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 10th
standard. Of course, the story was modified later.
