Little brother

My friends say “Wow! Your brother is so cute and innocent!”

“Innocent???”, that word makes me die of laughter. Little do they know the cartloads of mischief hidden behind those huge eyes and puffy cheeks.

He annoys me to such an extent that I end up slapping him on his but. Well, that doesn’t make any difference, for he then wriggles himself and dances around me singing “Hit me , Hit me!It doesn’t hurt at all.” What on earth would I do with such a brother? But wait. You haven’t heard the other side of the story yet.

Back in Qatar, my mother had to handle every cat -fight of ours.I was around ten. I loved making fun of his favourite cartoon characters. He would then charge at me like a furious lion, scratching and hitting me . And when I scratch him back, “Mamaaaa”, he would always call out. I would always be the first one to be scolded at. But things changed the next year. I went to a residential school and came back home ,only twice a year. By that time, we had shifted back to India.To my surprise, he never hit me again. Ofcourse , he troubles me a bit but not as much as before.

One day, I asked my mother “Why doesn’t he hit me anymore?” I couldn’t my ears for what she said “The first time you went to a boarding school, was his worst experience. As usual, he came back from school and expected you to jump out from behind the door. Then, he called out your name. But there was no response.He went around checking the curtains, checking your room.He kept calling out your name. “Where is she?”he asked, tears rolling down his cheeks. “She will be back” I replied. He waited and waited. He cried a lot. He did not enter your room for a month.He was in deep sorrow.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks.It has been four years and he still gets depressed when I leave.He will obviously be mischievous when I’m back. When I get angry, he thinks that I hate him.I love him. Maybe,he just doesn’t realise that. Every night, when I can’t fall asleep, I cuddle him up like a teddy bear to make myself more comfortable. When I’m upset, I spend time with him to cheer myself up.

In fact, he turns me into a two year old kid again. We love doing funny things without the knowledge of my parents. We chase each other, stick our tongues out at each other, do all sorts of nonsense. The recent one was just a few days ago. Just before planning to have a nap,

“Can you please switch off the air conditioner?” I insisted.

“Nope.”

“Please…”

“No.”

“Ughhhh”

“Wait, if you’re feeling so cold…” he walked out and appeared with five fluffy pillows and dumped them on me. Then he buried me carefully underneath them. I popped my head out, “Can you take a picture of me like this?”

“Sure”, he replied and clicked a picture on our iPad.

“I am going to sleep now,”he said.

“No!”I sat up with excitement.

An amazing idea had popped into my head.

“Let’s make a tent!”

“With five pillows?” he asked,raising his small eyebrows.

I nodded.

We set to work. It was a comfy little tent without a roof.

“Get Sunny!”, I ordered him.(Sunny has been a faithful soft-toy I’ve had since my childhood)

He ran out and in like a thunderbolt.

In he jumped and the whole tent fell down like Humpty-dumpty .

We burst into laughter like balloons.

“Oi! What’s going on?”, my mother yelled.

“Shh….”I whispered.

We built the tent again but it was too late.

“I will have to go for my tuition”,I sighed.

“Nooo!”, exclaimed my little brother.

“I’m sorry, maybe next time”, with that I left.

How I wish that I could spend more time with him in our little tent.