Dearest God
I was very close to my nanaji. He was
particularly fond of me as I was my mom’s first born. I was born in Bhagalpur
which was his last posting. He was the first one to hold me right after my
birth. He named me laxmi which meant goddess of wealth. He was a disciplinarian
and stuck to his routine. I remember as kids he use to wake us up early on a
holiday and take us for a morning walk near a lake park and while coming back
we used to feed the ducks. He insisted I read the newspaper daily and then
summarize the editorial in my own words. I used to hate it. I was in fifth standard
back then. He use to visit us regularly over the vacations. But irrespective of
the fact whether he came over or we visited him, his routine of making me
summarize the editorial never changed. I remember he was surprised at my
sophisticated language and complimented me. I was just annoyed at him for
making me miss my TV show to do the stupid writing. His visits meant less TV
and more books. Any book for that matter. It’s probably that which lead all
three of us to become such voracious readers. Voracious to the extent that my
parents would have to snatch the books from our hands. We read at every
opportunity we got.
As we grew up we stopped visiting our grandparents. Life caught
on. Exams , entrances etc kept us busy. But my money order came unfailingly. I
use to receive a money order ever year on my birthday with a customized message.
That 500 rupees funded a medium dominoes
pizza with garlic bread and cheese dip. It was a real treat. Over the years we
have fondly reminiscence his strict demeanor and the strong voice. We have
enacted his peculiar way of scolding us and shared a good laugh. I can recall when I enrolled in Ph. D, he
called me to congratulate me. He asked me about my research topic and area of
research. He spoke for very long about the case study area as he was posted
there for some time. The year I joined Jamia as a faculty in 2012, I visited
him after a very longtime. He had grown older but was active enough to sit and
chat with me. He was very proud of me. He read all my articles and gave his
expert comments. During my final Ph. D submission, I even got an extra copy of
my thesis printed just to send it to my nanaji. It was a complete surprise and
he was ever so glad. He called me the day he received my thesis and thanked me
over the phone several times. I was choking on tears hearing how happy he was. I
send him the copy of my first book. His reaction was priceless. He was always
supportive of everything I did. Of late I developed an interest in running half
marathons and he was amused at my endurance. I was supposed to run a half
marathon two days after he passed away. My heart wasn’t in it. But I thought
this time he will be able to see me run. So I ran and finished anyway.
And now that he is gone I can feel the void. I am filled
with the realization I am never going to see him again…. I will never get to
talk him or hear his voice. I will never hear him brag about me. I will never
hear him call me “ gudiya”. And the more I think about him, the more I feel
sorry for my nani. He was her whole life. They were married for more than 70
years. She used to call him sahib. How can anyone fill that gap. A companion of
life gone. As far as my recollection goes I can only remember my nani do two
things. One ardently pray and another, take care of my nanaji.
It is so surprising to think that all of us have successfully
convinced ourselves of our immortality. We often forget how frugal and fragile
life is? How blessed we are to be just breathing? Breathing …which we so
precariously take for granted. The mere inhale and exhale is what holds the
delicate thread of life. The thread of life which binds our emotions and
relations together.
Somewhere in the fast pace of life we have forgotten one
simple fact. We are travelers on this planet. Our time on this revolving orb
which rotates and revolves ( blimey..talk about multi tasking) is limited. The only
sure thing in life is death or transition, as our elders have led us to believe
we are forms of energy and energy can neither be created nor destroyed. It can
only change its form. Nonetheless, wherever he is, I hope he is at peace.
Miss you terribly.
