than he. Sometimes I bit him so hard I thought I might end up with his hand’s flesh in my mouth! He returned the favour by clasping my neck in an elbow grip, and dragging me on the road like they do in violent movies. All this was, of course, away from parental glare. Helicopter parenting was not in fashion those days (thank god for that).

It’s only after several such life-threatening encounters that I realized I had a power. Tentatively, but clearly, I decided to put it to use. I simply stopped playing. And I managed to do it with such perfect equanimity that bro had to be reduced to ridiculous tears and abject begging to convince me to play.

Imagine learning this lesson at that tender age. That your only weakness is your expectation from other people. Give that up, and you can live cool as cucumber. In fact, that might even lead to proud cats purring back to seek your attention. By handing over that hard-earned power realization to me, Bhai made me a lady and gentleman, rolled into one.

Now let’s come to my next and probably most useful lesson: Self contentment

As children, our biggest ask was to watch TV. We were among the early birds in our colony to possess one. The idiot box was a gateway to places and ideas in the world, to the detective world of Byomkesh Bakshi, to the animated happy zone of ‘ek chidiya, anek chidiya’, and to the roaring happiness of Jaspal Bhatti’s Flop Show. Didi, bhaiya, and I could remain glued to TV for hours on end, like all children do. I don’t think anything else had captivated my attention like the TV did.

With his sixth sense of hitting where it hurts the most, brother hijacked the remote control. Again, there was not getting around it, because might is right, and injury hurts, remember? Little did I know that this was a blessing in disguise.

In order to give up the desire to watch TV, I started drawing. I laid my hands on any cartoon character I could find, and started copying them on rough pages. It’s thanks to those times, that even today, I draw birthday cards for loved ones. The release from TV was phenomenal. I realized I could do so much more with my time. Like read and memorize poetry and songs I loved. Read stories, which served the same purpose as watching TV, in a much deeper way. Weave stories in my head, and sit and visualize for hours. With the TV robbed off its allure, I was all by myself, and loving the peace it offered.

Years later, I would read Kabir’s couplet – Chaah miti chinta miti, manwa beparwaah, jisko kuchh nahin chaahiye, wohi shehenshah – and thank brother for getting me a semblance of contentment.

Don't be fooled by the cute looks of this boy on right, he's vexation incarnate

As the last point of this paean to my brother, I come to the most enduring lesson: Live and Let Live

I don’t remember any term of endearment Bhai would have used for me, or for anyone else. His way of showing affection, at best, was to tease the subject in harmless ways. But if there was one thing Bhai could establish a global benchmark in – it was in upholding the principle of live and let live.

There is an aphorism by Oscar Wilde that reads, “I may not agree with you, but I will defend to the death your right to make an ass of yourself.” Bhai swore by it.

If anyone in the family tried to impose their version of right on anyone else, it sparked a rebellion in the heart of my brother. He protested out and aloud. He stuck to it like his life’s calling – to overthrow dictatorship of any kind.

He questioned every ritual that came in our way. He defied traditions that didn’t make sense to him. Even when Papa glowered at him (which was enough to crumble me to pieces), he stood ground and took blows with the pride of a righteous soldier. Even better, he voiced his thoughts, knowing he would get another thrashing for that. I can never forget the figure of my brother, barely 8 or so, standing chin-up against my imposing father, challenging his notions like it was nobody’s business. As though fear never dwelt in his heart.

What really impressed me was the difference between him and other mere mortals like me. The same fire would burn our hearts, the same argument would lace our tongues, but we could never muster the courage to speak them out. Or maybe we were too tamed with the notion of politeness and what not. Bhai followed Einstein. Einstein had said, ‘if you are out to describe the truth, leave elegance to the tailor.’

His knack for speaking the unalloyed truth came from his courage. And God knows, while the likes of me have learnt it, he was born with it!

If grandma dared to play by the saas code with my mom, Bhai rose all hell in confrontation. Both through contemptuous anger and vicious mockery, he safeguarded mom from any lousy expectation from her in laws. His script was terse, and often generously studded with swear words.

If mom tried to exercise ‘control’ over him or anyone else in the house, he lashed out at her with the same tenacity with which he would protect her.

If anyone in the family ever tried to remind him his brotherly business of safeguarding the honor of his sisters, he gave them a piece of mind because it was stupid to breed dependence and then expect your sisters to be truly independent at the same time. He extended the favour and the flavor to his bride when he got her home.

As long as everybody was minding their own business without making anyone else uncomfortable due to personal hang-ups, Bhai was a happy man, and cracked enough jokes to keep everyone amused. But if anyone dared to ruffle unnecessary feathers…the God of Divine Justice would rise his bile in my brother’s body, and a bloody fight for democracy would ensue until it was re-established. How can one ever place enough Gratitude for having one such member in one’s home?

…………………………………..

On his 40^th birthday today, I have to admit that if I have most missed someone after marriage, especially in trying moments, it has been my brother. I have missed that one person who could stand against all world and vehemently state – just let her be.

Brother, your physical presence is enough to guarantee daily mini revolutions from inane traditions and deep-rooted expectations. You don’t know how much this means, particularly in its absence. The only thing that makes up for your absence is your presence, because your annoying nature is enough to teach all the qualities I listed above. I hope your wife and daughters find strength from you, and to survive you, the way I did ;)

Happy birthday bhaiya. Live long and strong, for we all need you. More power and love to the badass in you. May the Gods rejoice in you.