One Day At A Time

Chapter Twenty Three - Through The Wringer(3)

It is my wish and dream that every time my Chhotu touches the strings of this guitar, he touches a million hearts...
With you, with all my love..always,
Bhai

The hands holding the card shook slightly, and the shocked eyes read the words written in beautiful handwriting over and over again. The legs gave away like a marionette, and he subsided slowly on the floor of his room. He ripped open the glossy wrapping paper which had a large red ribbon bow attached to it and his breath hitched as he stared at the guitar of his dreams glimmering in front of him. Everything, from the colour, the make of the guitar and the accessories, was the way he had always wanted it to be. It was perfect. His eyes then lingered on a particular point on the guitar a bit longer than usual. Every positive emotion he had felt towards his brother, which had been buried even before he allowed himself to feel it, found a release that instant.... for all he could see in front of him was his name, beautifully engraved at the base of the guitar..his guitar.

Kabeer

The world spun around him as a long lost memory wriggled itself out from the bunch of many such diligently fastened ones buried deep within his heart.

It had been a rainy night many months ago when Kabir had had one too many to drink for the first time in his life at Aarav's birthday bash at his farmhouse. At the end of the party, a heavily drunk Aarav had made a desperate call to Arnav and summoned him to take Kabir home. With embarrassed and apologetic eyes, Aarav and his driver had helped Arnav walk Kabir up to the waiting rickshaw with great difficulty.

During the entire ride from the farmhouse to their home, Kabir, in his inebriated state, had tried convincing Arnav that his name was spelt as 'Kabeer' and that even his name had 'beer' in it and that he had every right to drink as much as he can. After an arduous climb up the stairs to their apartment, Kabir had finally fallen asleep on Arnav's bed, but only after reminding Arnav to spell his name correctly from the next day as 'Kabeer', much to Arnav's disgruntlement.

The next morning, a livid Arnav had told him off in very few words that he wasn't happy or proud of what had happened the previous night and that he expected better behaviour from him in future. He also warned him it was the first and the last time he would be saving his skin from the wrath of his parents, who were fortunately away for a weekend to attend a wedding. Kabir had begged and pleaded for forgiveness, and during a light moment later, asked him if he should start spelling his name as Kabeer from that day onwards. Arnav had stared at him for a moment then and promised him he would do so when Kabir achieved something in his life, which would make him feel proud of him.

Kabir had grinned and agreed to the deal wholeheartedly, knowing very well Arnav would forget about it by the end of the day. But for some reason, the memory of that moment where Arnav had promised him with half a smile teasing his lips had been buried deep inside his heart forever.

It seemed like Arnav hadn't forgotten about the incident or the promise after all.

The word 'Bhai' on the card blurred in front of his eyes as he touched it and blinked to clear the film of tears over them. Words spoken uncaringly the night before in the heat of the moment came back to torment him—words which could build or destroy a precious relationship.

The problem is you don't give a fuck.

He glanced at the expensive guitar once again and then at the card. Guilt and regret sat on his chest comfortably and crushed his heart under their weight.

I am so proud of what you have achieved so far, Chhotu!! Maybe I don't say it enough and perhaps I should, but yes I am!

It cut like a knife wound to his heart when he thought about the things Arnav must've had to do to raise a sum like that to buy this beautiful guitar for him.