The Dangerous Trail

Warm embrace

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"My brother was 12 years older to me and my parents adored and loved child. Then I came as an accidental pregnancy whom neither of my parents wanted yet I was born.It was not because I was a girl but they were in late forties when I was born. It did not take long for me to figure out that I was the unwanted one in the house as I saw my birthday was never celebrated but all my friends had their birthdays. As I grew, I came to know that my parents had tried to abort me when they came to know my mother was pregnant as it would have been an embarrassment for them in front of family and friends but could not as it would have been fatal for my mother. For the same reason my every birthday, my every achievement although made them proud they were always entangled with a sense of embarrassment as well so my accolades were always discussed in hushed tones. In those days my angel, my support my everything was my brother Satyendra Tiwari or Satya as everyone called him. He would give me the love of both my father and mother. During my birthdays both of us would sneak out and would celebrate my birthday with his friends in their house. When I was in primary school I remember going with Bhaiya to parks while all other kids would go with their parents. Bhaiya would be the lion or the horse while I rode on his back, he would be the Santa during Christmas . Apart from PTM(Parents Teacher meeting),nothing was attended by my parents. All annual functions, all Scouts and Guides congregation and later NCC would be attended by him. Every sport that I won Satya Bhaiya would be there to encourage me, cheer for me. He was the one who wanted me to join either Armed Forces or Police. Even before I was out of school, He was already in the engineering college doing his B.E. in Mechanical. Due to my father' s work we had shifted to Mumbai and Satya had joined one of the most prestigious colleges in Mumbai and my parents were so proud of him. It was the most difficult phase of my life when Bhaiya was not around, and I was on my own. I used to call him everyday and narrate whole day's events and he used to patiently listen to all of them giving me advise, suggestions. I used to tell him how my parents thought he would one day go to the US and join one of the most prestigious companies in the world , how they were desperate for him to win the gold medal this year. I will never know whether it was their expectations or wrong company that took him down the unwanted path but that year his grades had suffered and my father went to meet him and was shocked to see him and hear from his friends that he had become a drug addict.

He was draining all the money that my father sent him to pay for his addiction, he had sold everything he had and now was thrown out of the hostel as he had not paid his dues and used that money to buy drugs. We were all horrified with that discovery and it was decided that he would be put in a rehab. He stayed in rehab for some time and then he was back but just 2 months later he was again back to where he was, so he continued shifting in and out of rehabs. He would be found in all God forsaken places in the filth, in the garbage, along storm water drains, in red light areas and my father would search and bring him back. Neighbors, friends and relatives had started giving us a cold shoulder and asked us to move out of the area so other people are not affected. In order to take care of Bhaiya my parents sent me to a hostel so they could focus on him and his treatment. We moved to a new place where it was difficult for my father to commute but still for my Bhaiya they did that. I continued speaking to him occasionally when he would be in a condition to speak and every time when I asked him why he was doing this he would go silent on me but he always mentioned that he was trying hard to kick the habit but he was just unable to. That summer vacation I had insisted and had come but when I had come , I was shocked. He was no more the hero I adored, he was a ghost of himself, eyes red, dark circles around his eyes, frail. At night when I was asleep, I was woken up guttural cries as he rolled up like a ball trying to control his seizures. I could not imagine how my hero like brother was reduced to such a sham. Early morning when I checked on him he was in deep sleep as the doctor had sedated him. The site before me was gut wrenching, Bhaiyya had cuts and bruises over his body which he had done sometimes to blackmail my parents to give him money and sometimes to control the pain he had. They had mingled with the small red spots of innumerable syringes that he had pierced himself when he had pursued the habit.