Bade Bhai Sahab (The Brother): Part 1

My revered elder brother had the privilege of being five years ahead by birth, but the same did not extend when it came to the standard hierarchy of grades in our school, as he was only three grades ahead. Not that he had begun his illustrious career any later than me; I was told that in matters of such grievous importance as primary education, he was a firm believer in consolidation, not reckless haste. He never moved forward in the system unless the ever-so-important base was satisfactorily consolidated, even if it meant two or three years in the same grade: a small price to pay for a rigid foundation.

I was the younger one, which naturally meant that the word of the elder brother was law and the essential regulation of my interests fell under his purview. It was also implicit that I was to follow his habits and actions that were the unquestionable path to glory. For me, his enormous will to study for extended periods of time was part scary and part intriguing. Following my curiosity, I had more than once poured into his notebooks that were his principal companions during his unending study hours. In the blank recesses of the notebooks I had often noticed peculiar drawings of birds, animals, humans and what not. It also had its fair share of gibberish along the drawings that my naïve fifth grade brain could hardly comprehend.

Contrary to following my elder’s footsteps, I was the proverbial negligent when it came to academics. Sensing the smallest window of opportunity I always managed to sneak out of the hostel premises and engage in all sorts of inconsequential activities like flying paper butterflies, gauging our rock throwing strengths. The terror and neglect of studies was such that any stupid act that did not involve the annoying flutter of book pages was aesthetic in its appeal. This was perhaps the only explanation I can think of when I vaguely remember riding on hinged gates swinging in quarter circles, jumping off not so high boundary walls and endless gazing of the passing vehicles. The inevitable return to the hostel from the wonderland always resulted in an equally inevitable and dreaded confrontation with the elder brother. His question, as I vividly remember, was concise and always the same: “Where have you been the whole day?” My reaction, again the same always, was to freeze in silence. Now that I think of it, a short reply that I had just been playing outside with my friends would have been true and with minimum self-implication. But, either in the dilemma of the answer diplomacy or just pure fear, all I did was just freeze. My hung head avoiding his questioning yet all-knowing eyes was the most comfortably acquired admission of guilt for him and in the celebration of his mature triumph, I was dosed with a well-structured discourse on wide range of topics, both relevant and irrelevant to academics.

“Is this the way you will be learning English? We in the higher grades have to burn our eyes in lamp oil, only to be just vaguely familiar with the language. Even the towering scholars of this language have not still been able to grasp its perplexity. Do you know that many of the British, who are supposed to converse normally in this language, are still not versed in speaking grammatically flawless English? You seem to be taking this study business all too easy. Do you learn nothing from me? I study virtually all day, avoiding any distractions like sports, fun fairs and all sorts of appealing time wasters. There are hockey and cricket matches nearly every day. Do you think I don’t want to enjoy all these? But still I have to remain in the same grade for two to three years every time: that’s how hard it is. And you candidly believe that you can pass with this attitude? You might probably end up in the same grade for the whole life. Better than ruining your own life and father’s hard earned money here, you should go back home and enjoy gully-danda (a traditional Indian game).”

The effect being twice more stingy when directed at you in close proximity, my eyes instantly let go of the tear dam, as I had no plausible answers to such scathing verbal castigation. I was a defaulter, no doubt but a nine year old hardly has the skin for such calculated attacks. Now that I think of it, he was uncannily skilled in the art of “the talks”. His words laced with naturally occurring acids were quite effective in their desired outcome. The first stage of my healing process was always dark despair, where I used to think: why not go back, why waste my life in a task that is clearly beyond me. I was satisfied to remain a rural ignorant but to suffer with such diligent studies was unfathomable. But in an hour or so, the black clouds of hopelessness gave way for strong willed determination of studies from the moment itself. But a task so significant also required adequate planning, thus a detailed timetable was carefully prepared. The whole evening after the talk was dedicated to the timetable in which the only timings that did not involve study were sleep, a healthy walk and realistic times allotted for the non-significant chores like eating, bathing, etc. But the formulation of a knee-jerk timetable and scrupulous adherence are not very similar things. The deviations would start on a small scale, with everything that was not mentioned in the timetable appearing so aesthetic. The greenery and breeze of the open playing grounds, the appeal of completely losing yourself to the build-up play of football were too charming for someone like me to resist. And to compound this desire, taking the higher road meant a painstaking process of studying mathematics from eight to nine in the morning, followed by the endless abyss of history, geography and most importantly English throughout the day. However, this pleasure of defiance by avoidance was accompanied by the knowledge of its short life span, as the elder brother’s trigger happy attitude towards defaulters was always lurking back somewhere in the mind. Nevertheless, as a human clings on to the worldly attachments even in the face of death or difficulty, it gradually became impossible to let go of fun despite the inevitability of the talk.