Eight summers have passed since my grandfather departed to meet the creator. I am yet to process this acrid reality in the laboratory of my mind.
This well-built man with sparkling eyes took a quick flight with angels. His fervent laughter reverberates in my ears. His death has created a vacuum.
I was put under the guardianship of my grandparents in Nawakadal since my parents were office-goers. I have experienced limitless love, authentic affection and classic care.
My Nana, the head, was the owner of an incorruptible character; the most revered man of his time. He was vigour personified. His signature tweed coats were designed for auspicious occasions. Those dull coloured coats smelt of fresh roses.
A green moon-star tattoo on his left hand mesmerised me throughout my childhood. Nana was a man of dignity and integrity. This made him irascibly impetuous. He called me the beat of his heart and the light of his eyes. His high spirited words are what I long for.
Nana’s green bicycle was the most luxurious mode of transport back then. My baby seat was reserved at the front. We would tour across downtown. My weekly visits to the Grand Mosque in Nowhatta with him were an exceptional exercise. Nana taught in a local government school.
His fascination for decimals, integers, fractions would put me at loggerheads with him. I never succeeded in escaping from home school. I vividly remember Class 3rd primary when he introduced me to the basics of algebra.
My winter holidays would pass learning countries-capitals-currencies. He believed in Know More -No Less. He made me memorise the poem ‘Still I Rise’’ by Maya Angelou at the age of 8. So proud of my academic performance in school; he instilled a studious spirit in me.
The incredible badminton matches with him added spark to my life. I would grind my brain playing chess with him. An indefatigable man, his energy reflected in his love for those scripted wrestling fights.
Post 2006, his smiles receded. Every sunrise brought loss in his vitality. The thorns of unwanted solitude pinched him hard. His eyes became sunken and dull. His body shrunk mercilessly. Broken expectations snatched his sleep. Heartbreaks turned his old age into a punishment. Soon he reached a crescendo and almost collapsed in 2009 with a major heart attack.
He survived, miraculously. A minor head injury and he was bed-ridden. It was December 2013. I distinctly remember the day I went to see him. He was passively positioned on the bed.
I placed my hand on his head and kissed his watery eyes. I held his cold hands tightly; a sincere and reassuring smile laced his lips. In minutes, my vision blurred, my heartbeat raced, time froze.
My Nana – the one who called me by the most beautiful names was unable to recall my name. His restless screams shook the walls of the house in the dead of night. Even his dutiful and faithful better half could not pacify him.
Seven months passed. His health improved in bits. In peak of summer 2014, Nana promised that he would visit me the coming weekend. It has been eight years, he is yet to fulfil his promise.
The native never returned. Naana was my first school. The time I spent with him is irreplaceable and invaluable. The crown of my clan, he lives in the marrow of my bones. He never doubted my capabilities, not even once.
Life dances on the tones of death. Death is dreadful. Life is unpredictable. The news about his demise felt like a dagger in my chest. He was my default defender, covering up my mistakes like a loyal lawyer. My empathetic friend moved to the other world , never to return.
Death stares at everyone. It spares none. There is no way to foretell when grief will take your breath away, send you scurrying to the places where no one can see the big fat tears trickling down your cheeks.
My life has not been the same since my compassionate Naana left for the eternal journey. The void his demise created stares back at me. He always taught me to strive, struggle and stand apart. He was once in a millennium soul.
Dear Naana, the resilience you were born with kept you going with sanity till your last breath. You were an ever-inspiring energy. You touched my heart, profoundly. Gifted with a creative and thinking brain, you added value to the words and ideas I shared with you.
I don’t know how to write this farewell note, I don’t know how to squeeze the memories into this obituary. I just want you to come to me so that I can sit beside you and listen to the powerful tales you used to narrate.
Can you come back? I also know that death has its own ethics to follow and rules to implement. The icy claws of death snatched you from me forever and ever. I love you. RIP Daddy.
Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are the personal opinions of the author.
The facts, analysis, assumptions and perspective appearing in the article do not reflect the views of GK.