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I picked up my brother from the airport yesterday and
boy! Was I glad to see him? Yes I was. His flight was
now-not-so-unusually slightly late and I had to peel my eyes each time
a fresh load of assorted passengers came up the exit escalator. After
an hour and intense eye-peeling, I was beginning to tire and starting
to forget exactly why I was here. But there he was finally. His
expression was that of relief, thankful that his absent-minded brother
had remembered the day and time (I almost messed it up this time too).
The M males are not known to be too effusive in their expressions of
happiness so coupla nickname calling and warm handshakes did it for us.
He gave me the "whatz wrong…people are watching" look when I
put my hand around his shoulder.
Luckily his bags did not revolve long
around the carousel. He has done his bit of traveling around the world
but that did not stop him from admiring the famed 14-laned Interstates
through the Atlanta Downtown, though the peak hour traffic did not help
matters. We caught up with lost times together, with all the anecdotes
of hilarious incidences that the Mhatres and other related families
keep getting into. If the mention of families reminded you of Don
Corleone, it tells a lot about your demented psyche. Well, it did
remind me…but I am a class apart. Anyways back to the stories, not
much happening apart from the usual updates on everyone and their slow
progress though life cycles. He is the first of the six "related"
people that are slated to cross the Atlantic this fall so mostly the
stories revolved around uproarious mix-ups…and I am thinking I have
to hear all the stuff 5 more times in the upcoming future. But the
stories that me and my brother share are usually spiced with our smart
alec comments, which only our ears are privy to hear and usually only
our brains can process. One word from the past experiences brings forth
load of laughter and series of our special analysis.
The
homecoming is usually followed by instant unpacking with the sweets,
foodstuff, books, and clothes tumbling out not particularly in that
order. It did so today too but not that soon…maybe we are learning to
be more patient. I had to feed him the American junk fast food first
before giving him a taste of my ass-burning spicy chicken for dinner.
Mom had remembered to send my trademark Tantra tshirts and Dad
dutifully, sent a tightly-sealed letter, mostly advisory and senti in
nature. I really am glad to have my brother here. Maybe someday I will
write about our quirky bonding incidents.
by Patrix | on Friday, July 25th, 2003 at 4:03 pm | 
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