Bhaity. Little brother. That's what we called Basistha Deka.

The year was 1973. I had just taken my first baby steps when he entered our lives.

He must have been around 12 then. A lanky, confident lad, he had come with his elder brother to our city in search of work to support his big family in a far-off village.

In the beginning everybody was unsure what Bhaity was capable of doing. But as days passed, my family found he could do anything -- and everything.

He went on to stay with us for the next 15 years. Life was simpler because we had Bhaity -- Bhaity the cook, the errand boy, the driver, the gardener...

As years passed, Bhaity, who came to us a fourth-grader, finished middle school. And my mother got him employed at the local hospital.

Then it was time for us kids to leave home. Time for me to pursue my dreams. Like me, Bhaity too had dreams. He expressed his desire to 'settle down'.

My parents found him a bride. And Bhaity the cook, the errand boy, the driver, the gardener became Bhaity the husband -- and, in the years that followed, Bhaity the father to two wonderful boys.

I was living far from home, struggling with life's realities, when Bhaity developed dementia. Forgetfulness took over, regression set in. He became old at 38. Despite medicines, life began slipping away from him.

And then it was a beautiful Sunday afternoon and I was on a plane for home. To be with my family, to be with Bhaity. Fate had snatched him away, but it was allowing me to say a final goodbye.

Bhaity looked as if he was sleeping. He had managed to free himself from the agony that had engulfed him the past few years. Bhaity the cook, the errand boy, the driver, the gardener, the husband, the father... Bhaity my friend, my beloved brother, had finally found serenity.

Bhaity will always be a treasured memory for Sukanya Bora.

Illustration: Lynette Menezes

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