Sagar lay on his bed staring at the ceiling fan. The Spiderman stickers were still there, though a bit shabby and torn now, but they reminded of his 5th birthday when Samar had decorated their room with Sagar’s favourite cartoon character- Spiderman. Samar knew everything about Sagar, more than his parents, more than Sagar himself.
“What was his fault?” Sagar thought about the day his step brother left the home. He lay in remorse, filled with emotional thoughts and dozed off to sleep.
Around midnight, his dehydrated body woke up. He had started taking too much alcohol lately. He got up and walked to the kitchen to get water. The bunch of the flowers in the living room caught his attention. “Oh! I forgot their anniversary!” Cursing himself, he drank a glass of water in one go and picked up the flowers. There was a card attached to it. In the mayhem between Amish and drunk Sagar, Ruma had forgotten to pull out the card written by Samar.
“I want to see you mom”, Sagar was shocked to see the card. “He’s alive, he’s there,” Sagar wanted to shriek, but his throat choked. Tears were dripping down his eyes and he was wiping them again and again to see his brother’s handwriting. Yes, he was his elder brother, his friend, his dad, his mom, his everything. Though he had labelled him as his step-brother, Sagar could not deny the fact that their bond was above any blood relation.
With mixed sentiments, he hugged the flowers and kissed the card sent by Samar. Gathering himself, he stood up and went back to his room. He wondered where his brother could be- same city, somewhere nearby or any place far away. He looked out of the window. It had started raining. He recalled how he jumped into the puddles with his brother during childhood. Without wasting any minute, he went out in the lawn, getting drenched. He felt the rain washing all the pains of yesteryears. Like a little child, Sagar laughed after ages.
“Sagar… Sagar”, Ruma was yelling at the top of her voice. Amish came running hurriedly to look into the matter.
“What’s wrong? Is Sagar ok?” Amish demanded.
Ruma stood at the porch, pointing out at Sagar, who was soaking wet in the rain, unable to hear his mom’s voice.
“Please bring him back, he will fall sick,” Ruma asked Amish, frantically.
“Hold on a moment”, Amish said. “Just look at his face. How happy he is! After ages, we are seeing him smiling. Let it be, let him be himself.”
Amish held Ruma’s hands and brought her inside. The flower bouquet had filled the living room with a vibrant aroma.