Prabhu, my funniest brother

Prabhu arrived via FedEx to SF. No need to check flight arrival departure schedule. He gets delivered to me at my door step. No need to assign him a bedroom. No need to make sure he has a comforter to keep him warm. It is a strange feeling. Now he takes so less space. While he was alive he took less space than anyone I know. It is so humbling.

Prabhu, you are the only one from Balashanker Gems, who has been to every house I lived since leaving Jamshedpur and have known my boys at every age while they were growing. These include, Shenoy Nagar (Bhu was born there), Besant Nagar (Bhu 4 and Shanker was born there), Madurai (Bhu 6 and Shanker 2), Buffalo (Bhu 8 and Shaker 4), Seattle (Bhu 18 and Shanker 14) and Bay Area (Bhu 23 and Shanker 19). I guess the only two houses you did not visit are San Diego (1 year) and the condo I first lived in Seattle (14 months) for just over an year in these places. Wish you could visit me in Bangalore. You will love this house. Prabhu we miss you.

Suddenly, I felt bad for rubbing shampoo on Prabhu’s bruised knee four decades ago; bruised with repeated fall during cricket games. This was the first time I had seen liquid soap that smelled so good. I was extravagant with its use, although I knew we could not afford it. It belonged to my maternal uncle who was visiting us from abroad and I wanted to maximize its use. Prabhu’s scream from the burning sensation on his knee could be heard for miles and prompted my Dad to run to the site after switching off the main source of electricity to our house. My Dad was
a gadget man and everything in our house was motorized. The gadget that gave us the most creeps was our security alarm. The wiring for this arrangement was unprofessionally laid all around the garden. Probably this
caused great anxiety in my Dad whenever things went wrong. I got few beatings that, I thought, I deserved because I intentionally rubbed the shampoo despite repeated request from Prabhu to avoid his knees. Looking
back, I am angry for those beatings because I must have been too young, 9-10 years old, to be assigned the task of bathing him.

Prabhu was a very good looking child. I recall him with his clean shaven head covered with homemade sandalwood paste. In my mind no one without hair ever looked that cute and handsome. He had a perfectly round head without blemish. Throughout my childhood, I recall appreciating his perfect round sandalwood head in a black and white picture taken by my Dad during his Mundan ceremony.

“May your kids be lost in exhibitions” is a common curse aired by underprivileged women in South India. Prabhu was only 3 years old when he strayed away from the family attracted by the spectacular red sky created by the rather routine pouring of the molten waste from the nearby steel industry. The fairground was on the bottom of the artificial mountain created by years of industrial waste. Soon my Mom realized that Prabhu was missing. My elder brother and I went one direction and everyone else picked different directions to maximize the odds of finding him. It was hard to locate him not only because he was little but he had just taken off his pants and shirt that can easily differentiate him from other children in the red twilight. As I walked fast, Prabhu found me and called me to show the red sky that he was still fascinated without realizing that he was lost. Looking back, I think he was never lost and he knew exactly where we were.

Why the summer Sun in Jamshedpur, where we were born and raised, so cruel on Prabhu, I never know. The typical summer temperature in Jamshedpur can be as high as 110 F. Almost every day during summer I found Prabhu lying in my Mom’s bed with wet towel on his bleeding nose and aching head. Looking back, considering the torching heat of Jamshedpur, the more appropriate thing to wonder, is why none of the others had bleeding nose.

I recall walking him to school, which was located more than a mile from our home in Golmuri. I would often stay there until the school was over to avoid walking back and forth with those little feet of ours. Don’t mistake this ‘waiting’ is not like waiting for someone in Starbucks with a coffee and a cookie in hand. Waiting for him would be actually like waiting for him outside the school gate for 3-4 hours under the burning sun.

Prabhu loved to tease Bhu and Shanker and vice versa. It was December of 2000. We were all converging in Palm Spring, LA for Bhu’s wedding. Bhu was getting married to Dina. Prabhu had seen Bhu’s high school girl friend, Russi, when he lived with us in Seattle. Prabhu was looking forward to meeting Rassi as a bride. He was shocked to see Dina instead. In his classic teasing tone Prabhu asked Bhu in front of everyone “What happened, did you dump her?”

