“Did you again go through my stuff?” shouted my from his room.
I ran straight to my mother knowing perfectly well what was going to happen next. Similarly, my brother also knew what I was about to do. He moved like a lightning from his room and caught me before I could reach Ma. Pulling at my pigtails, he asked me again, “If you don‘t return my diary to where it belonged, it would be the last mistake of your life!”

Before he could say anything more, our mother arrived at the spot and pulled both our ears. “What did I do to deserve brats like you two. There is no moment peace when both the together.”

Making an innocent face that would put angels to shame, I wiped crocodile’s tear. I could see from the corners of my eyes that my brother still looked at me threateningly. Yes, I had taken his diary from his bag. How could I resist not reading his thoughts? The information I extracted about the girl that he was in love with was more entertaining than anything I had read so far. It was worth the fight!

(9 years later)

“Next time I see you with that guitarist or anywhere near his friends, I am going to skin you alive,” my now 23-year-old brother still treated me like a kid although I was just a year away from donning the graduation hat. He had a problem with every boy in my class.

“Oh! give me a break. He is my boyfriend,” I shouted back at him.

“What did you say?” he yelled. “I am going to break his neck.”


There is nothing that we haven’t fought about. My most dreaded moment was when he used his biggest weapon, “You are an adopted daughter”. Knowing very well that I was my parent’s biological daughter, the silly remark still used to send me crying. Or his threats about beating me to a pulp in front of my friends still makes me uncomfortable.

I had my share of fun too. Telling mother about his girlfriends. Also, blackmailing him to buy gifts for me when he had to buy gifts for his girlfriends. It was fun, right? At least, for me!


No matter how much we fought or for how long we refused to talk to each other, no one knew me better than my brother. He could complete a sentence that I just started. We would laugh at jokes even without saying it out loud because we can read each other’s thoughts.

Although we fought, it only made our stronger. On days when my parents were angry at me for returning home late, my brother would be angrier. He would shout at me before my parents could say anything. I would silently retreat to my room with my brother following my heels closely. “You should have at least dropped me a message. I would have given them an excuse!” I knew he acted angry only to save me from my parents’ outburst.

We scratched each other’s back. But we also watched each other’s back. We fought with each other but we also fought for the other against the world.

Had it not been for my brother, I would not have been the happy and successful person that I am today!

-By R Kashyap
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