My brother Anuj was my favorite brother. We grew up in the “Fauzdari Patty” neighborhood of Nagaon, a small town in Assam, India. He was a year my junior, and we attended the same school. Since there was no school bus, we would walk to school together. My fondest childhood memory is walking hand in hand with my brother Anuj to and from school. On our way, we often stopped at “Kala Mandir”, a cultural hub of our town. With the arrival of Autumn, the place was filled with excitement as preparations were made for the annual celebration of Goddess Durga. My brother Anuj’s favorite was Ganesh, the elephant God, while my favorite was Saraswati, the goddess of learning. There used to be a group of potters who were responsible for making the idols. As the artisans worked, we stood in awe, watching them set up the straw-and-clay skeletons. The first step was to gather mud—the potters would carry the sacred earth from the riverbanks and mix it with clay. Over time, with each visit from school, we watched as the goddess's features became more distinct. But the most profound moment came with the painting of the eyes. The head artisan, with a steady hand and in hushed silence, would breathe life into the Goddess's gaze. For my brother and me, it was a moment of true magic, as if goddess Durga had suddenly awakened.
( My brother Anuj , left)
One more highlight of the celebrations was the gifts
we got. My dad always bought fabric from the Marwari Patty clothes market, and
we'd visit a tailor shop called “Fancy Tailor.” The tailor, Rahman, took our
measurements, and we'd often drop by to see how things were coming along. There
were street vendors everywhere, and while we waited, we would stop at a coconut
vendor’s cart. The seller would sharpen the fruit, and once I paid him, he
carefully inserted a straw in it and handed us the coconut. Anuj loved coconut,
especially the delicious nectar inside. Our gifts, a pair of shirts and trousers,
were ready just in time for the big festival. We were jubilant. We wore them
with exuberance and soon would head to the photo studio for a group photo – the
picture was going to be the grand finale!
There was a restaurant called "Chalachal"
located in the center of Nagaon Town. I never went there. I heard that the food
there was quite pricey. When I was in middle school, I took a scholarship exam.
It was very competitive, and I was lucky enough to qualify for the scholarship.
The money wasn't much, but it was given out annually, and the lump sum I
received was substantial for a teenager. I felt like a king when I pocketed the
money. It didn't take long for the school grapevine to spread the news, and
soon Anuj found out. “Brother, would you take me to Chalachal?” I happily
agreed. It was my first earning, and I was thrilled to make my little brother
happy.
Life is a journey, not just about reaching a
destination. While reaching your goals is important, it's really the
experiences along the way that bring life to life. I often wish I had more
moments to spend with my brother. I wish I could visit him more often; my heart
feels heavy thinking of my departed brother. I realize no one truly controls
where our journey ends. We can only cherish the journey and make it worthwhile.
My own journey started in a small town, a special place where two boys would
walk hand in hand to school, surrounded by genuine laughter, joyful cheers, and
pure happiness.
By Ankur Bora, Dallas, Texas , 25th August
