Memories they say, are immortal. Fond memories of people who we love, and who have loved us, stay with us. Life and death is at the mercy of Mother Nature, but mightier then the rules of nature, is the human mind, which keeps the people we love, alive forever!
My Grandpa, (Maternal Grandfather) has always been a prominent personality in the chapters of my memories. He, I have been told by my mother, was very strict as a father. He was a staunch follower of discipline, and any indiscipline in his presence, did not stop him from raising his voice! But I had no reason to believe this. Like all kids, I as a child did not enjoy the restrictions of discipline. When Grandpa was around, I could savour the luxury of my liberty, the most. If my mother raised her voice or hands on me, Grandpa would quickly come to my support and shield me. “Don’t beat him” he would say, “Explain it to him nicely and politely. My grandson is intelligent. He will understand”… And I would get away!!
But he did teach me discipline too. He would often come to stay at our place on weekends. Sunday was my favourite day, as I could rise up late that day. But not when Grandpa was around. He would come and sit besides me on my bed, early in the morning, and start chatting with me. He shook me holding my shoulders, and would say, “Do you hear me?? Come on, wake up, and talk to your Grandpa.” That was his way to teach me to rise early, even on a Sunday.
As a kid again, I was not so tidy, when it came to my room, or study table. My study table had books and pens all over the place. The cricket bat, stumps, the ball, and a dozens of comic books, just lied here and there in my room. Grandpa never said anything, but he used to quietly start working on the table, putting the books in order, pen in the pen-container and the comic books in their rightful place in the cabinet. And then he used to tell me, “I should see your room neat and clean like this, the next time I come here.” And next time, when I came to know Grandpa was coming, first thing I did was clean my room neat and tidy.
Grandpa had always been the person, I could trust to look back on, when some of my stubborn “demands” were turned away by my parents. And not to miss the ice-creams and those expensive chocolate packs that I got without any demand. I would pounce on them with delight… but would grumble when Grandpa called me to his bed, and told me to massage his legs. Then he would say, “You are lucky you have a Grandpa … I had never seen mine… And you will remember me after I go…”
But when it came to his birthday, I had my special way of wishing him. I gathered all my crayons, water colours, paints and brushes, made a greeting card, paint it with my best drawings, and birthday wishes, decorate the cards with rose petals, and on his birthday, gift it to him while wishing him. The joy that showed when he saw those cards was enormous. He treasured all those cards with him. The rose petals would dry away and wither. But the cards still rested there, safe and sound, decorating his table in his cabin of the Cloth Store that was now run by his sons. Rested on that same table, there always lied my photo. And when customers often asked him, “Who is that?” he would proudly say, “That’s my grandson!”
As I grew up, inspired by the IT revolution, I aspired to be a Software Engineer. Grandpa was happy about my ambition, and always asserted and adviced me that I should try my luck in Bangalore, as his favourite newspaper “The Economic Times” told him about the IT opportunities there. He was always eager to see me kick-off my career.
That day, was my first day at office. This was my first job, after graduation. Though I was preparing for my post-graduation entrance, I decided to take up this modest data-entry job, just to get the industry exposure, and keep myself busy. As the bus headed towards office, I looked outside the window, and thought… “I should meet Grandpa and tell him about my new job today evening. Though this is not what I want to do, he will still be happy about my first job!” And I made up my mind to meet him that evening.
That evening when I reached home, the door was locked. My parents are out I thought. And I went to the neighbour’s house where they usually kept the key if they had to go out. The lady came out holding the key. Her face was surprisingly straight, and dull. She said in a low voice, “I am sorry to inform you, but your Grandpa expired today. Your parents wanted to call you. But today was your first day in office. They didn’t have any contact number to reach you.”
The ground below me collapsed that second. I could not believe what I was hearing. I wanted to meet Grandpa this evening. Tell him about my first job. Tell him about my post-graduation plans. And my career aspirations. He would be happy to hear it I thought. But now he was gone… Gone forever. And I could not even pay my last respects to him. Destiny had painted a very unfortunate picture of my Grandpa’s farewell.
But that wasn’t his farewell. He always remained, and still is alive in my memories. And on his birthday (11 July) I dedicate this writing to him, as I remember him... Now I know what he meant, when he said, “You will remember me when I go!”
