Brother

I was jealous when he came.
All attention of my parents was stolen from me.
I never had much in the first place.
I had hundreds of worldly things to compete with anyways.
I went to the hospital. I do not remember much but do remember looking at him.
He was cute and naked.
A lot naked.
He loved wearing the long tops but refused to wear his bottoms.
Maybe it was hot.
I hardly have a photograph of my own since then.
He was always there.
Either in my lap where I made an effort to conceal his dignity...
Or hugging me where I concealed the toffees he was eating.
We faught a lot. We scratched, hit, kicked.
He even tried WWE on me.
He would eat his share of goodies and would beg, borrow and steal mine.
He would tease me till I got angry or cried.
He would not care about me at all.
My grandfather told me to not fight with him.
Later I got to know that he told him the same thing about me.
Cute.
He would not follow the advice for a minute though.
He would get in trouble.
If possible, I would try and save him.
I would not deliberately tell on him.
I loved peace and quiet more than I loved him.
Sometimes, I would complain and quite a lot.
He would be scolded.
He would be meaner to me.
He would wake me up so that I would finish his homework.
I would help him with all the art stuff.
All the time.
He still comes to me for all the tasks he finds boaring.
He hates to admit any of this.
He hates to admit that somewhere he still looks up to me when in trouble.

We never grew up to be friends.
Still, I was the person who told him all about
periods, sexual intercourse, pregnency and a lot of stuff about women.
He will never admit that he turns to me when he gets stuck
Or worse, frustrated.

I know he does not love me.
I have accepted that long ago.
We are like the fighting duo.
But then there are moments...
Like dropping me off to the railway station for my solo trip
Concern about me wearing a dress that might show some cleavage
Ensuring me that he would beat the guy who would hurt me looking at a schene on television
Looking at me when I cry watching stuff on my laptop...

My dear brother would never admit that he does care.
Neither would he accept that I would want to be there for him no matter what.
Telling this does not help much.
I wonder when he would realize.
Then, the better part of me responds
In his own sweet time <3

Maybe

Slowly and gradually
That shadow creeps in
Of forgetting and moving on
Of some form of coping
Of change
Of healing
Of composure
Of freedom supposedly
But it does not feel like
You have forgotten
Or coped
Or changed
Or healed
Or composed
Or set free
Then you realise
Maybe something is missing
Maybe foregiveness
Maybe love
Then, for a brief moment
There is relief
Of finding the answer
It passes away
The relief I mean
Then you decide to guess
Guess as hard as you can
To find that something
Someday
Somewhere
Anywhere
Sitting right there
All awake
You realise
You forgot, you somehow coped, changed, healed a little, composed a bit and may have been a comparitively free
You are not thinking about that anymore
You are busy guessing
Then you tell yourself
Ya... maybe