Bhai, I don’t know if I have the right to even say your name now, but I miss you. I miss you in ways I never thought I would. I miss you in the small, everyday moments—the way we used to fight over the TV remote, the way you’d steal the last piece of roti just to annoy me, the way you’d ruffle my hair even when I screamed at you not to. I miss you in the big moments too—the festivals where your absence feels like a gaping hole, the family gatherings where no one laughs quite the same way anymore.
I wish I could go back, rewind time, and tell my younger self to be kinder to you. I was always the stubborn one, wasn’t I? Always fighting, always arguing, always proving a point. And you? You were the one who let it go. You were the one who smiled, who compromised, who made peace before I was even ready to. I took that for granted. I took you for granted.
I think of the nights when we lay side by side, whispering in the dark, planning our futures. You used to say, “Jab bada hoga na, tu tension mat lena. Main hoon na.” And I believed you. I believed that no matter what happened, no matter how much we fought, you would always be there. I never once thought about what life would be like if you weren’t.
And then one day, you weren’t.
Bhai, I never told you how proud I was of you. How much I admired you, even when I pretended not to. You were always the stronger one, the braver one, the one who never hesitated to stand up for me, for anyone who needed you. I should have said it then. I should have hugged you more, fought with you less. I should have told you that you mattered to me more than anything in this world.
I remember the last time we spoke. It was something so trivial, so meaningless. I don’t even remember what I said, only that it wasn’t enough. Not enough to tell you how much I loved you. Not enough to make up for all the times I took you for granted. Not enough to bring you back.
Now, I sit in your empty room, looking at the trophies you left behind, the old school notebooks with your handwriting, the T-shirt you forgot to take with you. I hold onto these things because they are all I have left. They are proof that you were here, that you lived, that you were mine—even if only for a while.
Maa still keeps your plate out during dinner. Papa doesn’t talk much these days, but I see it in his eyes—the way he looks at your chair, the way he still waits for your voice to fill the silence. They say time heals, but Bhai, it hasn’t. It only reminds us of how much we have lost.
I don’t know if you can hear me, if you are watching from somewhere above. But if you are, please know that I am sorry. Sorry for all the fights, for all the times I didn’t stand by you the way you stood by me, for all the words left unsaid. I hope you knew, in your heart, that you were loved. That you still are.
Mere Bhai, you were my first friend, my protector, my home. And no matter how much time passes, I will carry you with me. Always.