Oh, Brother!

   "Sometimes being a brother is even better than being a superhero.  -Marc Brown"

     I remember looking at him, awe-struck, as a kid. He was the coolest elder brother ever. He was perfect. I would listen to the songs he played and sang, and try to make sense of them. I would sit by him as he played the guitar, mesmerized. I would look at his perfect grade sheets, and want to study better. I would look at the dimple on his cheek, and wish I had one too. I would look at him have his way around computers, and how he could fix just about anything. I saw his life, so methodical, perfectly chalked out. He knew what he wanted since he was in school. And I looked at him, moving through life, getting everything he wanted, with so much ease. He was a star. At-least in his little sister's eyes.
    I wonder how children without siblings spent their childhood. Coming to think of it, mine would've been one dry childhood, had it not been for my brother. I distinctly remember every little detail, and the memories never fail to bring a smile to my face.
      Endless memories crop up in my mind as I think of those days, and every memory, no matter how small or insignificant, has my brother with me. It sucks to have the most important person in your life gone away. It is tough to come to terms with not seeing the face you grew up with everyday, with not having someone who seems to be able to fix every problem, with not having someone to fight with you over chocolates and the remote. His yearly visits are just not enough. And the visits show me how much we have grown up, how much we have changed.
    We may have grown up, gotten smarter with age and will probably move on to better things in life. But, I know for a fact, that I would trade everything I have to go back to those days, back to being the adoring little sister, who saw the world in her brother's eyes..

Of Rains and Nostalgia.

Monsoons '10

I hate the rains. I really, really do.
Especially when they decide to be a bitch and pour all of sudden, without a warning, from a seemingly sunny sky, only long enough to completely drench you from head to toe. Only long enough to make everything muddy and icky. Only long enough to make your clothes wet, ruin your pretty shoes and your mood. It doesn't take too much to piss me off nowadays anyway. But all I can really do is shake a fist at the skies and mutter to myself while I walk off, thoroughly miffed.


Moreover, I hate the rains when they remind me of when they actually made me smile. Of when I would happily wade through water clogs from college to college during admissions, drenched and dirty but with pleasant company and lots of joy.
I hate how it reminds me of long drives in the night, crazy photo sessions, hot corn by the streets and memorable night-outs.
I hate how it reminds me of days well spent, of hearty laughter, of meaningful smiles, of hidden glances, of wet hugs, of happy tears, of music too loud and of nights too short.
I hate that it reminds me of endless phone conversations sitting by the window, sipping on coffee while watching the raindrops fall.
I hate how it wants me to snuggle up with people I love most, armed with a movie, some popcorn and happy smiles.
I hate how it gets me to take the phone in my hand, type the numbers I know too well, sigh and keep the phone back.


  The one thing the rains never fail to bring to me are happy memories and wishful sighs. Funny thing, the rains. They make the most indifferent people yearn for familiarity and love.
Yes, I hate the rains. I really, really do.