I avoid conflict like the plague.
I’d gone to sleep last night (or morning, I should say) before Onkar returned—around 7, as he’d said he would, surprisingly. I vaguely remember stirring when he came in and announced his arrival. Some shuffling was involved, where Mom moved to the pull-out bed and Onkar came and slept beside me on the big bed, but that was about it. Onkar was more sober than he’d been a few hours earlier, but he still wasn’t in any state to talk, and the parents decided to leave things until morning.
I was the last to wake up, in the early afternoon. Still extremely angry, I listened while pretending to be asleep until he left for a shower. I heard Mom mention that there were vomit stains on his shirt, coat, and even his face. She was washing his clothes while he cleaned himself up. I was still too angry to face him, so as soon as I heard the bathroom door shut, I got ready in record time and left to go work from the nearest konbini and cool off.
I spent a productive couple of hours there, with no messages from the family. I didn’t know what they were up to — they’d all been up long before me — but I assumed they were still at home. They knew where I was, so if they’d gone out, they would’ve dropped by or asked me to join.
Eventually, though, I had to poop. I hadn’t been to the bathroom that morning in my rush to get out, and while I resisted the urge for a bit, it got urgent fast. The house was closer than trying to find a café with a toilet, so I headed back.
Onkar apologized. The elders must’ve talked to him while I was out. I wasn’t ready to accept it. I headed straight to the toilet.
The thing with family, though, is that no matter how hard you fall out, you can’t keep it that way for long. I’m not saying I just forgave him. But the silent treatment, the avoiding — it wasn’t sustainable.
Mom, Dad, and Bua had been talking to him all morning, and he’d been opening up to them about his recent stress. He’s been torn about whether to continue his PhD at Cambridge or take one of two work opportunities: (1) the Bridgewater internship he’d recently accepted, which he believed could turn into a full-time role if he wanted, and (2) a standing job offer from his old boss at Ardian in Tokyo.
He wasn’t making the kind of impact at school that he felt he could at work. He’d been managing to balance both over the past couple of years, but it was beginning to feel unsustainable. His concentration was slipping, and he even mentioned that he might be on the verge of burnout.
None of this excuses what happened the night before, but my worry for him began to outweigh my anger. I made sure he knew how disappointed I was — not so much for the net café situation, but for the night that followed, especially how it affected Mom and Dad. But I got back to speaking terms with him. I could feel the maturity in me as I did that.
In the early evening, we went out for coffee. It was high time to get out of the house, and we found a Freshness Burger joint nearby to sit at. Onkar had clearly had some sense talked into him while I was gone. I’m not sure how much of it will stick, but he seemed genuinely regretful.
He told us about a 5-litre canister of 30-ish% alcohol — nicknamed “Gasoline” — at his friend TK’s house. His university friend group had only managed to finish 4 litres of it when they were all in Tokyo, and those who were back for Ricky’s wedding decided to meet up at TK’s place to polish it off. Onkar and Ricky were the last ones left, and the two of them apparently managed to get it over with, but at the cost of a 4–5 hour memory blackout.
Now, narrating this to us, Onkar said he’s drunk a lot in the past, especially at uni, but he almost always remembered everything. This time, though, he couldn’t recall what happened, and neither could Ricky.
Onkar being Onkar, he even boasted at one point about a time he ‘followed the North Star home.’ After a night out when trains had stopped running and his phone had died, he made sure all his drunk friends got into cabs, then walked (what he thought was) four hours (Google Maps later said 50 minutes, so maybe two hours in drunk-person terms, max) using the North Star to guide him southwest until he hit familiar ground. He remembered everything that night, despite the alcohol, but this time was a total blackout.
Originally, when he texted Dad at 5:30am, he told Dad he’d fallen asleep, but now he thought he was technically awake, just not functioning. He acknowledged that the missing window of memory is a definite concern though — not something he wants happening again.
