A Brothers’ Watch


A line of brothers. Oldest to youngest. In the direction that one reads this. Some leading, some unsure of today or tomorrow, wasting time in rumination, others observing while some are still learning. I noticed the youth are always very skeptical of their elders. ‘It was different when you were young. Its not the same now’. I worry about him, growing alone, building walls were he needn’t and not building where he should, purely because we weren’t there to tell him or show him. He is still at school. One day I hope he forgives us. When you’re small you have to be big, when you’re big they don’t let you be small again.


A brothers’ watch is not uttered lightly. He came long after us but is a part of us. Growing in a foreign place that all of us have escaped. It isn’t fair that he should have to battle the building of character sans the boys who stood by my side. Blood brothers is just a saying when you’re far away. You haemorrhage feeling, day after day, hoping he is ok. And you become foreigners. Spread to foreign lands.  How do you find each other again, when you have grown and moved, married and emigrated? Where is home? Is there even such a thing for families now so long forgotten? He is alone, but not lonely. The swans of London ask you questions.

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