For “How we first met” Series

This blogpost is in response to the title above started by a fellow blogger Priya Varshney @ Bittersweet Turns. I had promised her I’d post one in this series so I am posting a fictionalised version of my story which actually is a setting for my novel.

My brother’s name is Rajyavendra and I am Satyendra. He goes by Rajii, Raja would have been more charismatic but I guess the authoritarian ring of that name was too much to handle for the family and times were trying enough for mother then.

“Rajii…! I hollered an extended version of that name for the first time in my life, standing at the edge of a dusty playground. A tiny black boy emerged from a group of children playing football and came running towards me. He looked nothing like his picture. His shirt and shorts were extremely dirty and he had scratches and cuts one too many;  he looked a shade of dark brown and flashed a series of white teeth at me and asked,

“Are you my brother?” I had not an iota of doubt about that, I extended my hand and said yes he grasped it and we walked home. We were both grinning from ear to ear looking at each other. 

He was six and I eight and we were meeting each other for the first time. I lived in Gangtok with my mother, he in Siliguri with grandfather.

“You are very fair,” he remarked. 

“What happened there?” I pointed at all his wounded areas.

“This one I got yesterday while sliding down the tamarind tree,” he proudly turned his scratched cheek towards me then he stood on one leg and half turned the other one so I could get a better view of his raw open wound, “This one was in the river while diving from the rail bridge, I hit a stone,” he proudly stated.  He pointed at the scar on the right leg and said “that’s dog bite,” and began walking. The ones in the hand may not have been important. I felt disappointed for not having anything of value to show. 

 “I got you toffees” I handed him three toffees that were slightly stuck with each other on account of my grasping it within the confines of my pocket till my hands became sticky with it but he did not mind and started sucking it with relish. He noisily rolled the sweet around his tongue which he stuck out to show me and asked if it had turned orange. It indeed had, this made him very happy. I popped one myself, I liked orange tongue too.


THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING. Comments, Criticism, Editorial suggestions are all welcome. Would love to read your feedback.

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