The alcohol culture in my immediate family is quite relaxed, unlike some of my friends’ families I know. It’s taboo in a lot of Indian households, but in mine, my parents were the ones who insisted both Onkar and I try it for the first time in front of them before going off to college.
It’s a healthy topic of conversation usually and as long as we don’t drink in excess and damage our health, everything’s good. I think that this liberal attitude from the parents added to Onkar’s guilt when something bad did happen, and I was glad that rather than trying to fight it, he at least admitted he was wrong and that it wouldn’t happen again.
No one was in a rush today. It was Onkar’s last full day in Tokyo, and everyone seemed content to just sit and chat. We spent over three hours at Freshness Burger, eating and talking.
At some point, the conversation turned to solving math problems.
We ordered coffee for Dad and Onkar, and with the receipt came a coupon for a half-price second cup. We used it, got another coupon, and realized we could keep getting the same coffee at half-price indefinitely. Mom joked about what would happen if each cup kept halving in price. I threw her a question — how much would she pay for an infinite number of cups if the first cost 500 yen? I ended up explaining it, and then Onkar threw in his own questions. Eventually the elders got bored of math talk though, and with no immediate plans, Onkar ended up going back to his hotel to nap.
I figured I could work from the hotel lobby better than from a café, and went with him. This time, it was me who wanted to keep him company.
I saw his room, then left to work. There was a mall in the adjoining building though, and I wandered there for a while first. I ended up coming across a pancake place that had decent coffee and better seats than the sofas in the lobby. Ironic that I still practically ended up working at a cafe, until it closed at 10pm.
I did relocate to the lobby after that, since most restaurants were either closing soon or didn’t allow laptops. I worked for about half an hour until Onkar came downstairs, and we headed back home together.
The plan was to do some individual work sprints at a net café, but since Mom had also wanted to join (like she’d decided last night) and we knew she’d have a hard time keeping her voice down, we decided on a (real) 24-hour McDonald’s instead. Onkar was confident the one in Ikebukuro would definitely be open, even after our horror story of the Kawasaki one closing unexpectedly. Since he lived here, I trusted him. And if it did close, we had backup net cafés nearby. Plus, since it was near home, if Mom got tired, she could get back on foot. The lack of overnight trains wasn’t something to worry about.
On the walk home, Onkar and I had a heart-to-heart.
We talked about his PhD situation — I hadn’t been part of the morning’s discussion, so he filled me in — and about Mom and Dad’s plan to retire in Japan. Onkar thinks they should do it ASAP. I don’t think it’s the right time, but we’re all aligned on it happening eventually. We had a healthy debate, agreed to disagree, but looked into the legalities around permanent residency applications for people of different ages and qualifications. We actually came away more optimistic than when we started.
That sibling time meant a lot — especially since we’ve been living apart since he moved out for uni.
Another thing about Onkar is that he travels super light (as I aspire to and subsequently fail to do basically every time). For context, he’s made trips back home to India with just a laptop bag before.
This time, it was advantageous for me, because as it’s nearing the end of the trip, I’ve found I’ve accumulated more stuff than I can carry back, but I can use some of his baggage allowance to send things I won’t need here back with him. Onkar lives in Cambridge but he often visits London for work, and his birthday is the day after I return, so I’ll likely see him then. I’d asked Dad to bring an extra backpack, and once we got home, I packed it up for Onkar to take.
He said he was going to nap and set an alarm for a few minutes later so we could go to McDonald’s.
Then Mom moved his phone away and switched off the alarms.
Mom being angry is not something you want to deal with. Between her and Onkar, his is worse — but it’s delayed. And knowing how he sleeps, without an alarm he wouldn’t be up until morning (very early morning, by his grandpa-like sleep cycle, but morning nonetheless). I knew better than to interfere. Sure, I missed another chance to work, but I accepted it, making a mental note to catch up tomorrow.
Seeing my brother safe and asleep in front of us all was such a huge contrast to the night before, and I was just thankful he’s okay.
I hope he’s learned something from last night. I know he’s going to be stupid again, but I hope he’s never this stupid.