My Brother Javed


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The day seemed hectic as we had to move all day long from place to place in search of buying out desired things at  reasonable  rates .Sometimes we travelled in public transport  some times in a rickshaw or taxi as to cover as much area as possible.This happened sometime twenty  years back when I was looking for a suitable job after my MBA  and intensity   of the same was multiplied after my father’s retirement from the service. Being agreed upon to start a business, my father gave me a major portion of his superannuation package towards capital. That was why my friend and I, both were moving from pillar to post in wholesale market of Dehradun..

To start a business, a shop was taken on rent in the market area  of my native place  and our visit to  wholesale  market was only  to purchase  gift items  for running the shop. Being exhausted, we reached home in the evening hours, we could purchase only a few stuffs and for the rest we decided to go next Sunday.

While going to hand over the bag containing balance amount about Rs. thirty-five thousand to my mother, I found the leather bag was missing .Heaven fell on me. Hard earned money of my father was lost and I could not recollect where that bag was misplaced .Sweating profusely and losing my voice , I became totally crestfallen as I realized that I had  not even a thin ray of hope of getting back the money. As we traveled the whole day in different mode, it became difficult to remember  where and when we lost the bag.

Being completely puzzled ,I went to washroom to have a bath and came out after 15 minutes  and tried to gather courage  to confess the incident .I saw in the drawing room  my parents were  in jolly mood  with an unknown visitor ..I was surprise  to see the bag which we had lost in the city  was lying on the table in front of my father .

“My son come here and meet Javed ,your elder brother ,” mother told in a tone mixed  with spontaneous  excitement .Now I could remember that the visitor whom my mother was introducing  as brother was none other than the Taxi driver whom we took today  for one part of our journey .Javed was telling my parents ‘in the back seat of my taxi ,I found this money bag and by the time it came to my notice ,they had already left the place after paying fare. I saw the money in the bag and was trying to search some hints so that same could be returned  to the proper person .But to my utter surprise ,I got address  of my father ,mother and brother in the bag itself  ,whom I lost 20 years ago.

Long and torturous course of time had taken  away from my mind a vivid  memory  which then became faint  and finally washed out..But it was revived  once again with  this sudden encounter with Javed. From early childhood  I was sent to hostel  for study .During summer vacation ,while I was in class six I came to my parents  and saw a new member who was hardly one year senior to me by age and calling  my parents as “Pitaji” and “Maa”. Later I came to know that boy had got down  from train and came to our house as he was hungry .After preliminary  enquiry my parents  allowed him to  stay with them and they asked him to several time as to from where he had come and who were his parents  but satisfactory  reply was not obtained .He remained on those questions .But his polite behavior  and sense of responsibility  even in that tender  age impressed my parents  and they also accepted him as their elder son in due course .

As an only child then being afraid of sharing love ,I frowned upon their decision and started my dissatisfaction in different ways .Seeing all pros and cons ,my father gave an advertisement in a local news paper in missing children column .After few days ,a couple came to my father to take Javed .In fact Javed was  an orphan whom a fruit seller  couple of Moradabad  station  had adopted  from an orphanage  and they have given the name ,family and shelter .I noticed the tears rolled down  from the eyes of my parents while they handed over Javed to the fruit seller couple  who came as  claimant  with all documents .But I was finally relaxed as there  would be nobody  to share my parent’s love with me. But I had to as right after one year my brother Siddhant  took birth .

In this twenty years of my life’s journey ,many times Javed’s name and his sweet  remembrance  came in the discussion  of my parents  in which I never shown interest .But today ,over come with genuine emotions of relief ,happiness, guilt   about my previous behavior ,I involuntarily  hugged Javed  while giving sincere thanks : I called him my brother .My parents were  overwhelmed  by the sight  and became extremely happy   when I called Javed my brother .It took twenty long years  to accept.


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Kamlesh Bahukhandi
I hate dogs. I' love to be alone sometimes. I like to read, write, travel and dance a lot. My nails are bad; I have degrees in Business Management (MBA) and Mass Communication. I don’t want to be any one else. I love being myself. I make good tea; I like eggs, tea and milk. I love colors, they decide my mood. I love music; it can change the way I am feeling. I like sweets. I like food; I am a self-confessed tea addict. I hate being too formal. I talk less. I could do the washing though I have a very successful career. I like vanilla ice cream. I'm right handed. I always felt bad for lost in love. I am allergic to dust, cats, pollen, soap, powder and strong perfumes. I like to drive fast. I cry at sad movies. When I was a kid, the only thing I could draw was a half face. I don’t believe on horoscopes for the moment, and astrology. I grew up in a small village, I am a village boy. I wet my toothbrush before putting the toothpaste on. I like tea very much (did I say that already). I was popular in College. My favorite place is Italy, for now. I am not able to understand why people watch Star Trek. I type with all fingers. I have lost many good friends as I hate being over concerned. I am 5.9” tall. Yes I forgot to mention I love birds. I speak four languages poorly and one language well. I look luscious when I want to. I am a brilliant speller but a decent writer.

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