Category Archives: Baba

My Google, My Life!

“I don’t want to go to school”, said a bawling 3 year old.
“I will take you down and then if you do not like it, we will come back”, said a loving, reassuring voice in response. And off they went in a white old ambassador, with a mouse trap securely placed at the rear end of the car, the rat scratching the wooden cage, trying to break free.
The multi colored Ravalgon mithai (sweetmeats) were religiously kept in a military green colored tin cupboard. They were replaced with utmost sincerity once out of stock.
The teak leaves were ceremoniously picked, so that the deer in the park had their fill through the net like structure, visibly enlarged at equidistant points.
Both of them waited outside the temple with a book in hand, reading away, on every Monday & Saturday, waiting for the better half to offer her prayers, talk to the beggar alongside and walk back with her black and white colored stick.
He fondly called her “Fatty, fatty, bum bullati”.
He was open to the millions of questions she had on every topic under the sun. He introduced her to the world of mashed potatoes and boiled eggs, bacon & ham, Blyton & Dickens.
He took her along to book fairs and he took her down his childhood almost at the drop of a hat. The gong at breakfast, the rickshaw rides down to college, the endearing story of his village born-scientist turned father and his God fearing, superstitious mother , the amusing anecdotes and funny Odiya poems….all of it turned her into a deep rooted individual.
He never rebuked any of what she dreamt, no matter how outlandish it was or how far fetched others thought it to be. He loved her and carried her around proudly in a white fairy ensemble in his son’s marriage. He fought against kin to prove her merit. He believed in her to a degree, she found difficult to fathom even in her wildest dreams.
He taught her how to drive. He sat beside her till 12 in the night when she was studying and woke her up at 4 again. He had tears in his eyes when she achieved what she dreamt of.
He spoke to her about her love, the importance of a partner who completes you in more ways than one, the much debated pre marital sex and the work life balance. He understood her more than her erstwhile partner did.
He never belittled her when she wanted to take a trip around the country in a bike, inspired by Che. He knew it will pass, just as she did. All she wanted was someone to understand how precious the thought was. He did.
She would wake him up at 3 am to talk, about nothing significant. He was more than willing to. She was stifled. He knew it. She was hurt. He knew it.
He opened up to her in a manner he previously never did. She knew how exactly it felt.
He sat down on the black side handle of the bed and cursed the cricket players for playing in a slipshod fashion. She smiled.
He functioned like clockwork. She thought punctuality was passé.
He was her soulmate. She was his life.
He was 80.She was 22.

This post is dedicated to my grandfather for loving me unconditionally, for being the non judgmental person he is and for making me the person I am.Love you beyond measure, Baba.


Posted by on January 9, 2011 in Baba


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