A Shadow Dispelled

My brother (age 1) playing in the snow.

My brother (age 3) and I (age 4) in front of our home right before I was off to school.

As she drove back to their home she tried to hold back her laughter. During the five-minute ride, she glanced several times at her rear-view mirror showing the incredibly naïve and adorable creature she helped create. After a few seconds of coaxing him to show it to her, the mother noticed that the test paper her six-year-old son produced was a fake. At the top of it in thick writing read “90000%.” But she didn’t let him know his mistake. She loudly praised him just to allow him the moment of smugness he experienced while seated in the back of the car.

July 9th, 1992: his birth. Around 12 P.M., he entered the world as Kevin Saroop. The proud and exhausted mother took one look at him and her happiness quickly turned to concern. The boy didn’t look similar to any of her or her husband’s family. His skin was dark, his nose wide, and his hair thin. “Oh no,” she thought lying on the hospital bed. “This boy isn’t going to look nice.” Back at home, her husband was drinking and celebrating his son’s arrival. The boy was introduced to his older sister who quickly took to him. Since Kevin was unexpected, his parents had to clear a room in their home that was originally intended to be his father’s office.

As a toddler, Kevin was often bullied by his sister. Being that he was younger and given more attention, she found it easy to displace her emotions through bossing him around. At first, Kevin didn’t object as he was too young to do anything. Through older age and greater sense gained by his fourth birthday, Kevin began to fight back. No matter how much they fought, however, his sister never brought up his greatest weakness, his greatest insecurity: his bed-wetting accidents. Every time Kevin wet the bed, he would cry incessantly due to a heightened sense of guilt. At those moments he felt like a mistake and sought solace in his family.

Although they fought often, Kevin and his sister enjoyed each other’s company. They were only one year apart and liked to do kiddy activities together. They also liked learning about one another. By the age of five, his sister graduated kindergarten wanting to be a doctor. This was something her parents were proud of. When she asked Kevin what he wanted to be at that age, he answered “a chicken man.” This term was used by Kevin and his sister to describe the men who killed chickens at the Halaal farms for paying customers. “And if you can’t be a chicken man?” his sister would ask. “Then I’ll be a garbage man,” he would answer.

When Kevin entered the first grade and his sister entered the third, he began realizing the problems of being a younger sibling. They both attended the same parochial school, which started using an honor roll list when a student entered the third grade. Kevin’s sister was unaware of this and was put on the honor roll list for her hard work. Her teacher complimented her good efforts during PTA meetings, which circled back to increased parental attention at home. Realizing that he could get the same result if he did well academically, Kevin struggled to keep up with his work in the first grade, most of it assigned by a bad-tempered teacher.

In the following years, Kevin and his sister continued to attend the same school. While she participated in many competitions and won some, pressure was put on Kevin to do the same. She also came out on top of her class, something her parents expected of her. They expected Kevin to do well too, if not better, since he was supposed to learn from her mistakes and achievements. Thus he secretly admired his sister and, at the same time, secretly hated her for outlining his life for him. He rebelled by refusing to do well in school without incentives, which his parents readily prepared. To him, the gain of these incentives represented a form of affection. They were tangible signs of love.

When the time came for his sister to move on to high school, Kevin felt slightly relieved. No longer would he have to be in the same academic environment as her. No longer would he have to be compared to her. But the great shock came when his sister passed the “Specialized High School Admissions Test.” After news of her acceptance into one of New York’s specialized schools, Kevin’s sister became the gleaming pride and joy of their parents. Boastful words were transmitted to relatives via phone and in person while Kevin dreaded the moment he would have to take the test. It became so overbearing that at the mention of his sister’s news, Kevin would hang his head down and usually exit the room. Two years later, after attending two different test preparation programs and receiving a bit of tutoring, he took the test. Kevin was not admitted into any of the existing specialized schools.

The disappointment of his parents reached an all-time high at the receipt of his test score. The idea of him not being able to attend a specialized school was devastating so much so that his mother actively sought out newly built specialized schools within New York City. When she found out about Brooklyn Latin High School she immediately forced Kevin to investigate admission into the school, which he eventually was granted and had taken. At the same time, his sister was rejecting the proposal of becoming a pharmacist by her parents. In an effort to further win his parents over, Kevin assumed the role of aspiring pharmacist within his family. This would follow in the steps of his father, whose approval mattered to him most.

This took a drastic turn once Kevin entered high school. As you probably already know, high school is a learning experience. It’s a time when most of us discover what we want to do with our lives and the last time we’ll be regarded as minors. Kevin’s time in high school helped him further define his being so as to point toward the direction of the career he wanted to pursue. Being a fan of wrestling for over 13 years, Kevin always admired the high-flying tactics of wrestlers such as Rey Mysterio and Jeff Hardy. He always said that he’d be a “high-flyer” one day and engross himself in the exhilarating feeling. Upon declaring a possible goal to become a wrestler, Kevin was seen as a joke by his family. His parents and sister laughed at his unrealistic assumption, which he defended by saying he’d work hard to make real. His “back-up plan” is pharmacy, which he plans to attend school for after graduating from high school.

Eight years ago, my astrology-oriented cousin read Kevin’s palm. She claimed that one of his lines spoke of success and money. Although Kevin doubts himself and tells all of his friends that I’m better than him at everything, I know that the story on his palm is correct. He’s taking his own route instead of an expected one, and working toward his own dreams is the greatest sense of fulfillment he can ever achieve.