Moving Memories

As our car halted near the old banyan tree, my mother stepped out first. Her eyes were deep, full of meaning and red, her dry lips making the slightest movements hard to be noticed by the human eyes. Her hands, hanging loose shivered vaguely in the cold wind. A volcano of problems erupted inside her but yet she stood still and silent, her lonely eyes wandering all over in search of something. We all knew what she was looking for. It’s been over 16 years these eyes were probing. We all lost hope but a mother’s love is beyond words. We moved slowly and carefully joining the innumerable crowd visiting the kumbh mela from various places to wash their sin off in the sacred waters of Ganga, yamuna and saraswathi. The place looked haunted and we could sense stillness although in reality it was worse than a disturbed honeycomb. It was the same place where the most depressing episode of our life took place.

April 22, 1986 the day we could never put out of our mind. The day, which will haunt us without end. The day that stole all our pleasure. We were here on the very day with my five year old little brother elegantly dressed up and looking gorgeous than ever. His tiny dim eyes and his neatly combed dark hair made people turn their heads towards him. My mother walked proudly beside him. He was holding my mother’s little finger with one hand and mine with the other. She loved him more than anything. He was born in poor shape; the doctors gave up hope that he will live for long. It’s my mother’s passion and worship that gave him a new beginning. At times I felt jealous of him for stealing all my mothers love and care.

We stood there gazing at the huge crowd, slowly moving with them towards the holy water. Suddenly we realized that one among us is missing. It was none other than my brother. My mother thought he was with me but he had left my hand minutes before. We searched for him on all sides. We shouted his name a million times. The loudspeakers screamed for him but in vain. We filed a case with the local police and stayed there for three months evidently hoping that we would find him.

Years rolled like days and days like seconds but no trace of my little brother. Every year we visit the place longing for some wonder to happen. Rather than his absence it was my mother’s pale and unvoiced form that bothered me. We decided to stay at our uncle’s house in Nainital for a change.It was indeed a wonderful place. Huge mountains and tall trees, revealing how petite and feeble the humans are. The cold weather and the emerald landscapes, perhaps could give us some break, I thought to myself. But nothing could wipe away our grief.I felt down and struggled hard to put him off my mind but realized how difficult it is at times to control ones emotions. I missed him very much. My uncle asked me to visit the kali temple nearby. It was a good suggestion as I needed some relief too and so I setoff immediately in a bicycle to the temple. I stood in front of mother kali and prayed wholeheartedly with tears rolling over my cheeks. I pleaded for my brother, the only cure for my grief-stricken family.My prayer was disturbed by loud shouts. I looked around with disgust. Some men were fighting over broken bits of a coconut. I took my eyes off them but some sixth sense made me turn back. I saw a lean boy with clear dark eyes and tanned filthy hair. I stood frozen. He was none other than my brother. I rushed towards him, hugged him but he gave me a strong push and roared at me to stay away from him. It took only seconds for me to realize him but sixteen years were sufficient for him to forget me. I made every effort to explain to him, bring back his memories but he mocked at me and vanished slowly from my sight with his friends.

I hurried home and informed my parents everything that had happened. We all rushed to the temple. I took some of his childhood photos with me. We rummaged around for him everywhere in and around the temple but no hint. Everyone now turned towards me .They said I would have seen someone else and mistook him for my brother. The search operation ended there. I was sure that it was my brother. But as days passed I began to doubt myself. I was in a tizzy and at that instant anyone may appear to me as my brother. Two days later my uncle said he had seen a young man who bore a close resemblance to my brother. I was very confused and this added to my concern. The whole day my thoughts were about the one my uncle saw. Will he be the same person I met?I discussed the matter with my uncle. We discussed the person's shape, features and everything. Finally we came to the conclusion that we both had met the same person. But the problem did not end there. We then started discussing the possibility for this man to be ours. I was quite sure about that but my uncle did not have the slightest faith.
Change in place did not bring any change to our frame of mind. My mother spent most of her time sitting alone and praying. No one paid much regard towards her. I went to her and told her that there isn’t any point in thinking about the past. What that has happened has happened. It is silly to keep bothering about things that’s never going to change. She just shook her head and moved slowly towards the kitchen.

Once I was going to the market accompanied by my mother when I saw him standing alone in front of a cigar shop. I purposely walked in front of him with my mother and to my wonder I observed him intently watching my mother. I was confirmed that he is my brother Vishaal but did not speak a word about it to anyone. I wanted him to learn by himself that he is my brother and come to me. I was very happy and relaxed. I went home, laid down and started thinking deeply how I could reunite him with my family.If I could do it, it will be a great twist to the whole family. I wanted to do it all by myself. I didn’t want to throw a monkey wrench in the works by telling about it to anyone. But how could I do it and that too all alone. I took a deep breath and said to myself that I could do it.

The next day I was very busy gathering details about him from his friends. He had very few friends who said that he has no links just hangs about with the cigar shop owner for whom he works. The shop owner knows him only for three years and he is unaware of his earlier period. When asked why I am enquiring all these I said I am just curious.

The next day I met him in the street. I told him I have got something very important to discuss with him. I took him to a lonely place and asked him to listen to me carefully. I showed him some of his childhood photographs. I narrated him his story and as I was saying I could see the reactions in his eyes. A tear rolled down his cheeks. I was certain that he has got his memory back. He was very anxious to see his mother. I asked him to wait a little longer.He told me how he was brought up by an old beggar who did not show even the slightest mercy towards him. He was taught to pick the purse from the pockets of others and once while doing the same, he was caught red handed by the police and was subjected to a year’s imprisonment. After that he never met the beggar. He met the Cigar shop owner and worked for him.I was with him until nightfall. He saw the photos a thousand times as I was talking.

The next day was my mother’s birthday. I thought of presenting her something unique and I had with me the best gift a mother can receive, her son. So I decided to disclose the whole matter on her birthday. I discussed about it with Vishaal. He was very excited. I saw him happily telling his friends that he had got a wonderful mother, a pleasant family and above all a lovely brother. I bought him a set of clothes and asked him to come early the next morning.

The next day I woke up early on with a never before sparkle. I made the finest preparations for the very special day. Everything was fine but Vishaal did not come. I waited for a long time and I began to feel something distasteful. I took my cap and rushed outside to bring Vishaal. Reaching his place, I had the shock of my life. Vishaal had met with an accident and died on the spot. His friends said he was very thrilled the previous night. He said he had to buy a gift for someone and was on his way to the shop when a speeding lorry hit him from behind and crushed him to death.
I stood silent cursing my fate. I made arrangements for his cremation and went home depressed. The day is of dual importance to me, the day of Celebration of my mother’s birth and Commemoration of my brother’s death. I prayed to god to give me the strength to carry this burden all alone.

The End - Thank you for reading.

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