Prabhu like to name all of Shanker’s friends who used to sleep over at our place when Shanker was young. One of his friends Chris was the most common weekend visitor to our Kirkland house. Prabhu used to refer to him as Katchu. Every time we talked about Shanker, Prabhu will enquire about Katchu. Recently, a month before he passed away, we told Prabhakar that Shankar works in New York. We emphasized that he works hard to imply that Prabhu need to go out and get active as well. However, Prabhu was too stunned to believe it. He said “Enna, nambave mudiyallai”

I had just found a nice spot to plant an apple tree, which I had bought the previous day. I was dreaming of plucking apples when they are raw and making pickles. However, it slipped my mind to inform Prabhu to water the
apple tree during his routine watering sessions. I have never seen any one perform the daily chores with such respect and pride. Out of all the chores he loved watering the garden at 2:00 PM after lunch. Note that the plants
are required to be watered during the day in Seattle so that the plants can absorb water before the evening chill. Few weeks after planting the apple tree, I went to see if there were new sprouts on the tree. To my shock I found a stubborn stem pointing up in the ground with no tree. I hopelessly kept enquiring everyone at home, except Prabhu. One day I was complaining to Prabhu about the unfortunate fate of the apple tree, being fully sure that he had nothing to do with it. Prabhu told me that he had cut the tree because it was in the way of his routine watering path. It was then I realized how bad the spot was for that apple tree.

Prabhu really cared about everyone around him. He was especially good with kids. When we moved to Madurai in the summer of 1982, I had taken Prabhu with me. Shanker, then only 18 months, was very unhappy with the new surrounding and literally freaked out whenever he saw new faces visiting our flat. Few weeks after our move our gas stove was not working and we had a guy come-in to fix that. Shanker got very friendly with him and was shocked to find that the repair man showed no excitement. He fruitlessly ran around that guy few times trying to get his attention. Prabhu and I observed this and looked at each other with pleasant surprise. My face turned into a question mark. Prabhu read my mind and said that the guy looks like the guy who did baby sitting in Chennai. I look at that guy again to only acknowledge Prabhu was right. Prabhu was able to see that repair man from Shanker’s eye, which I didn’t and couldn’t do.

Prabhu was so good with kids. Remember that kid Kanhaiya in Richmond? Prabhu really cared about him. He used to help our parent’s baby sitting that kid. He loved playing with kids. Often kids teased Prabhu and got his beatings back. Since you never complained, parents of those kids blamed Prabhu for hitting them for no good reason. Some even named Prabhu crazy. Our own family is no exception to this:(

“I wouldn’t spitty in your coffee any more” so goes the saying for people who are very patient and whose tolerance is tested beyond limits. Prabhu was living with Hema for few months when our parents were in London to take care of Lucky. The house owner’s kids would constantly harass Prabhu by dropping jute thread from the balcony everytime they saw him standing below the balcony. Prabhu was very patient for few days. However, I admire his courage to get back at them by deflating their cycle tire.

Prabhu traveled with me to Madras after my wedding on July 6, 1975. Since Lucky went to dorm at Ranchi and Madhu/Raju left Jamshedpur for higher education in the West Coast, you were sent with me to spend time in
Chennai with Sarojini and me. I still wonder how Amma and Appa dare to send you with me, when I myself was new to both Chennai and the
family I was moving in to. I must have loved you, as I recall no uneasy feelings in my mind during the days you stayed with me in Shenoy Nagar. Looking back, I am impressed with my confidence in handling the situation. Long after you left Chennai, Priya will still refer to you as someone who “Visk Thadavindu Toonguvane?” (the one who went to bed after rubbing
Visk (Vicks)?).

Prabhu cared about everyone around him and he had his own way of communicating this to others. Often his actions were disregarded. Prabhu threw Srinivasan’s cigarette box from the car window when we were relocating to Madurai. I didn’t think it was a big deal. However, I saw Srinivasan express his anger for the first time, like the rage a mother would feel if her kids were hurt. You did that for his benefit. How nice of you. If he had left smoking that day, he wouldn’t be having the present health problems.

I remember the first time Prabhu had epileptic attack. I was so scared. I had never seen anything like it. However, everyone around knew exactly what to do including Padmini. No one will tell me what happened. Things were never the same for him since that incidence. Everyone started treating you nicely because for the first time your condition took more visible signs that even a fool could understand and even I could understand. What was assumed as your lack of obedience and respect could now be explained.

I always admired his communication strength. One day, after that unfortunate epileptic attack, he came home and told Mom that he could no longer grasp concepts in science and would rather study arts subjects. In a family, where three of my sisters were doctors, two borothers as engineers and two in pure sciences, this was a shock. I am glad you were able to express your experiences so clearly. You did end up doing economics.

Prabhu, please forgive me for yelling at you when you stood still on the doorway of our Madurai home during a routine power outage and I accidentally ran into you with Shanker in my hand. It was only after you had an epileptic attack that night I realized that you had missed your medication for 2 full days because I was too busy from shifting from one home to the other.

Padmini was so upset after seeing her newly born baby brother, Prabhu, in the hospital. Her complaint was serious. She was upset because Prabhu was so fair and she was not. My aunt Darma, whose presence in our
house was as constant as day and night, consoled my sister by saying that Prabhu will get darker when exposed to the Sun. Now we know it was a sweet lie to calm my upset sister.

