The Missing Piece.

Dedicated to: They know who they are.

 

Irrespective of how much we are blessed in life, we always crave for something enough that we find a gaping hole in our hearts, because of that one aching wish we carry from our childhood to our graves. The intensity of the absence of the person, thing, situation or opportunity might be regulated by the compass of time that governs it, but the presence of that missing piece will always be in there, nevertheless.

Yes, I do have ‘people’ who love me crazy enough to talk throughout the night to keep me company, to be protective enough to be skeptical about the guys in my life, to turn up from miles away in short notice just to give me a hug on my birthday, send me a digicam from the other end of the country six months after my birthday as a belated gift, sit up late nights to do free professional service, discuss endlessly about cartoons and talk about the random-est of all things to divert my mind from a heartbreak after seeing The Men in Blue or CSK loose a match and practically take care of my entire frequency of writing, and keeping me in check . And so much more than what can be put down, actually.

But come to think of it: A rock solid mould of harmless and brainless thing, always tailing you, , pulling off your carefully made pony tail, making fun of all your favourite dresses, joining in a picture with you only to make faces and ruin it,  fighting with you for a chocolate he actually hates, steal food from your plate, yell at you like a cracked up case at every single mistake you do, bribe you with chocolates to make you maintain the code of silence to cover-up his super-human deeds, scowl and curse and dress your knee every time it gets scraped, try to pry into your secrets, call you names, wake you up in the middle of the night to scare you about ghosts, let you sleep on his shoulder on long trips (and short trips as well), buy you an unbelievably expensive hair-clip after you annoy the hell out of him, let you roam around the entire house all day in his abnormally huge T-Shirt, let the entire world know when you achieve something even remotely close to the consolation prize in a burger eating competition adding without fail that he strongly suspects you cheated, crush you in that bear hug more at times that you need [and not], do extraordinary deeds in public that are bound to embarrass and be the most irritating punching bag ever. 

Is there anything apart from this bugging but indispensible creature which can substitute in any of the above mentioned situation?

Counting my blessings sure does help, but – [read the previous passage again for reference]. That guy I can grown up with, shout at, order to, see married away under my supervision. Yes, Exactly. I try not to think so much. But seeing pictures like this don’t really help, do they?

  

The picture that filled and emptied my heart, instantly.

Yes, yes. I’ll keep trying. But all you pretty faces out there with an elder brother to flaunt to the entire world – I am so  over the 'saying "Oh, your'e so lucky"' phase; yes, I am Royally Jealous. And I will always be. Hmph.

P.s: Yes, this is very random. Might not make sense to a lot of people out there. But this time, I've written for myself. For the love of what I love. *period*

[Photograph Courtesy: Megha Patani]

-          Just Someone.