Chapter 15: Growing Apart
The bond between Keshav and Sagar, once unbreakable, began to show signs of strain as the weeks in the city wore on. The city, with its towering buildings, bustling streets, and endless noise, was a world away from the quiet, serene village they had left behind. It was a place full of opportunities, but also of temptations, challenges, and pitfalls that neither brother had been fully prepared for.
Keshav, the elder brother, had taken on the mantle of responsibility with the seriousness that had always defined him. From dawn until dusk, he toiled relentlessly, juggling his part-time job with his studies. His day began before the sun had even risen, often with a hurried breakfast of stale bread and watery tea, as he rushed off to his job at the local market. The work was grueling and thankless, consisting of heavy lifting, running errands, and dealing with the unpredictable moods of the customers.
Yet, no matter how exhausted he felt, Keshav never complained. I have to work harder, he would tell himself, forcing his tired legs to keep moving even when they threatened to buckle beneath him. For Sagar's sake. I can't let him worry about anything but his studies.
Keshav's life had become a relentless cycle of work and study, with little time for anything else. The few moments of rest he allowed himself were often spent poring over textbooks by the dim light of a single bulb, his eyes straining to absorb the information. He pushed himself to the limits, knowing that every ounce of effort he expended was for the future he and Sagar had dreamed of.
But as Keshav threw himself into his responsibilities, he began to notice subtle changes in Sagar. At first, they were easy to overlook—a missed meal here, a few extra hours spent out of the house there. Sagar continued attending school, doing his homework, and engaging in conversations with Keshav about his studies. But there was a growing distance between the brothers, one that Keshav couldn't quite put his finger on.
Sagar, who had once been full of enthusiasm and curiosity, seemed more withdrawn. He no longer sought Keshav's advice on his studies, nor did he share his thoughts and dreams as he once had. The conversations that had once flowed so easily between them became stilted, reduced to brief exchanges about mundane topics. Keshav noticed that Sagar's answers to his questions were increasingly brief and vague, and more often than not, Sagar avoided eye contact.
Maybe he's just adjusting to the city, Keshav told himself, trying to brush off his growing concerns. It's a big change for both of us.
But deep down, Keshav couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. The city, with all its distractions and dangers, had a way of changing people, and Keshav feared that Sagar was being drawn into something he couldn't control.
One evening, as Keshav returned home from another grueling day at work, he found Sagar sitting alone in the dimly lit room they shared. The room, a small, cramped space with peeling walls and a single narrow window, had become their sanctuary in the unfamiliar city. Sagar was staring at the wall, lost in thought, his face a mask of unreadable emotions.
"Hey, Sagar," Keshav greeted him, trying to sound cheerful despite his exhaustion. "How was your day?"
"It was fine," Sagar replied, his voice flat and distant.
Keshav sat down beside him, hoping to engage him in conversation. "Did you get that math problem sorted out? The one you were struggling with yesterday?"
"Yeah," Sagar said, not meeting Keshav's eyes. "It's done."
The short, clipped responses were a stark contrast to the lively discussions they used to have. Keshav wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap that was forming between them, but every time he tried, he was met with the same cold wall of indifference.
What happened to the brother who used to tell me everything? Keshav wondered, frustration and helplessness bubbling up inside him. He could sense that something was bothering Sagar, but no matter how much he prodded, Sagar remained distant, as if an invisible barrier had risen between them.
As the days turned into weeks, Keshav's concerns only deepened. Sagar's behavior became increasingly erratic. He would stay out late, often coming home long after Keshav had gone to bed. There were times when Sagar would return with a strange smell on his clothes, a mix of sweat, smoke, and something else that Keshav couldn't quite place.
Keshav tried to confront Sagar about his late nights, but every time he did, Sagar would brush him off with a half-hearted excuse. "I was just studying with some friends," Sagar would say, his tone dismissive. Or, "I lost track of time, no big deal."
But it was a big deal to Keshav. He couldn't shake the feeling that Sagar was slipping away from him, that the brother he had once known so well was being replaced by someone else—someone colder, more secretive.
Why won't he talk to me? Keshav thought, the question gnawing at him day and night. Doesn't he trust me anymore?
Yet, Keshav was reluctant to push too hard. He didn't want to alienate Sagar further, didn't want to risk driving a deeper wedge between them. So, he tried to be patient, to give Sagar the space he seemed to need. But with each passing day, the distance between them grew, and Keshav's worries only multiplied.
