My husband and I were watching the philosopher’s stone, part one of the Harry Potter series the other night and I could not help but hark back to the time when I used to do the same with my brother. It was this weekend ritual, one that we upheld for quite a long time. It comprised of not only the Harry Potter movies, but also The Lord of the Rings trilogy as well.
My father had this thing for curfews and he loved to throw them around. We could not stay up after eleven pm on a school night. But we somehow got him to agree to let us do our late night movie marathons during vacations. And trust me when I say that it is not an easy thing to get my dad to agree to something that he never really believes in. It is just that he has the same nocturnal tendencies and he doesn’t want his kids to catch his fever. We knew that we had inherited our love for movies from dear old dad and that was his biggest regret. He gets very particular about the specifics sometimes, scratch that, ALWAYS. His biggest fear is that it would affect our academics and he could not risk that!
We would sneak into the kitchen at night, knowing all too well that mom would kill us if we screw up her baby. That’s right, the kitchen was her third child. I would get the popcorn popping on the stove and my brother would pour drinks into large glasses that could knock off pigeons. Let me not forget the large glass bowls filled with London Dairy Double Chocolate ice-cream topped with cashews and almonds, and finally, some chocolate sauce harboring all that sweet goodness.
The best part about watching these movies with my brother is that we would get in sync with the dialogues and enact the scenes straight off. There is this one particular scene from the Lord of the Rings which we love to enact, the scene where Lord Elrond presents Andúril to Aragorn so that he can command the ghost army that dwells in the mountain and claim the throne as the rightful king of Gondor. My brother would play Lord Elrond to perfection and I would struggle to keep a straight face after seeing the depth of his acting skills. It is funny how this sibling bond works like magic. We would perfectly deliver the dialogues, automatically claiming the characters in the movie without clashing! There would be this ridiculous moment when we would spot something on-screen at the same time and burst into a fit of laughter like maniacs and my dad would scream at us from time to time to reduce the volume.
Even though we never get along and we cannot stand each other, I love spending time with the little kid. I hate to admit this but after moving out of town, I miss him the most. That kid has seen all of my phases and knows about each and every obsession of mine. He still insults my obsession with certain fictional characters from T.V shows and films and I wouldn’t hesitate to break his nose. No one dares to mess with him when I am around and I love that powerful feeling. Now, I tell him that I miss beating the crap out of him the most after getting married and he just smirks at me. We can never stop fighting or hurting each other because that is just how our universe works and I am perfectly fine with it. That is how we bring positivity and optimism into each others’ lives mutually.
I know that I can always tell him anything, despite him being six years younger to me. I am proud of how he has matured into a thoughtful young man and I cannot help but pat myself on the back for having done a splendid job. We keep each other grounded and flash the reality of the masks we put on in our daily lives to one another. He is someone who can help me keep my sanity in check or drive me nuts beyond recognition too. But it is a good balance and I love our bond.