12 Sep Sarim Bhai

Some of my favorite people on this Earth were born during the month of February: my two brothers, two of my best friends, and my twin sons. They are all spectacular human beings who have played a hand in me being the woman I am today, but one above all others has been my saving grace- Sarim Bhai.

Sarim and I are 15 months apart, born to a child bride whose marriage was arranged by her aunt to the neighbor’s divorced son, father of two, and under a misunderstanding to say the least. Once anyone on either side of my family gives “their word” it will be carried out, no matter what the emotional costs on a young girl or future generations to come. My family’s word is their honor.

Even though Sarim is younger than me, I honor him by calling him Bhai or “Brother”. In the Pakistani and Indian tradition, an elder of yours by a day or decades will always be referred to with a title designating your respect towards them. The role of respect is of utmost importance in our culture. I honor Sarim not because he is older than me in age but because he is older than me in soul.

I sensed that these tests were different from the ones I took in Kindergarten. My tests focused on phonetics, the English language and vocabulary words. His were “special”.

“We need to speak to you about your brother,” Mrs. De Leon, my former Kindergarten teacher said. She pulled me out of my first grade class to discuss this with me in the hallway. “Sareeem (she said it stressing the last syllable) has some issues. I think we will need to get him tested. Can you please let your parents know? I’ve also pinned a note to his shirt.”

I can recall many moments and entire years of my life with great clarity, but my first grade year is a bit blurry. There were so many tests for Sarim. There were numerous meetings. Puppa tried to attend as many as he could, however sometimes I was the messenger to the home front. During that year, Sarim was mostly happy and laughing; sometimes sad because he couldn’t play and had to take another test. I sensed that these tests were different from the ones I took in Kindergarten. My tests focused on phonetics, the English language and vocabulary words. His were “special”.

“Samita, your brother is mentally retarded,” a teacher or a couple of teachers at school told me. As I traversed my limited vocabulary for “mentally retarded”, the teachers explained that he would always be “different” and that he would always be “special”. “He won’t be like you,” they said.

They were right- he’s not like me at all. Sarim Bhai is better. He’s kinder. He’s brighter. He’s holier. He’s love personified.

He started recycling in 1988 when most of us had no clue what going green even was. He walked around our junior high campus collecting cans, separating trash from glass, and picking up the trash that most students discarded because the “can man” would pick it up. And he was always smiling.

There is nothing bigger than a teenager’s ego and I was no exception. At school, I would divert my eyes when I’d see him, and lovingly, so purely, he never mentioned he was my brother. He never went out of his way to acknowledge me or to even say hi. He knew I would be embarrassed by him, but as it turned out I was ashamed of myself for not acknowledging him as my brother- my better half. My ego was too loud.

“He knew I would be embarrassed by him, but as it turned out I was ashamed of myself for not acknowledging him as my brother- my better half. My ego was too loud.”

My ego has gotten quiet over the years with the help of meditation, diminished to the corners of my mind, one day to disappear all together. I am my brother’s keeper but more importantly my brother is my savior, my salvation. He taught me everything that I know about unconditional love.

Sarim Bhai cannot read, and I don’t think anyone in my family, me included, has the capacity to get through this without turning into a puddle of tears. This love letter was never intended for Sarim Bhai. He has forgiven me, I know. This letter was to loudly proclaim him as my Bhai. Happy birthday brother!

-Samita Syed-Needelman