Dear Brother

Dear Brother,

You know I was always afraid to answer a call. It's not that you managed to race me to the rotary phone. I let you believe that, slowing down on purpose.

Now that you're gone, I stand here laughing through my tears, remembering the tomfoolery. Growing up with you, my younger brother, was the best childhood anyone could have. Yes, we did fight a lot and snickered when the other got chastised by dad, or mom. But I wouldn't have had it any other way. Ever.

Brother, you always raced ahead, like the Virar fast local, even as I lagged behind like an all-stops train. It was also why I stand here today. The fateful night of 1st Jan.

The world was getting ready to ring in the new year when the other ring startled us-- the phone ring. While rest of the family slept, I awoke and, somehow, answered the phone. That was the last I, or anyone else, heard from you.

When the police called the next morning, I could sense the rising dread on dad's face. The journey to the station where we found your mortal remains was punctuated with sudden gasps of breath, a lot of praying, and forcing ourselves to stay positive.

You had fallen off a train, they said, although that was never confirmed. Far more sinister causes came to mind. None could bring you back. What was confirmed, for sure, was the fact that we had a gaping hole now. In our family and in our hearts.

This morning, mum called, and I dragged my feet to the phone. I knew why she had called, and as always, I was afraid to answer it.

Rest in peace.