Blood brother (உடன்பிறப்பு)

உடன்பிறப்பு அவனுந்தாண்

ஆனால் உன்மயில்

என் உடன் பிறந்தது

என் சிரிப்பு தான்

அதை நான் யாறுக்ககவும்

காவு கொடுக்க மாட்டேன்.

Even if he is my blood brother, the one truly of my blood and born with me is my laughter that I won’t sacrifice for anyone.

Weep

I weep for not being close to or attentive to my parents. They are in their seventies. I can’t change myself or my attitude towards them, I’ve always taken them for granted. It is not to say they petted and pampered me. I used to rebel always and try to get my way. They are old and not like they used to be, now in their old age. I can feel their old age in my bones. They seem to be content in their retired selves. They rely on my brother for support when needed yet it is rare.

When I come out of my room to dine watching television my dad joins me. He dissects and discusses the news with me and at times I don’t even feign interest. My mom calls me often in a day, like really a lot. Some days if not for her calls I might not have received any call. Is it them craving for attention or is it me craving their company due to my solitude. I can’t and don’t know how to express my affection towards them. For if I start to change my attitude towards them it might feel strange. They are light years ahead of their departure and why think of it now. At least that is what I feel. Yet I want those light years to mean something.

I can’t co exist with my brother. We tend to fight always. If not for mediation of my parents there would have been a violent ruckus between him and me. Even as it is there is a ruckus. Blessed by god we have ample money for our needs. They insist on a business and me working on it not for the money. They want me to be engaged and they don’t consider me sitting all day long before a computer writing, as being engaged. But I don’t want the business and want writing. I want freedom to roam far and wide that can’t be because of my psychiatric condition. I just realised that a tour with my family, my parents and brother might feel good. But I resist even the little sojourns out of our house as I can’t remain without smoking for long. When away from them be it the distance to my room, my love for them grows. Yet when with them there is inevitably quarrel. They try to coax me in to changing my wayward behaviour. But I am set in my habits and can’t change.

I don’t shave by myself and often times have an ugly stubble. I wear the same old dress repeatedly. I don’t do simple errands. All these cause great fights as they criticise and try to change my ways. It still takes my mom a lot of coaxing to bring me to the dining table and have my meals. I thought of writing a poem but prose or poem words don’t suffice to express my emotions now. Every parent all over the world are mostly thus caring and loving towards their children. But in the west especially the parents learn to let go of their kids to seek their own lives. Not all kids are like me unresponsive and not reciprocating. An eminent hand would have drawn a novel out of this by now. Here I am rambling about a novel and not appreciative of what I have going here.

I am being hounded for my being wayward. I must first convince my family that I am responsible. Then I must have a bigger say in things. My brother claims I am not yet an adult. Though it angers me it is true. Watching adult movies alone can’t make a person an adult. Yet he is the one confining me at every step. For to be an adult or not, whatever it is I have to do it in my own terms. Soon somehow I must convince one and all that I am my own man free and responsible. I shall then seek to spend time with my parents and my family which includes my brother. If I am successful in some sphere then all my worries and little inconveniences and inconsistencies will be forgotten. That is part of the reason I seek fame and success. For with it I can be closer to my family and make them worry less. Even if they don’t I think they feel I have never risen to my full potential. To succeed before their eyes what joy and reward. I do all things I do waiting for that moment of epiphany.

My overbearing

My brother has been a caretaker and caregiver for me for quite some time. Though I heed not him or my parents. I am my own rebellious self doing as I wished and pleased. My life may turn in to shambles but I would have it that it did on my own terms. I need a mentor, a new direction and more. I am submitting myself to this blog.

My overbearing bossy brother sighed and said

Oh, ye blog I wash my hands and give him over on to your care

watch and guide him to happiness till he lives.

The Sea Beckons 2 – The Caretaker / Brother

Vishnu tiredly climbed the stairs to reach the third floor with his laptop bag over his shoulders. It was almost 7 ‘o’ clock. His client meeting had gone well. He had been traversing through the irritating Bangalore traffic for more than an hour. He was 41 years old and in the process of getting a divorce. His younger brother Velan was 37 and unmarried. Velan had little chances of being married in the condition he was in mused Vishnu.

He opened the door to his very small two room apartment and placed the laptop bag on the floor. He was juggling two jobs at once. One was as a businessman in his hometown and the other was a job as a sales and liaison guy in Bangalore for a small asset management firm that his cousin ran from Madras.

He received a phone call from his friend in Tuticorin port trust informing that his brother Velan was in a confused and inebriated state in the port. Krishna thanked his friend and called his family’s business partner Sridhar asking him to take Velan from the port to the Psychiatrist or shrink in the neighbouring town Tirunelveli. He asked him to admit Velan in a hospital. He knew trains were out of question in the last minute and decided to catch  a bus, any bus that would take him to his hometown.

The news pained Vishnu a lot. Despite this being an almost frequent occurrence now he could never get used to it. It pained for him to see his normally intelligent and active brother in his affected state. Velan showed no signs of relapsing the last time Vishnu met Velan. They were in the process of setting up a small restaurant for Velan in Tuticorin. Vishnu and Velan fought a lot. He knew he tried to boss around Velan but Velan was not someone who submits to being pushed around. Velan might be pigheaded, indifferent, irresponsible and uncaring but yet Velan was his brother.

Vishnu had suffered a lot in the process of separation from his wife. No one supported his move to divorce especially his father who vehemently opposed it. Everyone took the side of his wife. At that time he was staying at his home in Tuticorin. When his wife pried open his private stash of greeting cards from his girlfriend long past he knew the marriage was untenable. She had began nagging him and accusing him about it. She was not willing to divorce and his father supported her. That was the time he moved out of his house and joined his cousin’s firm. Now it was ancient story. His almost ex-wife has been sent back to her house and the divorce was almost done with settlement negotiations going on.

He was a partner in a vegetarian restaurant and also more importantly a partner in a very lucrative container freight station in Tuticorin. They had ancestral land worth a few crores now. Money was not the issue for them. He knew Velan got as expense money almost Rs.30,000 each month. He spent almost all of it on cigarettes. He was a chain smoker. If only Velan heeded Vishnu’s words and took charge of his life instead of drifting off like this. He decided he had to be responsible for both himself and Velan. He needed to focus on business and hope to enrol Velan in the process somehow. It irritated him beyond limits that Velan didn’t act like an adult. His primary goal in life was to somehow ensure the safety and security of Velan by making him grow up and handle responsibilities. He packed his travel bag and headed out of the door.

continue to the sea beckons 3

Mom a Cliche

Clichés are hated by all, but the cliche you hate may be a truth for some one else. Mom is some one who loves you truly, understood by all; has been exaggerated to a cliche.

Yet there are times when one remembers the word mom though, as follows

1. One is severely hungry yet is forced to say no to food offered, for formality’s sake.
2. You’ve been morose and silent, but others complain of some behavior wrong in you, you’ll recall how she said the world was wrong while you were right.
3. When your wife says you’re selfish and you remember how your mom said she, your mom was alone selfish, and you later realize what a joke it was.
4. Everyone relies totally on someone near, be it brother, sister, or friend, or even a remote most benevolent god, but all judge your worthiness. In short all is reciprocation, except mom’s care.

There are some who’ve lost a near and dear, some who’ve known this loss that even God can’t fill, but not me who has never known such loss. May be I never will, I’m fortunate that way. This statement is a simple riddle, those keen shall easily infer.