Stories We Tell

When he was 4 years old, Krishna Malik declared in the living room of his house with much aplomb and banging feet (that hardly produced any sound except a soft thump on a bed of cotton) that he wanted a speaking doll. This was taken by his mother and father with not much enthusiasm, and only when he started to cry did his mother take a strict step of slapping lightly on his cheek with mild anger in her eyes. While this did not do any good, and in fact resulted in an increased volume of his cries, one year later his younger cousin was born. As fate may have it, the day he was born, Krishna Malik remembered the day of much hullabaloo about the speaking doll and assumed comfortably that while this baby did not speak but only cried shrill cries, his parents had taken his demand, which was accompanied with much drama, quite seriously and had ensured the doll was made available. The crying doll was named Vineet Malik.

As you would know it is very hard to not like a baby, leave alone hate one, but the moment Krishna Malik laid his eyes on Vineet Malik, he loathed him. If you ask him why would that have happened, he might struggle to find a particular reason – was it his wrinkled skin, or his lack of skills required to open one’s eyes or his painful cries or the instant attention he got from everyone including not just Vineet Malik’s but Krishna Malik’s parents? Vineet Malik’s mother was Krishna Malik’s mother’s brother. That would make him his cousin of the first order and he was expected to indulge in the same circus surrounding his birth which he chose not to be a part of. Next day, he had to carry two packets of clothes for him which his mother had bought, wrapped in a pink plastic with tiny, ugly looking flowers on it.

Krishna Malik was 6 years old when his grandmother, his maternal grandmother to be precise, had told him while he sat on her lap that this child, when he grew up, would take all his toys and clothes. Krishna Malik was not very happy to hear this news and decided to never let him touch any of them. His decision was also accompanied by a rather sinister act of childish violence when, at one particular moment two days later, as (bad) luck would have it, he was left alone with Vineet Malik who was in his white onesie. In his usual state of mind, Krishna Malik, who unlike other children did not like Coca Cola, would not even touch it but in this pristine moment of opportunity for vengeance, opened the refrigerator, carried Vineet Malik near it, dug out the bottle filled with translucent brown fuzzy drink and poured it all over his onesie. Because his family of grown ups had a special liking for the drink and the next replenishment was a day away, the quantity was not much but it was enough to turn white cotton into brown, and because it was cold, Vineet Malik laughed hysterically. This did not please Krishna Malik and disappointed, he returned to his room, climbed up on the bed and slept with his stomach down.

When Krishna Malik turned 10, he developed a habit of waking up at midnight. This peculiar trend was a matter of discomfort to his parents, and on one fine day, Mr and Mrs Malik took their son to the nearest child specialist’s clinic. The clinic was next to a cow shed and Krishna Malik, in his 1 hour waiting time, counted twenty-three mows of cows and buffaloes. He was about to increase the count to twenty-four with his forefinger exploring the deep crevices of his right nostril, when Mr Malik asked him to get up as his turn was announced by the compounder. Later on his way back home, squeezed between his father who rode the scooter and his mother on the back seat, he wondered whether the compounder had acquired the voice of cows after having lived next to them for a major portion of his life. This led him deeper into the concept of effects that one being has on the other. After thinking about it for a while, he grew tired and boredom struck him leading him to fall asleep and wake up only in the morning when his mother thumped his shoulder as he was getting late for the school. One week later, his summer vacations would start and he would be meeting Vineet Malik after a gap two years. Not that Krishna Malik cared about this fact, he was excited for the carefree days that were to come.

During the vacations, one of the most played games when cousins got together was always hide-and-seek. It must be declared the national sport of the country of cousins, thought Krishna Malik. By now, his clan of cousins had grown in strength to five, but his exclusive dislike towards Vineet Malik was preserved in its entirety. It was during one such gameplays that Krishna Malik hid inside a broken cupboard lying discarded in the store room on the roof and realised he was not really important. He had hid there for thirty minutes (he had recently acquired a wrist watch), before doubt and fear started to creep in his mind that his cousins might have forgotten him. This thought was so grave that Krishna Malik started to cry while stepping out of the cupboard and walked down the stairs. To much of his surprise, he found that his four cousins had shifted to another game of lakes and mountains where the land was a lake and any risen platform was a mountain. For the first time, he experienced an unforeseen rage and with tears in his eyes, he pounced at Vineet Malik and slapped him hard, twice. It was not a surprise that after this incident, Vineet Malik had cried for an hour and he himself had been banished to stay grounded for 24 hours without the TV and games. He had cried his heart out, accentuated by a sense of embarrassment when even his parents were pro Vineet Malik. He felt cheated, abandoned, uncared for and unwanted and refused to eat dinner. At midnight, when he woke up, he remembered going to the fridge and eating the ice-cream that was brought for everyone and his cup was left there for him to have in the morning. Obviously, in the morning the cup would not be there and he would blame Vineet Malik for it and would cry, after having enjoyed the strawberry flavour. Strawberry was not a flavour of preference to him but that night he would have to compromise to satiate his hunger.

At the age of twenty three, he played the role of a catalyst in ensuring Vineet Malik broke up with his girlfriend. He had transferred some pornographic images and videos to Vineet Malik’s cellphone just before his movie date and had messaged the girl hinting at adultery. Knowing she would check his phone and as nineteen year olds were, would take the presence of pornographic content as an indication of his sex-mania and debauchery.

At Vineet Malik’s wedding, he threw away his underwear and took great pride knowing his cousin  got married without wearing one.

When his son graduated from his undergraduate college, Vineet Malik found the tyres of his car punctured.

The day Vineet Malik died, he called his sons to his bed and

• When I was a kid, I had always wanted a brother. A brother with whom I could play, fight, eat, and  sleep. A brother who would be there for me whenever I needed him irrespective of whether we had spoken in the last one year or not. But I was not blessed with one. Not even a cousin. Your grandfather and grandmother were the only children of their respective parents.
• We know Pa.
• But with you, the family curse seems to have been broken. Think yourself lucky to have been born with a sibling to live your life with. There would come a day when one of you would die and the other would live on.
• What are you saying Pa?
• No. Listen. There would be such a time. And when that time comes, and one of you is there spending a happy, fulfilling time with your own family, do remember that a part of you is in the stars watching over you. Never forget that, ever. Never forget the times you had spent growing up together, fighting, playing, taking care, complaining, watching television, eating and sleeping. Never forget how you hugged each other as kids when the lights went lights went off due to power cuts. Do you remember that?
• Yes Pa. I.. We remember.
• Yes. Never forget that. Your mother and I will not always be there but we will leave one portion of ours to be with you always.
• Don’t say that Pa.

—

Pa never had anyone he could call sibling, close or distant. But he liked telling imaginary stories. It was his way of telling us what not to do with each other. Despite his best efforts, we fought, hurt each other, threw each other’s notebooks in the toilet, complained to Ma, and did all the nasty stuffs siblings do. But we also saved our Rupees 10 a month pocket money to buy a box of crayons as birthday gifts or a box of Cadbury chocolates. Now both of us have grown up, grown apart, busy with our own lives and social circles, but what connects us both is the invisible, unfelt string, and a feeling that there is someone on whom we can rely unconditionally, that there is a relationship without any obligations which would continue to be there forever and that we have not lost our parents but they continue to live in my eyes and his for each other.