ABSINRAW

Some memories are not easy to keep. It is excruciating to find yourself teleported to them and relive them. One of the heavier snippets that I carry is of the only time, when in helplessness and anger I ended up bolting my doors and kept crying till I eventually slept.

I was in college doing MBA, around 700 kms away from my home. That night, I received a call from my brother. We are not the kind of siblings who would talk a lot over calls. I don’t think we ever have been those people in general who would call someone to talk to them, when texting was an option. So, when the phone buzzed that night, it all started from something out of place. My brother is younger than me, though our temperaments are attuned to opposites. When he started speaking, his voice was fairly regular. His volume, his pacing, it all felt completely normal. Maybe that was why it took me more time to come to terms with the content of our conversation.

I was sitting on my bed in the hostel room, getting ready for the dinner at the mess, when I picked it up. What I heard from the other end was, “Bruno is not keeping well. His wounds have been infested, and he has not been moving much. It’s very difficult for him. Mom and dad have decided not to tell you. They are talking about letting him go. It’s going to happen tomorrow morning. Come home.”

We brought him when he was a 3-month-old pup. Because he was a German Shepherd pup, he was quite big when he came. I was in class 7, my brother was in class 3, so in hindsight the relationship we shared was of siblings, where Bruno was the middle one, that he believed for sure. For both me and my brother, Bruno had played role of being different constants for us. Where I was there physically to be a part of his prime young energetic years, my brother had the chance to also accompany his wiser ones.

He was 13 years old, when one side of the hips collapsed and he was unable to carry himself. He tried his best to drag himself everywhere, but it only worsened things for him. I guess the obstinacy that runs in our family rubbed on him too, because he never took our support in being carried from one place to the other.

It was 2-3 months before that call, when I had returned to the college from holidays, that I told him by the next time I see him, he’ll be better. I did all I could, but there was no way I could have made it in time to see him one last time. And I never did. All I have now, is a tattoo, and a fading mark of his accidental bite.

That anger and helplessness which seeped in my bones that night flares up each time this snippet runs through my head. I realize now that when we brought Polo in, our 3-year-old indie brat, I subconsciously had decided to make her comfortable with being carried in arms, even when people argued against it. There are times when I catch her staring at me, it reminds me of Bruno. There are times when I am not able to remember Bruno’s appearance clearly, and both Polo and Bruno’s image get superimposed on each other. Those are times when I get frightened at the thought of all that was seeped in to be oozing out of my bones again, as the carried snippets try to connect past with the future.

All I can do is stay in this present as long as I can.








DEAR BRUNO – ABSINRAW