My Younger Brother is Elder to me

The number game.

Hey guys I am back!!!! This time I have a riddle for you. I am born on 3rd of March while my brother is born on 1st of March ... Who do you think is the older one?

First of March..... Right??? My brother of course.... I knew it but it was difficult to make my family understand. They say it’s me. Come on, is it logical?  Third coming before First….. And this convincing had not started recently. From the earliest memory I have, when I was in the first grade to my 5^th, I have tried hard to convince. My brother's birthday cake came first then mine so how is it possible that I am the older one is my question.

I asked my mother, I was 8 then. She was the safer bet compared to my father for I was sure I wouldn't get a whack but even she did not have an answer, I think, but she smiled ... My Sherlock Holmes mind tried to decipher her smile. Was she hiding something? Another birthday passed and I was none the wiser. My hundred dollar doubt still continued. Why was I not the younger one? Now my stubbornness to prove my point had another perspective. The younger ones are the pampered lot. I have seen it among my cousins and even in my home. Only at our house my parents had got there numbering wrong. Third March comes after first. A casual remark from a relative ignited a spark "They look so similar, they could just pass for twins"... yes that's the answer... Our height weight and physique matched because we were twins.

 The study of science brought in some disappointing revelation. How could my mother give birth on 1st and then also on 3rd. So 'twins'..... No we were not. Then what was the surprise elemental. Being staunch Christians we children were taught Bible and prayers. We knew we could turn to God to solve a dilemma. As a 9 year old child, I regularly studied the bible. During one of the discourse, I had an enlightenment. 'I am a divine birth'  like my God above... that could  explain, my mother giving birth to me on 3rd after her 'normal' child on 1st. I felt elated... Yes that could be a possibility. So what if nobody called my mother Mary ...my father was Joseph.

Armed with my new information I was ready to face my demons. I have an answer to how my mother could give birth in a span of two days..... But my basic doubt still persisted..... How am I the elder one?

That was then, 3 decades earlier 31 years to be exact. Another March 3rd is fast approaching. I still muse over those childlike days when numbers never mattered. There was no logic in years. Innocent questions were asked and concluded innocently. I wonder whether children today would have such queries because if they do I have the answer now. I would say "it's all in the mind....it's a number game called years"

My brother who is elder to me by a date is younger to me by 3 years. Happy birthday dear brother and me too!!!!!

***

Cheating...... Present Continuous

Trrringgg...... damn the alarm clock. I fumbled up to the off button and turned it off. Alarm clocks cheat you .You are forced to leave your dreams. I wanted to be away from reality for some more time. I glared at it .It confirmed the authentic time, unafraid. I was 10 minutes late for my morning walk. Being a punctual person I did not want to get up after the expected time so decided not to exercise. After all punctuality is a preferred value. I shouldn't cheat on that, should I?

I had around 45 minutes till my next task. I better not waste my time. I turned over, slid under the covers and promptly went back to my dreams couldn't cheat my dreams, could I?

'Shaving ‘day only added to the trauma of time management .I guess I did it yesterday or was it the day before. I ran my finger on my cheek and the short stables told a different story. I am not lazy, somebody has remarked that I have a careless carefree look. So now I have a French beard....I shave...what if ..  it's just half the face. I shouldn't cheat with my looks.

My punctuality has stood the test of time. I have never been caught late. I was always punctual else absent which was 75% of the time. The one thing I Pride myself is about my stint in various organisations I have worked. All of them needed me, they have never kicked me out, I have left because they did not deserve me. I couldn't cheat myself I justified. For me the grass was always greener on the other side Be it work or relation I was forever waiting for the grass to turn green I went out with 4 parallely and was never able to decide which one and  waited for the next one. I can't believe all of them left ... I mean How could they!!! I cheated myself into believing that the next one will bring the spring. Finally now I am growing my own greenery... I cheat with watering though!!!!

