I was born in one little corner of the world. It soon became my world. I was a shy kid who always used to smile regardless of the circumstances. I was very calm, quiet and innocent for the ones not so close and mischievous for the dear ones.
My home was my battlefield and my brother, my rival. We fought for the care and attention from mom. That, in fact, was not my concern. Most of our relatives, neighbors and friends found him smarter than me. They often proclaimed it in groups and this was a SUPREME INSULT for me. They thought I was a dumbass who never talked, but smiled. My brother was a social animal and enjoyed the highest degree of popularity among family and friends. My mom thought he was tidy and clean, and I, a complete menace. I jumped over the bed with soiled feet. I always spilled liquid food on the floor and splashed water from the faucet after brushing my teeth. I cannot tell you how my mom hated wet floor.
He participated in almost all sports events in school and won many prizes as well. My only achievement was that I was part of the theatre in school. I still remember doing the role of “Salvation” who rescued people from the pit of sins. However, that did not make me popular in school. With the heavy make up and weird costumes, I don’t think someone even recognized me. He had a very nice handwriting, I didn’t. I was glad that at least in studies; he was an average student just like me.
He started earning when he was just 12 years old. His business spread across various fields including, but not limited to philately, numismatics, aquaculture, rabbit breeding etc. The secret behind his success was that he was really passionate about whatever he did. My dad was so proud when he bought a bike (bicycle) with the money he saved. He was good at saving, I was good at spending.
I had a habit of sleeping while eating. Sometimes, I used to doze off right into the plate filled with food. He always had a sense of duty to make sure that he lifted my head from the plate (holding my hair) and plunged it on to the part of the plate where my mom had served the ‘curry’. I would wake up with an earsplitting shriek. My face would be covered with a thick layer of gravy, burning eyes, blurred vision, an absolutely filled nose and partially filled lungs. I thought of numerous ways to slaughter him. But, neither did I have the courage nor strength to deal with him physically.
“Every little dog has its day”. One fine day, my mom made a special preparation of rice and mutton similar to ‘Biriyani’. I like less spicy and less oily food in spite of the fact that I am a south Indian. I often demanded such customized delicacies. She didn’t mind as long as I devoured every bit of it. There were not many fans for these custom foods at home. My brother loved spicy food; when I say spicy, I mean it.. So spicy, that the bloody tissue would catch fire. That probably might be the reason for my affinity towards non-spicy food.
White Biriyani (please suggest a better name if you have one) was ready. I prepared myself to pamper my taste buds with this yummy food.It was hot. I dug the plate in search of mutton pieces. I felt the mutton pieces were playing hide and seek. Gotcha!!! One fine piece of mutton. I threw it into my mouth. It was not my typical non-spicy kind of a piece. It disclosed a woman’s immense affection towards her elder son. “Make sure that you don’t swallow the food till you have chewed it 32 times”, I remembered my granny. I counted. 32, 33, 47, 62 89. I gave up. I kept back the piece into the plate. I do not know what a piece of mutton that was! How much ever one chewed, it would still remain in tact. I was about to throw it when my brother came in running after his playground routine. I was sure he would place his dirty hand on my plate. I covered all the other mutton pieces nicely and kept that special piece in a way that would grab his attention. I had guessed it right!!“MOM!!! How have you prepared mutton??? No salt, no spice, NOTHING!!!”, he roared. Mom was surprised. “Are you crazy??? How spicy do you want me to make it??”. I ran to the toilet. I didn’t have the guts to laugh in front of him. How could someone expect a mutton piece, that was chewed 89 times, to be spicy??? I laughed my head off.
We both shared the common interest in traveling. Probably for the same reason, we became very close as we grew young. We traveled throughout south India on a very frequent basis. We became more of friends than brothers. We used to talk about all those witty things and laughed so hard that food came out of our noses. He was my ATM when I went to Bangalore to pursue my studies. He bought me branded apparel, an expensive cellphone (which was stolen 3 months later in a BMTC bus on my way to college) and provided me with pocket money which made me popular in college. He is happily married now. I thought that would change his attitude, but it didn’t.
“The face, structure and life style of Cochin is changing rapidly”, my brother said. That was really strange. We never discussed such topics. “Great news!!! So what??”. “The government is initiating a flyover project which would run right over our house.” “A FLYOVER??? I do not want to stay under a flyover!!!” “Nor does the government”, he said with a smile. I got it. I am not gonna find my home where it was. This news hit me hard. I can never be home wherever I find myself.
