BROTHERLY LOVE

I have a brother who is 3 years younger than me. I wanted to buy a handkerchief, which all girls around me seemed to have. So, one day I stole 50 cents from my father's drawer. Father had discovered about the stolen money right away. He made me and my younger brother kneel against the wall as he held a bamboo stick in his hand. 'Who stole the money?' he asked. I was stunned, too afraid to talk. Neither of us admitted to the fault, so he said, 'Fine, if nobody wants to admit, you two should be beaten!' He lifted up the bamboo stick. Suddenly, my younger brother gripped father's hand and said, Dad, I was the one who did it!'

The long stick smacked my brother's back repeatedly. Father was so angry that he kept on whipping my brother until he lost his breath. After that, he sat down on our stone bed and scolded my brother, 'You have learned to steal from your own house now. What other embarrassing things will you are possibly doing in the future?
You should be beaten to death, you shameless thief!' That night, my mother and I hugged my brother. His body was full of wounds from the beating but he never shed a single tear. In the middle of the night, all of sudden, I cried out loudly. My brother covered my mouth with his little hand and said, Sis, now don't cry anymore. Everything has happened.' I still hate myself for not having enough courage to admit what I did. Years went by, but the incident still seemed like it just happened yesterday.

I will never forget my brother's expression when he protected me. That year, my brother was 8 years old and I was 11 years old. When my brother was in his last year of secondary school, he was accepted in an upper secondary school in the central. At the same time, I was accepted into a university in the province. That night, father squatted in the yard, smoking, packet by packet. I could hear him ask my mother, 'Both of our children, they have good results? Very good results?' Mother wiped off her tears and sighed,' What is the use? How can we possibly finance both of them?'

At that time, my brother walked out, he stood in front of father and said, 'Dad, I don't want to continue my study anymore, I have read enough books.' Father swung his hand and slapped my brother on his face. 'Why do you have a spirit so damn weak? Even if it means I have to beg for money on the streets, I will send you two to school until you have both finished your studies!' And then, he started to knock on every house in the village to borrow money. I stuck out my hand as gently as I can to my brother's swollen face, and told him, 'A boy has to continue his study; if not; he will not be able to overcome this poverty we are experiencing. ' I, on the other hand, had decided not to further my study at the university. Nobody knew that on the next day, before dawn, my brother left the house with a few pieces of worn-out clothes and a few dry beans. He sneaked to my side of the bed and left a note on my pillow; 'Sis, getting into a university is not easy. I will go find a job and I will send money to you.' I held the note while sitting on my bed, and cried until I lost my voice. That year, my brother was 17 years old; I was 20 years old. With the money father borrowed from the whole village, and the money my brother earned from carrying cement on his back at a construction site, finally, I managed to get to the third year of my study in the university.

One day, while I was studying in my room, my roommate came in and told me, 'There's a villager waiting for you outside!' Why would there be a villager looking for me? I walked out, and I saw my brother from afar. His whole body was covered with dirt, dust, cement and sand. I asked him, 'Why did you not tell my roommate that you are my brother?' He replied with a smile,' Look at my appearance. What will they think if they would know that I am your brother? Won't they laugh at you?' I felt so touched, and tears filled my eyes. I swept away dirt and dust from my brother's body. And told him with a lump in my throat, 'I don't care what people would say! You are my brother no matter what your appearance is?' From his pocket, he took out a butterfly hair clip. He put it on my hair and said, 'I saw all the girls in town are wearing it. So, I think you should also have one.' I could not hold back myself anymore. I pulled my brother into my arms and cried. That year, my brother was 20 years old; I was 23 years old. I noticed that the broken window was repaired the first time I brought my boyfriend home. The house was scrubbed cleaned. After my boyfriend left, I danced like a little girl in front of my mother, 'Mom, you didn't have to spend so much time cleaning the house!' But she told me with a smile, 'It was your brother who went home early to clean the house. Didn't you see the wound on his hand? He hurt his hand while he was replacing the window.' I went into my brother's bedroom. Looking at his thin face, I felt like hundreds of needles pricked in my heart. I applied some ointment on his wound and put a bandage on it, 'Does it hurt?' I asked him.. 'No, it doesn't hurt. You know, when at the construction site, stones keep falling on my feet ...Even that could not stop me from working.' In the middle of the sentence, he stopped.

