Birth of A Brother

I remember, I think this must be my earliest memory, walking down the lane of my rental house holding a pillow in one hand and clutching my father’s hand with the other. My father had some rolled up bedding in his other arm. He walked jauntily announcing to the entire world that his wife has just delivered a son and that we were off to the hospital to be along with the mother and baby.

I don‘t remember the stay there or the fact that I named my brother ‘Aravind’, but I do remember having at least 4 Aravinds in my Junior KG class. So, it must be true. I must have named him. Not just that, he owes his birth to me. Let me tell you the story.

We were on the first floor of an old rental apartment and there were another half-dozen houses there apart from the landlord who resided on the ground floor. I was a lonely four-year old.

So, secretly, I used to pray to God everyday to give me either an elder sister like Ammu or a younger brother. I never wanted an elder brother who might bash me up or a younger sister who would snatch my lovely beads and dresses. Since God couldn’t turn back time, he satisfied my latter wish.

So, my brother owes me two things – his birth and his name!