The ugly Foundling

He was born three years before me. I can still feel the guilty pangs when my family and relatives were around him. He was my big brother, Legpa. This was rather ironical: though I was the young­est in the family, all the care and concern due to me were all showered on him.

My brothers were handsome with moon-shaped face and well-finished nose. My sisters and I were fair with soft skin and straight hair. But Legpa, as eve­rybody started to call him was very different. He was outsized, dark, had a long nose, with tiny eyes below a protruding brow and I would be most ashamed to be found in the company of my dis­tinctly unattractive brother.

He was just plain ugly, and I would think, should have been excluded from our family.

On his birthday once, I cruelly commented, “You look like an Atsara,” which annoyed my Mom to no end. She held him closer to her bosom to protect and console him. She later told me that I should not say such things because Legpa was my elder brother. But instead of apologizing, I said on  his face, “I hate and despise you!”

I dashed from the room angry and jealous; I felt that my mother loved only him.

Legpa was not simply ugly, he was dimwitted too. He giggled foolishly but always seemed at ease with what he was. He didn’t anguish over the things he couldn’t do. He walked in a shambling gait and his form was devoid of any athleticism whatsoever.

When he was eleven years old, Mom insisted that he go to school. He was duly admitted, two years ju­nior to me, because of his mentally challenged state. I resented having Legpa at my school and pitilessly stayed apart from him. Even if he begged to carry my pack-lunch, I’d refuse. Whenever he’d come running towards me with his ugly laughing face, I would scoot just to be out of his sight. He never showed hurt with my goings-on but would instead forgive me.

Legpa had the character we never had. He’d get ex­cited with anything that came his way. He would wash our clothes, help mom in the kitchen and clean the house. And when we’d make fun of his appear­ance and call him, ‘Atasara’, he would smile, while we would roll on the lawn, holding our belly, laughing and teasing.

He always wanted to be with us, but my mates and I would run away, teasing him and shouting his nick­name. I never loved him the way a sister should love her big brother but hated him. Instead, he loved me.

With the passage of time, we grew up. All of us got married and left our parents. We were so busy with our own families, that we didn’t have enough time to be with our parents. Legpa was the only one with them, preparing their food, attending to them when they were sick and rendering all possible love.

I once went to meet my parents. Only then did the reality of life dawned on me that the ugliest things in life could be the best. Legpa, whom I thought the ugliest creature alive, was the pride and joy of my parents’ dotage. We were never ever able to serve them like Legpa did. He was their best kid.

*Ataara-clown like

*Legpa- pet name meaning ‘good’

The above story was published on 8/4/2006 in Kuensel (National Newspaper) Bhutan and awarded the best story. I wrote this story in 1999, when I just completed my 10^th standard. Of course, the story was modified later.