Indian Ameri

Don't know how hypnotic I got into the transition mode, a single nostalgic moment outlined by my funny roomie time machined me right into some of the most interesting moments I shared with my elder brother. A dashing sibling paired cycle race with one of his classmate and his younger brother going all wrong with my foot being caught in the rear spokes ovaled me right into our street fight with a group of rogues who pushed me on the basketball court. A follow up of the summer sports camp our dad forced us into which we huffed and puffed just to get mom's awesome secret ingredient added watermelon kicker, I kicking his balls (for real) over a struggle we started as a fun event at the movie theatre, reeling immediately into both of us running wildly in the park at 11 pm stretching our hands after open air theatre premire of "The rocketman", mom eventually knuckling both of us into the shared bedroom. The three pillow theatre we builded and narrated action stories with two glow bugs bought from Bombay, 1 GI Joe action figure gifted by our distant uncle and a sewing machine button knob which we always imagined as a mini tank (Oh yeah! I used a rubber band for the glowbugs to consider them as bows with sewing needles as arrows). Obviously dad yelling from his room to make us immediately go frenzy with the set up and act as if asleep and answer to moms pleading query that "Yes mom! We are asleep" as a joke.

I still remember the day when my bro answered "Tirupathi" as mom asked the GK question "Which city is called as the city of seven hills?" and I go panting for my life coz I laughed so much on the level of smartness my brother exhuberated (Edukondaluvaada/Ezhu Malayaan - if you can't get the joke, I'm sorry! It's hard and very funny to explain). Even now the joke is shared in the Chirra family as someone goes to Tirupathi. I finding out his interests in a particular girl and relentlessly torturing him to do me favors as blackmail (which he never did perfect and got me into more trouble). Our attempts to break the gymkhanas garage lock to recover my first crush's bicycle. My attempts to coach his left hand style batting after which he lost interest in cricket and has continued to stick to his policy of not touching the cricket bat. The broad shoulder a'hole hits the tennis ball like sh***. He can clear 12 floors in a single whack (and I coached him to have control over his ball losing shots :D ).

Of course, how can I forget the way he was very good to keep me his cute innocent younger bro by watching porn secretly :D, and I somehow always figuring a way to find the truth (and at the early days inform mom/dad about it and get him scrutinized) and eventually he finding the truth that I wasn't so innocent after all and rightfully complained to mom (after which dad became a better friend). The secret conversations we shared during his off family early college days about his attempts to go Eureka with his mechanical engg degree. And then of nowhere a certain distance started between us and grew faster than I could even imagine. Then, the very few years I spent with him in Madras during a tough phase as mom fell sick to a momentous 7 year arthritis. His survival on dads dry chapathis while he passed the extra bread omelette from his lunch box. The scooter he decided to teach me as a birthday gift, which I intentionally used to throw him on the road with a raised first gear, my constant yelling at him to concentrate his eyes on the road in front of him and forget the chick whom we just passed, his clenching fingers on my shoulders as I zipped through heavy traffic, his habit to leave me unguarded in the rush/empty bus as he felt the swooshing Madras air hanging on the bus steps, the Madras he mapped me with only theatres (and at times with pubs), Shankar Chat Bhel and Pani puris we never missed in Anna Nagar, the skating shoes we stole from a rich kid and fell like umpteen times mastering the art of roller skating (and resistance to ass pain) in the beach (hey we had our reasons to steal :D ), the wink he gave me as dad yelled at him for getting his arrears in Heat Transfer, his three rules to any tool related work which I still use as a key element to repair most of my mechanical/electrical/computer problems (patent application pending :D ), and eventually the final few months before his US trip at which he fell silent to the soon departing incident. Then things changed, life changed, he changed, and I too changed.

In the past 8 years, many things happened, but none excites me as interesting as the past we shared as kids. I know deep inside he cares, the kid exists, the fun and fighting we made defines us. But, somehow today, as my roomie described an event with his elder sis, I understood that I am giving the same silent departed feeling to my brother, he gave me months before he left to the States. He never called me before to his house for a weekend, but he did this week. And for no reason I rejected the offer. He reads my face far better than mom and dad added together. It's better things stay unknown. Huh! I'm smiling unbelievably smug as I write this statement. How sick can my mind be now? Oasis' I'm Outta Time plays as the background as the rain trickles heavily on my air conditioning equipment. Guess the atmosphere asks me to stop continuing the post or even proof read it....... I'm outta time by a century at least...... "Attempts to stay chirpy is pecked beakish" F*** the phases of life.....