My Dearest Dada (elder brother),I think my earliest memory of you is following you and your friends around, while sucking my thumb, near our house in Delhi – I wanted to be part of your cricket team, and you would have none of it! But then, since we were ready-made companions, you introduced me to badminton – right outside that house. I always looked up to you – everything you did I wanted to do. And you did such fun things, always with a twinkle in your eye, to see how folks would react! We started our adventures in life together, with you as my reluctant Pied Piper.Then, our worlds changed as we left our safe haven in India, to meet Baba (dad) in Teheran. We were scared though excited: a new country, a new language, no one we knew, a new world. We landed in Teheran at night, and Baba greeted us in a limo! I canâ??t remember where we stayed, but eventually we had a new home in the snow-covered streets of Teheran – another first for both of us! Our first day in our new home introduced us to T.V. and Sesame Street. I remember Ma (mom) and Baba had to go to some functions for work and we would have our noses glued to the windows, wondering when they would come back. I remember you were scared that something might have happened to them, and I would reassure you. I remember you and I would laugh endlessly at how much Babaâ??s driver resembled Hitler in his looks (only! thank goodness!). Where ever you would lead I would follow.After Iran, we went to Jakarta, via Geneva, and maybe even Bombay and Calcutta – I canâ??t remember the various detours we took before Babaâ??s next assignment. He had another driver, but this time, you would handle the steering wheel while he worked the pedals and gear to and from school. I quietly sat wondering if I should dare ask to drive: but you were fearless! Where there was an adventure to be had, you were sure to blaze ahead. And I would follow, enjoying your moxie, but too timid to lead the way; having fun seeing you try all the exciting things – and scared when you got into trouble, which was frequently, given your restlessness. One summer, I remember you became a giant – you had easily grown at least 3-4 inches – all legs and energy. I think you began to like girls, because Ma found a picture of a girl in your drawer while folding away your laundry. When she asked you about it, you were shy and made up some story – you didnâ??t want to say that you liked her. That was the first time I saw a private side of you, after having shared a room with you growing up. It was the beginning of your adolescence.In hindsight, I wish we were closer in our childhood years. As we grew up, we seemed less companions and more adversaries, trying to carve out our individuality in reaction to each other and our changing circumstances.In high school, you were my â??coolâ? brother. The girls in your year probably had crushes on you. I was the little sister with the giant green bag and a speech impediment – very awkward. But you had the right style: a true knapsack, beautiful hair, sharp features, right clothes – handsome. Even though I was no Quasimodo, I couldnâ??t help but be proud to be your sister going to the same school: good looks, popular, good grades. A prince. â??Thatâ??s my brother!â? You learned to drive and took us to school, when we missed the timing of the various buses and cable cars that took us from Albany to S.F. You were a fast though capable driver. I learned how stylish tail gating was from you. I wish you hadnâ??t started smoking at 16. I know how hard it is to stop something willfully when it has a hold on you. Yet, I still didnâ??t know your heart or your mind; I was too busy having arguments with you – I canâ??t even remember about what.(End of Part 1 out of 2)
