a trim, a shave, a whiff of growing up....
suddenly we realise that we have to look up to meet his eye, realise its him with all the tricks up his sleeve; who turns a joke on us; its him who replaces the burnt bulb, who fixes PC bugs and who walks escort.
its him who delivers the best punch line, who argues with auto wallahs and gifts us on raksha bandhan. (until recently, it was the other way round)
Our talk now is about SEZ's and stings, party wear and politics, smoking and socialism. Our little man has come of age.
I recently bundled all his toys up the loft....soft clay, spidermans, aeroplanes and cricket balls.
each one brings a distinct memory: his first word, tooth, step and joke.
Born about eight and ten years apart from us, he will never cease to be the red-skinned, scrawny thing who clenched our fingers tight. But all come crashing down when you hear his voice rumbling over the phone. And you know its time to let go....
Life isnt easy for him either with three hecklers: one mom and two big sisters who act mum!! When one isnt shouting about the laundry, the other is droning about logarithms and the third locks away the laptop. A pampering grandmother proves to be the silver lining.
But what happens in his life? does he know his calculus and french verbs? does he need more space? what happens at school? ragging? peer pressure? will he talk to us about gals and smoking?
we no longer seem to know all about his life. but we hope he will take care and will be fine.
suddenly we realise that we have to look up to meet his eye, realise its him with all the tricks up his sleeve; who turns a joke on us; its him who replaces the burnt bulb, who fixes PC bugs and who walks escort.
its him who delivers the best punch line, who argues with auto wallahs and gifts us on raksha bandhan. (until recently, it was the other way round)
Our talk now is about SEZ's and stings, party wear and politics, smoking and socialism. Our little man has come of age.
I recently bundled all his toys up the loft....soft clay, spidermans, aeroplanes and cricket balls.
each one brings a distinct memory: his first word, tooth, step and joke.
Born about eight and ten years apart from us, he will never cease to be the red-skinned, scrawny thing who clenched our fingers tight. But all come crashing down when you hear his voice rumbling over the phone. And you know its time to let go....
Life isnt easy for him either with three hecklers: one mom and two big sisters who act mum!! When one isnt shouting about the laundry, the other is droning about logarithms and the third locks away the laptop. A pampering grandmother proves to be the silver lining.
But what happens in his life? does he know his calculus and french verbs? does he need more space? what happens at school? ragging? peer pressure? will he talk to us about gals and smoking?we no longer seem to know all about his life. but we hope he will take care and will be fine.
anxiously,
romila.
P.S: I will never live it down, if he ever gets to read this.
romila.
P.S: I will never live it down, if he ever gets to read this.
in the pic, the not-so-lil bro
1 comment:
Can imagine your almost adolescent bro' with a hoarse voice growing up fast. Give him company, talk about your life, your friends and good looking boys, and he'll soon start talking abt his.
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