I wish….

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 46; the forty-sixth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.

The image still remains crystal clear inside of my head. It has been 20 years yet I still think of him every single day of life. If anyone would ever ask me in my younger days if I had any siblings? With a proud look on my face I would point Vivaan out. We were always together, and it was almost impossible to separate us. Either fighting in the garden or inside he house there is no one I have loved more than my brother. He taught me how to make a slingshot out of a rubber band and annoy people from far away. Everyday he used to wake me up with a shot right to my head along with a scream: ” Wake up you fatso”, it was almost as if he were saying good morning to me. We used to spend the whole day together, playing in the park, watching old movies, messing up the house and what not. HE WAS MY BROTHER.

It was the 27th of July, 1997. It was the first morning of all the ones I could remember not being wake up by a shot. Rubbing my head, I shouted Vivaan, to see where he was. Grabbing my slingshot, I shot one right through his room, shouted:” You wait and see, I am coming for you” and ran towards his room to grab him. Stopping in my tracks as soon I reached the door of his room, I saw he same image that I still see every day of my life. High up above the ground, a calm and serene Vivaan was hanging by the fan. The mouth slightly open, the eyes shut close. He was just hanging there. Thinking it to be another prank of his, I clutched him and snapped at his clothes tugging at them. Not wanting to accept what was happening, I started to scream, shouted for Maa and Paa to come, shouted Vivaan’s name. But to no avail. Tears had started to swell up my eyes.

What came next was even worse. Maa came running into the room, a belan in her right hand and dough stricken left hand and as soon as she entered, she screamed Vivaan at the top of her voice. A heartbreaking cry, dad came to see what was happening. Completely shocked at the scene, he ran towards Vivaan and touched him, just like I did. Grabbing me and mom, he led us out. Being a strong man he was, even his could not stop his throat from choking and his eyes from watering. Giving us instructions, he asked maa to have a seat and ordered me to call the ambulance right away. Not listening to dad, maa still stood there, sobbing and crying just looking at Vivaan with no words. Running to my room, I grabbed the phone and tried to dial the numbers on it. I just couldn’t. I felt like shouting at the top of my voice, I felt like screaming into the ears of Vivaan, I felt cheated, I felt heartbroken, I felt betrayed.


Till today, whenever I see Vivaan’s image of the past, I choke up and shed tears. I today do wonder what kind of life would Vivaan have lived had he not hanged himself? I wish he could have at-least talked to me, his blood, his brother before doing what he did, I was young, but I wasn’t immature. I wish I could have known that something was troubling him, I wish I had been a better brother to him. I wish I could have the time to tell him that THE PAGE WILL TURN and whatever that has happened with him will only last a while. I wish….

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