The wake of modern medicine and tremendous progress in genetic research has only strengthened the notion that “you win some and you loose some”. People physically challenged in one faculty automatically grow sharper in other. Prabhu’s athletic skills were uniquely sharp and worth mentioning. I recall a still summer day during our childhood
when several kids were trying to throw stones at the ripe mangos. Prabhu kept watching them for a long time and decided to try it. To everyone’s surprise, his first stone, decisively, brought two mangos down.

Prabhu you recall how you used to help Amma with her untimely demands for buttermilk, chips and other snacks. Shanker even made a nice poem that exaggerated these demands. ” Konjon more kudu da, ye chumma iru da, Chips kondu va da, ye juice Kudu, Adi venuma da? Konjom peshama iru.” This became a standard recital for both Shanker and Bhu. So much laughter around the house everyday when You were with us.

You were the bravest in our family when it came to dealing with our parents. The first time I heard swear words are from you. In fact, the only swear words I know in hindi are from you. I have to say, I am so jealous of you. You expressed yourself in many ways. However, we thought you didn’t communicate your ailments. Looking back, I realize that by swearing you really communicated loudly that one is crossing their limit. So sad that we wanted you to complaint and you wanted to be brave and be treated like others.

“Billy Ka Bache” (A cat’s child) and “Ulloo Ke Bache” (An owl’s child) are loud unanticipated, ungodly outburst that will slip Prabhu’s tongue as if involuntarily. Bhu and Shanker will often repeat after him. This was a skill Prabhu had mastered over years to hide his untimely burps after lunch or dinner. Probably this skill evolved as a survival pressure to avoid getting yelled at by Mom for lack of manners at the dinner table. Common yelling for burping on the dining table included “Do you have to eat until the burp comes out?” In the modern days of plenty and in some cultures, this doesn’t sound so bad for someone to develop such skills. In Japan, a dinner guest has to burp at the end of dinner as a respect to the host. However, when and where we were growing up, eating until you burp was considered lack of concern for others who may be starving.

Who would have ever thought that the only person out of the eight to support my parents financially, emotionally and physically in the past several years of their lives would be Prabhu. Who would have guessed Prabhu’s death could trigger financial, emotional and physical stress on my parents. His death cast a gloom on my parents sufficient for them to wind down their independent living and move 2000 miles to California.

Brahmapadyay Mukherji was his doctor when Prabhu was young. The doctor suggested that he had some heart condition. However, the full extent of his medical condition did not get diagnosed until he was 10 years old. In 1964, my eldest sister, Padmini, finished medical degree and took Prabhu to Patna for a full physical examination. We learn, for the first time that he had ASD, a congenital condition of the heart and that he may only
live 40 years. This made my Dad really sad. He tried to treat him as normal as possible.

We lost Prabhu in 1991 during our visit to Calcutta. The five hours that lapsed since we noticed him missing and the time we located him six miles away from our base. Those were dreadful hours. My aunt, Dad’s youngest sister, had given 50 Rs to all of us as gift. Prabhu joined the next group of shoppers leaving the base to get batteries for his radio. After walking for 0.5 miles, which included a left turn, Prabhu decided to return to the base trusting the group with his money. Unfortunately, the parked taxi at the turn, Prabhu’s landmark, had moved before Prabhu got there.
Four hours since this departure from the group, we noticed him missing. Everyone panicked and flew in all directions. I recall my own hopeless feeling and a chill down my spine when Padmini and I gave his name and
photograph to the local TV channel for immediate broadcast. Prabhu was located walking aimlessly on a road that would eventually have taken him to Hema’s place.

I felt the saddest when I was made aware that Prabhu has been routinely harassed by thugs during his high school years. It was only after Raju boasting about his heroic defense launched by him against those thugs that
we knew how much Prabhu had to face silently. He never complained. He bore everything without saying a word until his lung almost stop breathing. The morning before his lung stop breathing, we were still trying to get him up from bed to take him to a day care facility, where he was admitted few weeks ago to get trained to live on his own. My Dad noticed his breathing, which was unusually strained and shallow. Prabhu took everything that was imposed to him both by nature and by his family. He knew we loved him dearly. Perhaps, he knew we harassed him because
we loved him.

The first sign of his congenital illness was visible when Prabhu was a child. He resisted solid food. My Dad had to stock up on Horlicks, a kind of malt drink popular in India. The extent of this problem was clear from the number of those glass containers that we had accumulated in our kitchen. These containers stayed with us until we left 4 Jhelam Road. I am not sure if Diwakar still has some of those containers. If I can find some I will cherish.

Prabhu used to repeat some unusual words often. One that I recall was “Kadamkode”. Prabhu will introduce such terms and we all followed him by pronouncing it often. I think he was pronouncing some very common phrase the way he heard it. I recall Bhu, my son, dance around the house making his own tune and crying “Mulkuponi”. It took us a long time to figure out he was saying “My little Poni”. So I am racking my brian to find out what “Kadamkode” meant.