He started off in my life as the elder brother who was too small for the role and who just could not understand why this thing that they insisted on calling his baby sister, had these bright beady eyes. “If I could only poke them a bit…” he thought, but was caught several times with a finger poised to stab at those optical illusions. Responsible adults, who reveled in the girl child, successfully thwarted each blinding attempt and I survived the need for glass eyes like the Nawab of Pataudi. Vision is still 20-20 (despite the age), even though I say so myself.
Not only was he the first born among all the grandchildren, he was born the commander in chief - where he led, we followed. Sometimes that meant scaling the rooftops of our granddad’s ancestral home. Sometimes it meant climbing the trees to rescue his priceless manja-coated kite string. It meant the breaking up of a Ludo game in case he was losing. It meant wielding the bat to face his fast bowling practice – and mind you, not with a tennis ball. It also meant being sidekicks in the shadow of the ideal eldest grandson. You could not resent him though, because he always had your back.
You needed that extra pen; he was there with it. You needed that math homework done he would do it. You wanted that extra chocolate flake on the ice-cream cone, even though you’ve eaten yours, he would give his to you. He would never hesitate to give away the matchbox cars he had collected to little cousins. He would save his pocket money and buy you that dancing doll you wanted from the toy store in the corner. So what if his idea of encouraging you to ride the bicycle was to take off the handbrakes - sending you skidding on the gravel, flying off the seat, and splashing into the garden pond? And to add insult to injury, he actually guffawed and called out for mom saying, “We got a spouting whale in the tub!” I was fished out by the gardener and got my own back by using the fighting techniques he taught me, on him with much satisfaction.
It was like growing up with Jem Finch – never a dull moment. There was always an adventure to tackle or a drama to stage, or a fight to win, or a loss to convert into a victory. In between, I learned from him about cricket, computers and carrying on all the values that everyone in our family stood for and still do. Diwali was always a blast thanks to his idea of collecting Granny taxes separately (for that matter uncle tax, aunt tax etc etc). Holi was a riot too and even now every family gathering he arranges for is a feast no one wants to miss. And I think of him always:
For toughening me up.
For getting me through math in school.
For teaching me to drive.
For the laughs.
For the sights of Washington DC.
For the microwaved ice-cream.
For the kick in the back.
For the endless support.
For so much more…
Jem grew up and destiny had him make his home in the Land of Liberty – but he’s never too far to be there when it matters the most. And he continues to touch our lives and make a difference in all the roles he lives out with aplomb, so here goes: Happy Birthday… to a father who will be unmatched always, to a husband who is a rock you can build your faith on, to an uncle who is always the best friend, to a brother like no other, and to a son who is a gem. Happy Birthday, Jem – we will send out the rockets in the Diwali night sky and have kababs on the table – from all of us who love you, and you know who we are.
