Nibandha - Maza Dada !!!

I just had a small chat with dada. He was asking about my credit card details. The chat was over and out within a couple of minutes but it instantly reminded me of an old incident when dada had asked Baba to get one credit card so that he could purchase some online games CD.
It was my insistence during the “Baarsa” that my little brother be called Rahul. Kartik was just a formal identity for the school. I vividly remember the sibling fights we had, which mostly revolved around TV remote and video games. The fights generally ended with him scratching my arms and me hitting him on the back. Gradually our fights became less frequent. I thought we are getting mature, but later I realized Rahul had surrendered to my continuous bullying and bugging. Before I could have the intelligence to understand it, Rahul was growing and was doing so rapidly. The restless, aggressive and stubborn Rahul gave way to a more calm, mature and humble Kartik. He was exemplary in his studies, often getting more than me. I loved the praise good academics brought. But Kartik never had any attraction for the success; it came to him as naturally as his humility and intelligence. . something that was mandatory not something to be proud of.
He had varied but quite unusual interests since I can remember. I have never seen him chat with friends for hours on a typical “katta”. I have never seen him come home with dirt splattered all over after a long game of cricket. He had been a homely guy, spending most of the time on computer, scrabble, carom or the old set of mechanics which required intelligence and creativity more than physical exercise. He was the one who instantly claimed his authority over the new computer Baba bought when he was just 10 year old. Since then, it has been his world all along.
I was sailing through my own sea of feelings and he through his own. One day suddenly after his HSC results he came in front of me . . tall, lanky with his curly hair and brooding frame and to my shock . . the adams apple too !!! I wondered where my little brother with a squeaky little voice disappeared. He was suddenly talking about career, studies, life . . love, relationships as well !!! That was quite a shock for me. I tried to gulp the swift jump he had taken. And I was also feeling I had missed such a crucial phase of my bro’s life. But he was there nonetheless and I could clearly see the transformation and feared the day when he will leave us behind for conquering some new horizons.
Kartik was strong enough not to let his emotional self show the day he left for his college in Goa. My brother studies in “BITS PILANI Goa Campus” I would brag to my friends. But within the three and half years he spent there, he gave us lots of more reasons to brag. We never talked daily or for that matter even weekly. But whatever conversations we did have, I could realize the way he was growing. He had gradually become dada. We used to joke that since we brought our dog Snowy, I became “Taai” and Kartik became “Dada”. But jokes apart, he has been a real dada in all sense. I have talked to him about some of the most serious and private subjects of my life and has got some of the most amazing and most unexpected and the simplest advices. But never mind his genius; whenever we are together, he is the same small kiddish Rahul who loves “Ambyacha Rass” and “Purnachi Poli”.
I think that’s what makes him so unique. . his simplicity. Today when I think about him working in Juniper Networks with some of the most intelligent minds of the country about 1200 km away from home in Bangaluru, I can still be sure that when he calls home first thing at night, he will say “Aai mala gharchi athavan yetey”.
Keep it up Dada. We all love you.