At least my friends are real. 500 of them from 12 countries but still faceless. In their Pursuit the faces around me, the real ones, dwindled and became faceless as Facebook. As the number of faces on my Facebook increased, the faces around me decreased but I still held on to 'Faceless Ness', I wouldn't cheat my friends, the virtual ones.

God is witness to the fact that I have never entered the church late. It is either on time or never. Churches have their own   time table unmindful of people like me. It even clashed with my Sunday movie show time. I had to take a stand. I decided to switch God. Internet became my new God. I religiously bowed my head on the alter.. You see.... internet never asked me to be on time so there was no cheating.

Another challenge was my doctor and health. I always go by what I have learnt. Being a very selective listener I only hear what applies to me..... laughter is the best medicine.... then why trouble yourself to a doctor... laugh your way to health. Experience tells me that the best laugh is after you are drunk, time-tested, tried and succeeded method I was so right to replace my doctor with the drinks I drank and laughed and I got rid of everything sadness, stress, troubles and finally friends and money.....but I still laugh to be healthy.

It is said 'where you are in life today is a result of series of decisions you have taken throughout' so here I am today, handling all life situations honestly and not cheating my way in life. I believe very few in the world can be as upright as me.

I hate writing but here I write

  "You're English is good" someone replied to the naughty one liner I had sent across on a chat. Here I was waiting for a similar repartee from my latest love interest and the only thing she had to say was that my English is good.

"Why don't you try your hand at writing" she continued.

I am open to light flirting but surely not Advisors .I concluded the chat with a customary thanks ....not interested anymore. Females have this unique capability of thrusting their opinions, advices suggestions, compliments all rolled into one and expecting it to be obeyed.

 I comply but only in the opposite direction. I cannot write, I hate to write .Choosing philosophical words adding a dose of psychology and flowery language is what we call literature. I am plain lazy. Who does it? Other than the likes of Shakespeare or Wordsworth, I can’t, I won't. I believe, to be a good writer, or let's just leave the epithet out, to be a writer we need to be a reader. I am a reader but my reading habits start with Facebook and ends on WhatsApp. Then who can I attribute my good English to.

Looking back I recollect my schooling. Definitely my teachers had a hand in my vocabulary .I tried to place myself back in my school days. I saw the little boy of 10 reading in the library after school hours. Hmmmm.....I guess I used to read. I was all independent by the age of fifteen. A new state, new language and hostel changed the reader into a more action oriented person. Reading was long forgotten but not the words. Furthermore it has always been my words and not my actions which has saved me in many life situations.

My first love letter was rejected so I presume I did not write well. The same love letter was used by my friend as well, still rejection I gave up writing. Speech is better I concluded. I struck gold when I realised my potential of using words to woo. My first flirt, my first job, my first love all came to me without Much Ado ....courtesy my perfect timing of the much needed vocabulary.

The world of Technology brought in many more features for entities like me. I learnt computers and here I opened the Treasure house of dreams and all the possibilities with it. Typing become faster, to the extent that I could think and type in sync. It was more authentic not made up at all. I did not stop for a moment to think.... words just flowed. I became a chat master. Lazy, but still open to a good chat. I even learnt to use emoticons suitably. I still Pride myself on 4 live Windows and a perfect chat accuracy and none have ever realise my multitasking.

Eventually I realised I am not a writer but a typer (typist to be accurate)... I can type well but I cannot write well. I can sit with a pen in my hand for hours and never put a word across. Words fail me when my tool is a pen and the same words brim and spill all over on Chat sessions. Small compliments, motivations, reinforcements took the toll on me and I wanted a bigger platform to perform my music ....writing, rather typing. This new interest propelled me to be a blogger. I unleashed the creativity in me. I am a lover of beauty, anything beautiful excites me. So I designed a beautiful blog page for me. And now hope creativity is at its best. Friends, loved ones, wished me well, in my endeavour to find the perfect place for my vocabulary. What can I tell them ... just this…?

 I hate to write but here I write.