I turned my back on him and tears rolled down my face. In the middle of the sentence, he stopped. I turned my back on him and tears rolled down my face. That year, my brother was 23 years old; I was 26 years old. After I got married, I lived in the city. Many times my h...usband invited my parents to come and live with us, but they didn't want. They said, once they left the village, they wouldn't know what to do. My brother agreed with them. He said, 'Sis, you just take care of your parents-in-law. I will take care of Mom and Dad here.' My husband became the director of his factory. We asked my brother to accept the offer of being the manager in the maintenance department. But my brother rejected the offer. He insisted on working as a repairman instead for a start. One day, my brother was on the top of a ladder repairing a cable, when he got electrocuted, and was sent to the hospital.

My husband and I visited him at the hospital. Looking at the plaster cast on his leg, I grumbled, 'Why did you reject the offer of being a manager? Managers won't do something dangerous like that. Now look at you - you are suffering a serious injury. Why didn't you just listen to us?' With a serious expression on his face, he defended his decision, 'Think of brother-in-law. He just became the director, and I being uneducated, and would become a manager, what kind of rumors would fly around?' My husband's eyes filled up with tears, and then I said, 'But you lack in education only because of me!' 'Why do you talk about the past?' he said and then he held my hand. That year, he was 26 years old and I was 29 years old. My brother was 30 years old when he married a farmer girl from the village. During the wedding reception, the master of ceremonies asked him, 'Who is the one person you respect and love the most?' Without even taking a time to think, he answered,' My sister.' He continued by telling a story I could not even remember. 'When I was in primary school, the school was in a different village. Everyday, my sister and I would walk for 2 hours to school and back home.

One day, I lost the other pair of my gloves. My sister gave me one of hers. She wore only one glove and she had to walk far. When we got home, her hands were trembling because of the cold weather that she could not even hold her chopsticks. From that day on, I swore that as long as I live, I would take care of my sister and will always be good to her.' Applause filled up the room. All guests turned their attention to me. I found it hard to speak, 'In my whole life, the one I would like to thank most is my brother, 'And in this happy occasion, in front of the crowd, tears were rolling down my face again.

STORY MORAL: Love and care for the one you love every single day of your life. You may think what you did is just a small deed, but to that someone, it may means a lot.

A fighter called Siddharth

Siddharth G J's mother and father are proud parents. And that's not because of his masters in economics with distinction. The 24-year-old has faced tougher tests, fought bigger bogeys and crossed higher hurdles with his indomitable fighting spirit.

Siddharth has cerebral palsy.

In medical-speak, that means an affliction caused by the cut-off of oxygen to the brain at the time of birth or early infancy. It irreversibly damages the communication between the brain and muscles, resulting in lack of coordination in muscular movements and defects in posture.

In real life, it means being considered mentally retarded, being looked down upon, and being refused admission in colleges and jobs despite an outstanding academic record.

Siddharth's battles with fate began early. He had jaundice when he was three days old, and was unconscious for three days. "As he grew, and did not show the usual landmarks in development, we knew there was something wrong. It was an extremely shocking news for us," says his mother Komala.

Some doctors in Bangalore told Komala and her husband Jayakumar that their son was 'mentally retarded.' "We knew from his responses that he was as intelligent as any other child – if not more – but that was what the doctors said."

Siddharth's early childhood was not the usual one with friends and schoolmates. For eight years, he stayed at home. A neighbour worked with a special school run by the Spastic Society of India [ Images ], and Siddharth got admission there. "The first thing they taught me was how to use a typewriter. I typed with one finger, and even today, I type with one finger. Except math, I started doing all my school work on my typewriter," says a smiling Sidhharth. His school followed a different syllabus for each student, depending on his/her ability. So, Siddharth was sent to standard II from upper kindergarten.

Sidhharth's father Jayakumar got transferred to Chennai. Siddharth now had to get used to a new school, a new environment and new challenges. "I remember I cried when we left Bangalore," he says. He studied at Vidyasagar, now a well-known school for spastic children. "It was not as big as it is now," says Siddharth. "I have no words to describe Vidyasagar's role in my son's life," says his mother.

