Grandparents. How important are they in your life? We often take them as a liability, not realising how we would feel in their absence. I have always - if not physically then mentally - been very close to all four of my grandparents. My favourites were my grandfathers. Why? That is a question still unanswered by me. Maybe it was just an unrequited attachment from my side…which is there till today. I come from a family where everyone was or is from the army, but I feel more like I belong to a royal family. While surely the military institution is a class apart, the royal feeling comes from the status and respect that my grandfathers commanded. They are still remembered and honoured today. For me they have always had an aura. They make me feel proud.
My nanaji was tall, handsome, with blue eyes and a husky laugh and was always offering me help in my studies. I remember the day he came to our place when my 9th birthday was just four days away. Mom, dad and I said bye to him before leaving our house to buy some birthday goodies. That bye was a goodbye forever. Till then I had never seen the death of anyone close. Six years later it was harder to see my dadaji go. We celebrated a common birthday. It is still very fresh in my mind. The way he would walk out of the house, with his wooden stick in hand, a golf cap (only when he was going for special outings), brown specs, and saying ‘waah beti waah’ to me every time with a faint smile (as I opened the door for him). He had a habit of writing a diary every day, no matter what. He preserved letters from his World War II days. A meticulous man. He bid us goodbye with his blessings.
My grandmothers, not very educated, were liberal enough in their thoughts. My dadiji I think was one of the most broad-minded people of her time. However, she could be real obstinate. You put one extra morsel of rice in her plate and she would just not eat it. This annoying habit is now part of our funny memories. Unlike my dadaji, who just loved every type of food and was fond of eating, my dadi would just relish the Haryanvi ‘cuisine’. My first churma was made by her. My first sweet pakoras (gulgule) were made by my naniji. She was a leukaemia patient for the last 11 years of her life. She was an inspiration to anybody who met her. She has borne a lot in her early days. She was determined, strong, organised and independent (at least tried to be). She was a most stylish and elegant woman. She loved dressing up and was conscious of how she looked; she was fond of socialising. This would be the first monsoon when I will not be devouring a dishful of my ever favourite gulgulas made by naniji. She didn’t get time to say goodbye.
Today I don’t have any of my grandparents – those wondereful folk who would sit with me for hours and tell me stories. I know they will never come back. If there is a minute possibility that they can, I just want to thank them for all the wonderful memories – there are so many. I know my parents too will be grandparents someday and I want my children to value them the way I do mine.
‘We all should cherish every second of our hellos, because a goodbye may be a goodbye forever’.
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