Where's Your Brother?

By Ashwini Shajan

I was six and studying in the 1st std. One morning, my mother woke up and found out that I had a mild fever. She decided not to send me to school that day. My little brother was still a baby then, about 9 months old. Every other day, before me and my parents left for school and work respectively, they left my brother at his sitter’s. The lady who took care of my brother was also a family friend, and her house was just opposite to ours.

That day too, the day I was sick, my parents dropped my brother at the sitter’s home. They requested the lady to look after me too, as I was ill and then they left for work. I didn’t want to stay there. There were too many crawling and noisy kids. I watched them half-chewing the food they ate and spitting it out. I sat quietly in a corner, feeling rather annoyed at my parents. Then I spotted my brother on the bed. I saw the other kids around him. The lady was in the kitchen, mixing milk and powdered biscuits for my brother.

I went up to him. He smiled at me, and I suddenly felt sorry that he had to sleep in such a condition. Without a thought, I carried him, opened the door, and ran home. Once I reached, I locked the door. Five minutes later, the babysitter called on our landline. She asked me where my brother was. I lied to her saying I didn’t know. She told me she was coming home and hung up.

I did not stop to think. I lifted my sleeping brother, carefully placed him inside a cupboard and shut it. Two minutes later, the doorbell rang. I hesitatingly opened the door; it was the sitter with an anxious, angry face. I watched her frantically searching all the rooms.

Suddenly guilt overcame me, and I told her that my brother was in the cupboard. She stared at me with wide eyes and went to get the baby. I didn’t understand why she didn’t make a scene. She did inform my parents, but my little self never understood why even they chose to spare me.

Even to this day, I and my parents talk about how I hid my poor brother in my mother’s cupboard, and we laugh our stomachs out as we remember it.

By Ashwini Shajan