Will you teach me how to fly a kite?

Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep. 

I snoozed the alarm for about 6 times already. With a sleepy face and thoughts swinging between 'just five more minutes' and 'If I don't wake up now, Ma will not give me breakfast', I pulled myself out of bed. I can't compromise on breakfast now, can I? 

 "Good morning, kutti." Ma called out from the kitchen and brought a cup of coffee for me as I sat on a chair by the dining table. I hugged her from behind and sat back down to sip on the best coffee that only my Ma can make. 

"Remember what date it is today?" she asked me, again from the kitchen, but her voice lower than before. 

"Hmm. I do, Ma." I replied, trying not to act like it was a big deal.

Of course, I remember. 12 years back, my Ma lost her brother to-we don't know what. He slept and never woke up. Being only 8 and the closest to him, I cried for 3 days and then went back to normal. At least that is what I like to tell myself. But the thought that he isn't here with us anymore still wrenches my heart in an incomprehensible way.

"You want to talk?" she asked.

"I..."

 "Good morning, Ma. I'm up." 

That was my sister. B. Being about 3 years elder than me, she thinks that she is free to do whatever she wants. 

"Ma, how does she get breakfast despite waking up late! You can't do this!"

"That's because you are adopted," B reverted.

Ha. Classic elder sibling dialogue.

"Bwaawaehheh", I said, trying to imitate her.

"Stop it both of you. Also, do you remember today's date?" Ma asked my sister this time.

"Why is it the same question every year, Ma? It's June 8th, 2020. Let's do something different this year. This year has already been so pathetic, thanks to COVID. Kee, remember the last movie we watched in the theatre with Mama?" she asked, looking directly at me. 

"Yes, I do."

"Let's watch that today. I am not up for any kind of crying or drama today. Nobody cries today. Clear?" She was now looking directly at Ma. 

"You remember the title track of the movie? I remember Suraj singing it when we used to play out-out. How old were we? You were 8, weren't you?" she said, still sipping on her coffee. She likes to savor it. 

"Aah, I do! How could I forget that! Ma, I never spoke to Suraj after his family shifted to Chennai. Try calling them today, please? I don't know why I feel like talking to him, Varun and aunty today."

Suraj and Varun were our childhood friends. They were Tamilians too and it didn't take long for our families to become friends. B and I spent most of our time in their house, playing video games, cricket, going out on picnics, and just enjoying life one day at a time. The four of us shared a very special bond. Although we never spoke even once after his family moved to Chennai, he came up quite a few times in our conversations.

I remember trying to search for Suraj about 4 months back on Instagram. Just putting 'stalking' in a nice and neat way. 

108 posts. 430 followers. 180 following. 

Private account. 

I chose not to send him a follow request. What if he doesn't remember me? What if he doesn't follow me back? I closed his profile and forgot about doing it again, thinking maybe I'll sit on this thought and come back later.

"Sure. I'll have to search for their number. I will try calling them today." Ma said, and began searching for the number on her phone. 

This made me happy. Oddly happy. 

Ma rang their number 3 times. Nobody answered. 

"Maybe they changed their number," I said, clearly disappointed. 

"Send aunty a text on Whatsapp, Ma. Maybe they don't have your number saved." B is indeed smart, I thought. 

'Hello, Padmaja. I am Jaya from Hyderabad. How are you? How are sir and the kids? Hope everybody is fine. Call us whenever you are free.'

"Sent."

"Let's wait for them to reply. I'll go buy snacks to eat while watching the movie," B sighed and walked towards the pile of masks.

I got up and went back to my room, the place I spend all my time in. In less than 10 minutes, I hear Ma calling my name. 

"Kee...Just...come here...I don't understand this," she said, pointing towards her mobile.

It was a text from Padmaja aunty.

'Dear Jeya. Our family is in no position to talk. We are just broken. We lost our Sraj to an accident 4 months ago. We are completely shattered. I will call you some other time. Please take care.'

I blanked out. Was that a typo? Who did they lose? Is it who I think it is? Must be a typo. It can't be him. 

"Ma...just ask.."

"It's Suraj." Ma's voice trembled as though she was trying to hold her tears. She put the mobile down and looked at me as though she was waiting for me to say that he is fine. But we both knew, it was what it was.

I leave Ma with B and go back to my room.

Memories flashing one by one. 

I could hear his voice in my head. Guilt and regret gushed in my mind like a tsunami.

The bond Suraj and I shared was the purest bond I've ever had. We were kids. We did not know anything except the world we had for each other and were contained within our bubble. We were not influenced by movies or the world outside us. We felt like at 'home' when the four of us were together. 

Ma called up Padmaja aunty's sister to find out how. He went to the terrace to talk with his friend. He fell off the building by accident. That is the least convincing story I could have heard. But how does that matter now?

Why did he have to leave so early? What about the promises he made that he will teach me how to fly a kite, how to ride a cycle, how to make paper rockets, how to win WWE card game every single time?

You tell me that the boy who was once flying a kite on his terrace and flaunting his skills as I stood next to him, clapping my hands in joy, fell off a terrace while here I am, so distant and clueless about whatever happened to him for so long? When I think of him now, there are few questions that I've always wanted to ask him. But now that I can never know the answers, I feel like I'm being pushed into a void. 

A void of oblivion. 

A void, where there are only questions and no answers no matter how much I prayed for them.

That night, I had dreams. Dreams, where 10-year-old Suraj was happy. And with us. I could not think of anything else but that picture of Suraj, because I never saw him after that, nor will I ever. 

What was he like? When I listen to a song, it makes me think, "Did Suraj like this song?" 

Did he also hate beetroots like me? Was he still the angry human he was as a kid?

Did he think about me at least once in these 12 years, the way I've thought about him?

Maybe I should have sent him the following request that day. Or was it a good thing that I didn't send him the request?

Was it better that we didn't have any other memories? Because had we spoken later, the news would have left me to pieces. Or did I miss the chance of getting to know him forever? Because now there is no way I can get to know him. 

As I write this here, it's been about 7 months since we got the news and 11 months since he left us. I'm teary-eyed every single time. 

Suraj, this is for you. What's the point of seeing your photos when I know I can never be in one along with you? I try not to stop by your page, waiting for you to accept my follow request. 

I try. 

All I want to ask, as you promised is- will you teach me how to fly a kite?