“Sid what the hell should I do?” I’m sitting on the steps of Mojigao. My friend from grad school who has been living with me for the past few months is hovering around me. There’s barely any signal. The lush green forest cover is not having its usual effect on me. Every nerve ending in my body is shot. My mouth is dry and I can feel my pulse increasing.
My sibling based in New Delhi growls from the other end “Ask the scooter guy to send you the cop’s number. Let me handle it”.
My brother’s fierce tone and words inoculate me. Like a vial of courage has been injected directly into my bloodstream.
I am not going to wait here like a sitting duck.
“We’re leaving “ I announce to my stressed friend. “I’m asking them to organise a cab for us, let’s leave the scooter here for the time being.”
Our crime?
Going to a Palestine Peace Walk in Mapusa Market.
One that didn’t actually occur. We were informed by the cops that the organisers didn’t have the right permissions so we decided to drink a juice in the market and make our way to have a leisurely brunch amidst the green to cheer ourselves up about our inability to do anything useful.
With an efficiency that no police department in India has ever shown to catch actual criminals; within half an hour of us leaving Mapusa: they had located the scooter rental guy, told him to bring the person riding the scooter to the police station.
Apparently, we weren’t wearing helmets: a fact that could easily be disputed if CCTV cameras actually worked. The usual fine for not wearing a helmet is a fine of Rs 500. Sensing something was completely off, I called the only litigating Supreme Court lawyer who would pretty much do anything for me; my younger brother Siddhartha.
…
Though younger than me, Sid was forced to grow up sooner. He lost his best friend to stomach cancer at 16. He was constantly compared to me by teachers in school which took its own toll. He wasn’t interested in being sports captain or standing for student council like me. Our school is great if you were conforming to the aspirations, they laid out for you. It was pretty cruel otherwise.
My brother came into his own, when he didn’t have to work off a comparison point.Me.
He left for law school and in those 5 years shed all the dead skin that no longer fit him. He shot up and towered over me (which automatically means he towered over almost everyone else). He had a presence that was difficult to ignore. He led debate teams, moot courts for his college nationally and internationally. He played drums with the college band. He categorically refused to go to grad school in a family of degree collectors because he recognised that a classroom environment had never been conducive to learning for him.
He went independent as a litigating lawyer at age 25. Most people in second generation lawyer families don’t do that, forget a family with no lawyers. He has a level of courage that I can only dream of having. He bet on himself, and as far as I can tell; he’s winning.
….
“Sid, I don’t know what to do- help me”.
If I had to pay him Rs 100 for every time he was at the receiving end of this sentence since he turned 18, my brother could just do pro-bono cases for the rest of his life. I can’t buy a single electronic item without him. The wireless blue hued keyboard I’m currently typing on is also because he visited recently and was aghast that I didn’t have one to go with my second screen. He hates iPhones but will still be the one to inform me that I can use the measure feature to figure out whether the palm tablecloth I really like will fit.
He is able to identify most of my self-sabotaging behaviour before I am even aware of it.
“ I can see from your face and body language you can’t stand these people; why are you wasting your time ? Don’t you have a book you want to write or wouldn’t you rather go home and binge on Good Wife Instead?”
“You obviously like this guy, When have you ever liked someone who’s actually nice to you ? When it can be easy, why are you only attracted to the challenge ?
“You’ll weep as though you’ve been handed a death sentence when you get through Harvard or get work contracts renewed. But let someone tell you, you look thin and you look so pleased and happy as if that’s your greatest achievement! Why are you such a lunatic” !!!
It’s the little things that make him my superhero.
My brother is my live bullshit checker. He mocks me till I have to let go of notions that were ridiculous to begin with. He’s constantly warning me that because of my Instagram posts I am very likely to get arrested. He has to call me out when I’m spread too thin and he knows I’m going to collapse if I continue to keep everyone happy.
When we are in the same space geographically; he’ll make me snacks and rewatch Modern Family with me for 350th time in the middle of the night even when he’s had a longer day than me. He’ll drive me everywhere because he knows I like the pampering. The same way he knows that every time I’m at an airport leaving him or my parents: I cry.
After 48 hours of back and forth and feeling petrified and holed up in my apartment: my brother calls me. He’s finally had a word with the police. They will no longer be bothering me or my foreign friend. Sid has lawyered his way to ensure that no-one messes with his sibling.
I hope there was a point in my life when I was still taller than him, that I did the same.
Whaaaaat? iPhone has a measure feature? Why has my brother not informed me of this!
Being a sis to Sid is indeed bliss. I can also confirm! ❤️