"Alcohol", Ritu tried not to yawn.
"Oh. How come you called so early?"
I held my head and massaged my temples.
Last night would have been fun, I thought.
"It's already 2 pm ", Ritu groaned.
"Huh? How did that happen?"
"I don't know. May be gravity or something"
I hung up the phone as I tried to walk my way to refrigerator to grab some water. The hangover was bad.
Mid-way, I stood by the door and saw my brother struggle with his fingers and the computer keyboard.
He typed 'M-r-f'.
And erased.
'M-z-p'
And blank.
A year had passed since he left his regular school. Now, he was on his own. In the galaxy containing instructions and letters and words he wouldn't understand, he struggled to keep up with the time.
He wanted to write e-mails. He wanted to talk to his friends from all 4 schools he was thrown out from.
But words never came out the way they should have been.
They seemed too complicated and mostly never meant what he wanted them to mean. He couldn't read the names of the people who sent him friend requests on Facebook. His username and password was autosaved. He managed to 'like' photographs.
I was of no help to him either.
Imagine
Born just some years apart, I wrote wonderfully whereas he found it difficult to write his own name for first 8 year
He tried typing again, erased and groaned.
I walked away.
That was what I had always done to him. Walk away. So that I could have my better life. So that I could prove that am superior of the two. He wasn't the most pleasant thing on the universe too. He was selfish, never helped with anything and destroyed everything I made. From my craft book to my personal diary, everything.
For all my life I had perceived him as dumb, stupid and idle.He hated my only source of joy- words.
Me and my parents understood his problem just a year back, when he was so much used to rejections, scolding and being the butt of joke among his 'friends'.
How his 'friends; whom he thought were his only escaped ridiculed him. How all this was the reason of his frustration he released at home. Only to be put down again.
He was 16 now.
He had lost 16 years of his life because of our ignorance to the problems he faced.
Mom and dad cursed themselves for giving birth to such a dumb child.
Until we went for a family outing to see 'Tare zameen par'
Having litres of water to dilute all alcohol from my system, I walked up to his chair.
I had made ego my handbag by not helping the only person who need me the most- my brother.
Had we understood his warning signs of dyslexia any earlier rather than ignoring them and reprimanding him, he would have been less emotionally bruised and in a better school meant for him.
He twisted his torso to look at me.
He struggled to keep the cursor at the right place in the chat box.
"Didi, spelling bol. Aaj last. Fir nahi puchunga"
"Kisse baat kar raha hai?"
"Dubai wale mama. Type karde please"
"Kya likhu bol"
"Type kar, my sister is the best sister in the world"
This story is written as a part of contest by Colgate and Indiblogger intentioned to spread awareness about how ignoring warning signs can result in serious repercussions at times.