When he finished standard VIII, the school authorities felt Siddharth should go to a regular school. Before Siddharth, they had sent just one other boy to a regular school. "I also feel disabled people should be studying in regular schools because generally other children, and even adults, are not aware of the disabled. The attitude of the public is that the disabled can't do anything. Only when more and more disabled children are integrated into regular schools will society understand us," says Sidhharth.

"Initially, it was very difficult for me. Writing, people, the workload…it was difficult to interact; I felt miserable." In his standard X board exams, Siddharth took assistance to write his answers. But the government sends people who are not proficient in math and science, and "there were times I had to dictate letter by letter," says Siddharth. That did not stop him from scoring 98 percent in his favourite subject, math. He opted for commerce, and in his standard XII board exams, scored 90 percent.

Happily ever after? Far from it, says Siddharth. "Vivekananda College, where I applied, looked at me and refused to look at my academic performance. I was very upset. I asked myself, why are these people not looking at my marks? Why are they looking at my disability?"

Siddharth's father spoke to the Vivekananda College principal, and also his teacher at Vidyasagar, Deepthi Bhatia, who is blind. "I assured the principal that he [Siddharth] would be an asset to the college," says Jayaram..

College for Siddharth was again a different experience. "Many students didn't know how to deal with disabled people like me. It is not that many of them didn't want to make friends with me. They didn't know how to approach me. As I am a shy person, I also couldn't initiate conversation."

Despite "sleeping in most of the classes," Siddharth's brilliance shone. He scored 100 percent in management accountancy and computer science – the only one in his batch to do so – with an overall 74 percent in Bcom.

Siddharth wanted to do his masters in social work from the prestigious Loyola College. "I was denied admission to the course I wanted: MSW. They decided that I would not be able to do MSW because of my disability. I was angry. How could somebody else decide for me? They refused to listen to my arguments. Luckily, I had also applied for MA in Economics. Though it was disappointing to miss out MSW, I joined the college."

He thought his struggles ended with getting a postgraduate degree with distinction. That was not to be. When he applied for jobs, people did not look at his academic record or ability; they saw only his physical disability. A family friend asked Siddharth to join his public relations agency.

"Ma'am, all those press releases you received from Prism till a month ago were written by me," Siddharth says, smiling. With his first salary, he bought a pair of shoes for his father and gave the rest of the money to his mother.

But Siddharth wanted a job on merit. "I continued applying to several places. All of them called me because of my resume. I used to perform well in the aptitude tests also but the moment they saw me at the interview panel, they would say, 'We will get back to you.'"

"Big companies like Infosys and TCS appeared satisfied with my technical knowledge in economics but they did not get back to me. They don't trust people with disability. This distrust is very, very bad," says a visibly angry Sidhharth.

At a job fair where there was a separate section for the disabled, Siddharth gave an aptitude test for ABN Amro Bank. "They were very co-operative. I passed the test."

At the interview, Siddharth spoke about himself. "They were stunned. On the spot they said you are selected. I felt damn good! They didn't tell me what my job would be but I told them I didn't want a data entry job. I told them I was looking for a research-oriented job. They were very receptive. For the first time, somebody realised my potential."

Surabhi Nikumbha, one of three on the interview panel, says, "We just listened to him [Siddharth], rather his story, for 45 minutes. We just couldn't ask a single question. All three of us were stunned. We didn't even know how to react. It was an amazing experience.

"His academic performance was exceptional, and you should see the way he answered our aptitude test. We were also impressed to find him so independent. He came on his own, did everything on his own. His department tells us that he is excellent in his work. He is an asset to us. We are proud to have him in our organisation."

Today Siddharth G J, officer trainee, ABN Amro Bank, examines import and export documents for compliance with international standards of documentation. "I am enjoying every moment of it. People at ABN Amro trust me wholeheartedly. It is just a beginning for me," says our hero. And he still writes poems. "No, they are not for publishing. They are very, very personal," he says.

"Children like him need only love, affection and encouragement; not sympathy," says his mother.

http://in.rediff.com/news/2005/mar/30spec.htm