It's not that I don't remember him at other times. I do, often. But every year, without fail, the beginning of the year is laced with these whole set of thoughts that come unbidden. And the tears that fall, each drop more annoying than the other.
Being two sisters, with pre-occupied and very busy parents, we soaked up affection where we found it. At least I did. My big bear of a cousin was my favourite person ever for a long time. He was a bit scary, especially given that I was used to the smooth overly shaven cheeks of my well-groomed dad and grand-dad and the rebel beard was edgy, strange, and outright weird.
He taught us many tricks. With a few deft strokes he drew these awesome line drawings. He constantly conned various other cousins into believing in what he called "Magic" - later explaining to me that he did that only because they were annoying. He worshipped the ground my mother walked on and was given to many tantrums big and small.
Sometimes when I see my daughter dismantle things - oh yes, she is a big dismantler - of pens, mostly, but also whatever else she can manage, without tools - I cannot help admire how this incomprehensible life & genes thing happens. This guy, he would take apart mixies, TVs, radios, whatever he could. And never bothered to assemble them back, losing interest, feigning anger.
It's been so many many years since I had much to do with him. I don't know - things could have been different - for sure. He was a sensitive person under all that machismo. I have so many special moments with friends, and people I love, I try to cherish these. 'Cause it's so swift - fate's hand - one minute you are making bhindi sambar and the next one - poof.
Missing, even in a gut-wrenching, given to break into tears manner, is hardly it. Losing a part of you - that believed in mischief and doing things on your own terms - maybe even being a stereotypical teenager for however long life lets you - yes that sums it up. My personality is so far removed from his that it's virtually impossible that I can understand what made him live, what made him die.
In a few days from now, on the 15th to be precise, his birthday rolls around. When he was alive, I would think, hey, its my anna's birthday today. And move on. Now that that option is off the table, I wish I could just once, make a call, write an email, send a text message, something, just to say 'Happy Birthday' ...
Being two sisters, with pre-occupied and very busy parents, we soaked up affection where we found it. At least I did. My big bear of a cousin was my favourite person ever for a long time. He was a bit scary, especially given that I was used to the smooth overly shaven cheeks of my well-groomed dad and grand-dad and the rebel beard was edgy, strange, and outright weird.
He taught us many tricks. With a few deft strokes he drew these awesome line drawings. He constantly conned various other cousins into believing in what he called "Magic" - later explaining to me that he did that only because they were annoying. He worshipped the ground my mother walked on and was given to many tantrums big and small.
Sometimes when I see my daughter dismantle things - oh yes, she is a big dismantler - of pens, mostly, but also whatever else she can manage, without tools - I cannot help admire how this incomprehensible life & genes thing happens. This guy, he would take apart mixies, TVs, radios, whatever he could. And never bothered to assemble them back, losing interest, feigning anger.
It's been so many many years since I had much to do with him. I don't know - things could have been different - for sure. He was a sensitive person under all that machismo. I have so many special moments with friends, and people I love, I try to cherish these. 'Cause it's so swift - fate's hand - one minute you are making bhindi sambar and the next one - poof.
Missing, even in a gut-wrenching, given to break into tears manner, is hardly it. Losing a part of you - that believed in mischief and doing things on your own terms - maybe even being a stereotypical teenager for however long life lets you - yes that sums it up. My personality is so far removed from his that it's virtually impossible that I can understand what made him live, what made him die.
In a few days from now, on the 15th to be precise, his birthday rolls around. When he was alive, I would think, hey, its my anna's birthday today. And move on. Now that that option is off the table, I wish I could just once, make a call, write an email, send a text message, something, just to say 'Happy Birthday' ...
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