Mum. Unedited.

Human. My brother was born in Kolkata in February 1982. He was a beautiful baby - the apple of my mother's eye. His striking golden locks and light skin made him inescapable. He was full of adventure. Afraid of nothing. Mum always worried he'd hurt himself. He wasn't allowed a bike until after he was 10. And this one time he jumped off the mezzanine floor at a holiday house. He thought he was superman. His fondness for mountains developed early, probably through the numerous holidays my parents took in the Himalayas, Bhutan and Nepal. All of his childhood photos have him brandishing his signature smile with a backdrop of snow covered mountains. He didn't really showcase his intellect until he was sent to boarding school. But school really brought out the best in him. He was athletic, intelligent, loyal and committed. For the last 20 years he called Australia home. He travelled a lot, but always found his way back here. It was probably because of the easy l...

Seconds turned to minutes. I couldn't breathe. I let out a visceral cry - a sound I never knew I had in me. Hands shaking. Vision blurred. My heart felt a crushing pain as though someone had just stepped on it. It scared my two and half year old so much that in front of my eyes he grew old enough to be able to say 'Mum I'm here'. Minutes turned to hours. I called the Deparment of Foreign Affairs and Trade to let them know that my brother had just died in on the Matterhorn. Surreal. I called my brother's girlfriend. That conversation was short, maybe 10 seconds. She said she had to go. I finally found the courage to call my parents. My mum collapsed to the ground, and my dad didn't get a chance to react because he knew he had to be there for her. I couldn't do anything for them because they were miles away, in India. Later in the evening I called Inspector Kuonen at Zermatt police. He informed me that they had him in their possession. What a str...