Today is July 6th. It's 17 years since my brother was born. A very special day for me, and for Mom and Dad. It's the day this naughty one came into my life. I still remember the first day he was shown to me, the day he was born. My ideas were then abstract. I didn't know what he meant to me. He was just a baby who came out of my mother's tummy. He was very small and delicate, with tiny hands and legs, and seemed to be always crying. Everyone's attention was devoted to him. They showered him with lots of love, care and gifts too. I felt strange because till yesterday I was the centre of attraction and everyone used to dote on me.

Slowly he began to grow. When he was three months old he would give me a cute smile whenever I went near him. He would make small gestures to draw me to him. From then on there was a bond between us which I could feel and which he could feel. Slowly he grew up. I became extremely protective of him. I would cover up for him when his naughty little pranks landed him in trouble. I would argue with Mom and Dad for getting him the playthings he demanded. He also would surprise me with sudden unexpected gifts. I still treasure the pair of earrings he gifted me on a new year's day, five or six years ago. There would always be a packet of groundnuts for me in his pocket when he came back from his walks with Dad.

Every day he would wait for me at the gate in the evening when I reached home from school. As soon as I got down from my auto, he would take my tiffin-kit in one hand and hold my hand with his other hand. He would tell me about his day, the pranks he had played with Mom or how she had scolded him. He would run to me when Mom took the stick to him. And hide behind me till I convinced Mom to let him go.

When on his fifteenth birthday I gave him a gift, a little thing I had bought for him, he hugged me. He was by then taller and bigger than me, and had become protective of me. He would glare at boys who dared to pass comments on me or harass me. In the evenings we wouldn't have peace of mind unless we talked about our day at school and college to each other. He would speak on my behalf and convince Dad if I had to go for some camp or picnic.

But all this was two years ago and all these have become memories which I cherish and hold on to. I don't know how or when a crack originated or how it widened. Has this great metropolis swallowed my brother? He has killed his real self to become someone else, so much so that he didn't even remember to wish me on my birthday last week. "Leave me alone," "I am busy," "Don't interfere in my affairs" are the only things I hear him speak to me these days.

He needs freedom - freedom to come and go as he likes, do whatever he likes. He needs money - pocket money - more and more each day to spend with his friends and "freak out." Our home has become a battlefield now with constant arguments and fights with him, Mom and Dad. Now his friends are his world and all he tries to do is to what they do or say. He has forgotten even his hobbies. He used to paint very well and his voice is simply fabulous. But now he hasn't time for neither painting nor singing.

I am searching for my real brother whom I have lost so that I can give him back his real self. And that will be my birthday gift to him today. Hopes and wishes are all I have… I have miles and miles to go on this journey.