My brother, the first-born prince

A glass of milk keeps Manas’ hair shiny. You think Boo gets it from him?

Manas

People who have had a crush on him (Hi Vaidehi!), look at those genes. Look at the cute babies he is going to make.

Manas

We stopped killing each other long enough to pose for this photograph. I kid, we loved each other in this phase. Bushu came the next year, then we loved her. Evidently, you can only love one sibling at a time.

I still love tiaras. And I loved playing cowboys and Red-Indians with my brother.
Yes, we actually played that, but only cause he had cowboy boots and could persuade me to run around shirtless with paint on my face.

Best time to play this is in the afternoon, when your parents are sleeping. They love the war-cry. Topple a few chairs to make a tent. It will give them Memories.

Me and Manas in 1983

Like every younger sibling, I accuse my family of loving my brother more. Only in my case, it’s true. Must be cause he’s so damn cute.  Look at us, wind in our hair, a sticky sweet to eat and the knowledge that we’ll soon think of something to do that will exasperate our parents.

Manas and me

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