melange of thoughts

I watched 'Born into Brothels' tonight. I find it strange that one minute, I can be staring at the balance sheets of companies with assets surpassing trillions of euros and the next, I'm watching the most adorable, shy, bright, and repressed kids growing up in total shite brothels in Calcutta. Kids endowed with wisdom beyond their years and the ability to see beauty in so many things. Having spent several months searching for a charity to contribute to regularly, I have found it.

There's a kid there, Avijit, that reminded me of my brother. They have nothing in common except the -jit names and the unfortunate memory of being particularly pudgy ladoos as children. I don't speak to my brother as much as I would like to and I think that situation will grow worse as we progress along our unique trajectories. Our's wasn't the happiest of childhoods (whose is?) ; our nuclear unit, adrift without roots in the wasteland of America, was bound together as much by our un-stated love as by the scars and secrets we inflicted upon each other. My brother and I shared so much (despite his occasional desire to suffocate me with a blanket) and I don't wonder if anyone could possibly understand me the way he does.

I'm told (subtly) over and over again that at some point in our lives we choose our partners over our families. This case was never as clear-cut and extreme as it was for ho-bot. However, my family never imposed that choice on me. Perhaps that is why I don't think I would ever be capable of giving that satisfaction to a partner; or rather, a potential partner would be out of the running if I felt at any moment he couldn't pass the litmus test of my family. Call it disillusion with relationships/love, a destiny of solitude, or insane loyalty. Call it whatever you like. As much as my family pisses me off, they define my existence completely.