What goes around comes around. It's true, history repeats itself in weird ways, often leaving oodles of laughter and nostalgia. Just yesterday, I was the one being held in my mom's courtroom, and today I'm the judge.
"Where were you, sweetkin? You didn't reach your tuition today. "I tried pulling a poker face as I interrogated my little brother. His heartbeat rising, his face tensed, I could feel the blood race through his veins. Not because I'd found out, I was merely a recognised figure of terror.
The question was: did mom know yet? Of course she did, I was "Yamdoot", just a messenger. The Tycoon of Death, Mother Dearest, was eagerly waiting back home.
Thereon began a familiar cycle. The Cycle of Escape. Suggestions were asked for, friends and partners in crime were called up, calculations and algorithms were drawn. What would mom buy and what came under the category of complete trash? And while the little one was up to all sorts of schemes, I sat silently, not reacting. Smiling to myself.
"Where were you, sweetkin? You didn't reach your tuition today." She stood in front of me with a poker face. Like a wall, no escape, I was caught. "I told you not to bunk. This was destined to happen," my intuitive mind told me.
"Too late, hun. Let's face it now!" I said to my brain. The biggest lump formed inside my throat. More of fright than guilt. My face red with anticipation, wrists clenched trying to control the urge to run away from judgement day. My mind reckoned all the prized possessions that would be confiscated and for how long. My heart secretly cursed whoever stabbed me in the back and reported me as "Missing". Life was so unfair, I never thought I'd get caught.
"Life is so unfair, I never thought I'd get caught!" my brother sighed.
"Just say sorry and listen to all that they have to say, you don't have any other option." I reassured him with apathy and experience.
The car reached home, he entered the torture chamber. I was made to sit and view the "slaughter".
The crazy sibling of mine looked at me from the corner of his eye and gave a shameless grin. He knew I'd melted. Later that night, chuckles took place, high fives were exchanged, the topic was closed for another time!
The writer can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org