My Grandpa, (Maternal Grandfather) has always been a prominent personality in the chapters of my memories. He, I have been told by my mother, was very strict as a father. He was a staunch follower of discipline, and any indiscipline in his presence, did not stop him from raising his voice! But I had no reason to believe this. Like all kids, I as a child did not enjoy the restrictions of discipline. When Grandpa was around, I could savour the luxury of my liberty, the most. If my mother raised her voice or hands on me, Grandpa would quickly come to my support and shield me. “Don’t beat him” he would say, “Explain it to him nicely and politely. My grandson is intelligent. He will understand”… And I would get away!!
But he did teach me discipline too. He would often come to stay at our place on weekends. Sunday was my favourite day, as I could rise up late that day. But not when Grandpa was around. He would come and sit besides me on my bed, early in the morning, and start chatting with me. He shook me holding my shoulders, and would say, “Do you hear me?? Come on, wake up, and talk to your Grandpa.” That was his way to teach me to rise early, even on a Sunday.
As a kid again, I was not so tidy, when it came to my room, or study table. My study table had books and pens all over the place. The cricket bat, stumps, the ball, and a dozens of comic books, just lied here and there in my room. Grandpa never said anything, but he used to quietly start working on the table, putting the books in order, pen in the pen-container and the comic books in their rightful place in the cabinet. And then he used to tell me, “I should see your room neat and clean like this, the next time I come here.” And next time, when I came to know Grandpa was coming, first thing I did was clean my room neat and tidy.
Grandpa had always been the person, I could trust to look back on, when some of my stubborn “demands” were turned away by my parents. And not to miss the ice-creams and those expensive chocolate packs that I got without any demand. I would pounce on them with delight… but would grumble when Grandpa called me to his bed, and told me to massage his legs. Then he would say, “You are lucky you have a Grandpa … I had never seen mine… And you will remember me after I go…”
But when it came to his birthday, I had my special way of wishing him. I gathered all my crayons, water colours, paints and brushes, made a greeting card, paint it with my best drawings, and birthday wishes, decorate the cards with rose petals, and on his birthday, gift it to him while wishing him. The joy that showed when he saw those cards was enormous. He treasured all those cards with him. The rose petals would dry away and wither. But the cards still rested there, safe and sound, decorating his table in his cabin of the Cloth Store that was now run by his sons. Rested on that same table, there always lied my photo. And when customers often asked him, “Who is that?” he would proudly say, “That’s my grandson!”
As I grew up, inspired by the IT revolution, I aspired to be a Software Engineer. Grandpa was happy about my ambition, and always asserted and adviced me that I should try my luck in Bangalore, as his favourite newspaper “The Economic Times” told him about the IT opportunities there. He was always eager to see me kick-off my career.
That day, was my first day at office. This was my first job, after graduation. Though I was preparing for my post-graduation entrance, I decided to take up this modest data-entry job, just to get the industry exposure, and keep myself busy. As the bus headed towards office, I looked outside the window, and thought… “I should meet Grandpa and tell him about my new job today evening. Though this is not what I want to do, he will still be happy about my first job!” And I made up my mind to meet him that evening.
That evening when I reached home, the door was locked. My parents are out I thought. And I went to the neighbour’s house where they usually kept the key if they had to go out. The lady came out holding the key. Her face was surprisingly straight, and dull. She said in a low voice, “I am sorry to inform you, but your Grandpa expired today. Your parents wanted to call you. But today was your first day in office. They didn’t have any contact number to reach you.”
The ground below me collapsed that second. I could not believe what I was hearing. I wanted to meet Grandpa this evening. Tell him about my first job. Tell him about my post-graduation plans. And my career aspirations. He would be happy to hear it I thought. But now he was gone… Gone forever. And I could not even pay my last respects to him. Destiny had painted a very unfortunate picture of my Grandpa’s farewell.
But that wasn’t his farewell. He always remained, and still is alive in my memories. And on his birthday (11 July) I dedicate this writing to him, as I remember him... Now I know what he meant, when he said, “You will remember me when I go!”
Very touchy
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