It wasn't just the distance that worried Keshav; it was the new friends Sagar had started spending time with. They were different from the kids Sagar had known back in the village. These city boys were street-smart, confident, and far more worldly than Keshav was comfortable with. He often saw them around the neighborhood, lounging on street corners or loitering near shops, laughing and joking in ways that made Keshav uneasy.
Sagar had always been social, but there was something about these new friends that set off alarm bells in Keshav's mind. He had seen them smoking, skipping school, and engaging in behavior that was far removed from the disciplined life their father had instilled in them. Keshav knew that the city was full of temptations, but he hadn't expected Sagar to be drawn into them so quickly.
What do they want with Sagar? Keshav wondered, his mind racing with possibilities. Why is he spending so much time with them?
One afternoon, while Keshav was hurrying home after his shift, he saw Sagar with a group of boys in an alleyway near the school. The sight stopped him in his tracks. Sagar was laughing with them, his posture relaxed in a way that Keshav hadn't seen in a long time. The boys were passing around a cigarette, and Keshav's heart sank as he saw his brother take a puff.
This isn't the Sagar I know, Keshav thought, his stomach churning with anxiety. He debated whether to confront Sagar then and there or wait until they were alone. But before he could make a decision, Sagar noticed him watching from across the street.
Their eyes met, and for a moment, Keshav saw a flash of guilt in Sagar's expression. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a defiant look that Keshav had never seen before.
Keshav's heart ached as he turned away, pretending he hadn't seen anything. He didn't want to embarrass Sagar in front of his friends, didn't want to cause a scene. But the image of Sagar with that cigarette, surrounded by those boys, haunted him for the rest of the day.
What am I supposed to do? Keshav thought, despair washing over him. How do I help him if he won't let me?
As the weeks passed, the rift between the brothers only deepened. Sagar's late nights became more frequent, and his behavior more erratic. There were days when he would skip school altogether, coming home with vague excuses about being sick or needing a break. Keshav tried to be understanding, but his patience was wearing thin.
One evening, Keshav finally decided to confront Sagar directly. It was late, and Sagar had just returned home after another night out with his friends. His clothes were disheveled, and he smelled strongly of smoke.
"Sagar, we need to talk," Keshav said, his voice firm but calm.
Sagar looked at him with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. "About what?"
"About this," Keshav gestured to Sagar's appearance. "You've been coming home late almost every night, skipping school, hanging out with those boys… This isn't like you, Sagar."
Sagar's expression hardened. "What do you care? You're too busy with your own life to even notice what I'm doing."
Keshav felt a pang of guilt at Sagar's words. He knew he had been preoccupied with work and study, but he hadn't realized just how much it had affected Sagar. "I care because you're my brother," Keshav said softly. "I'm worried about you."
"Worried?" Sagar scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're just trying to control me, like everyone else."
"That's not true," Keshav protested. "I just want to make sure you're okay. I know the city is different from what we're used to, but you don't have to do this to fit in."
"Fit in?" Sagar's eyes flashed with anger. "You don't understand anything, Keshav. You don't understand what it's like to be the one always in your shadow, always being compared to you. I'm sick of it."
Keshav was stunned by Sagar's outburst. He had never realized that his brother felt this way, that he had been harboring such resentment. "Sagar, I never meant to make you feel that way. We're in this together—"
"Together?" Sagar interrupted, his voice rising. "We're not in this together. You have your perfect little life, and I'm just the screw-up you have to look after."
Keshav felt a lump form in his throat. He wanted to reach out to Sagar, to tell him that none of that was true, but the words wouldn't come. The distance between them felt insurmountable, and Keshav didn't know how to bridge the gap.
For a moment, there was silence between them, heavy with unspoken emotions. Then, without another word, Sagar turned and walked away, leaving Keshav standing alone in the dimly lit room.
As Keshav watched his brother's retreating figure, he felt a crushing sense of helplessness. I've lost him, he thought, despair washing over him. How did it come to this?
Keshav spent the rest of the night lying awake, his mind racing with thoughts of what he could have done differently. But no matter how much he replayed the past weeks in his mind, he couldn't find the answers he was looking for.
The bond that had once held the brothers together was fraying, and Keshav feared that it was only a matter of time before it snapped completely.