(32) MY GRANDFATHER

Idea of writing about my grandfather crossed my mind several times in recent months. I managed to postpone it with good reasons always…like-i will take out quality time to do justice to my feelings about him, like-let him feel little better with his health, like- let him come back home from the repetitive long term admissions to hospital with short term home-staying, like –recent one,my laptop not in working condition for such a long time,like- the latest, my curiosity about the issuance and non-issuance of UK visa so that I could push off along with Dheeraj ….and such reasons kept me from writing about him. Perhaps…it was destined. I had to write about him using the word..WAS..

5th Sep,Teacher’s day and I was all sure to write about everyone who taught me wonderful lessons ,though being or not, my official teachers. Morning 10.30, I received call from my mom informing my grandfather’s demise. Though expected owing to his extended illness over years, that news shook me down all the more listening to my mom’s dazed voice, who was left with the job of informing everyone , my father and grand mother being in the hospital doing formalities to get my Dadaji’s body back home. The least I could do at the earliest to help my mom was to inform other relatives on her behalf and I offered the suggestion to her, not knowing how dire that task could be.More people I called, more sadness I gathered and could not wait to rush home at the earliest. Dheeraj checked all possible transportation means which could facilitate me to see my dadaji for the last time, but my hard luck, the earliest Hyderabad-Mumbai flight was late in the evening which could take me to valsad not any early before midnight and ofcourse no train either could take me there that fast. Disappointed, I took the afternoon train to Mumbai alongwith Dheeraj and Charvi.
Throughout the journey..memories of time spent with my grandpa kept flashing through my mind and tears pouring through my eyes.My grandfather…my father’s father..a simple man with minimal requirements, few rules, good values and hard working spirit. He walked like Rajdhani and we could never match his pace except with running. Whenever on off-duty, he would drop us school, sometimes pick us up back,and of course after he got retired from his government Railways job, he brought us fresh hot food for lunch, from home to school during recess timings. He taught us good manners, he scolded us for wrong deeds.Being kids, we always unliked him for his loud snoring during sleep and his habit of insisting us to eat green vegetables.We never saw him tired or exhausted unless until, seven years back when he slipped on a sticky surface and got fracture in his knee.One small accident caused him disgust for rest of life.Gradually, he started becoming more and more weak and ineffective. Became more dependable on medicines than food. During last three years, his health deteriorated and he became completely bed-ridden. My grandma and my parents devoted their entire schedule and time towards taking care of him. Eventually, he lost partial movements, proper speech and bit of memory. His body acquired sores throughout and he was laid on the water bed for last one year.On all my visits during last three years, I found him growing more victim to his diseases. I felt so proud of my father who spent most of his time with his father helping him do his daily activities. My father would give him a bath, help him with toilet, feed him all the meal and do all this bearing the constant reluctance and annoyance of my grandpa who was completely frustrated with this stage of life.
I felt very helpless to loose a great mentor of our lives. I was dying to see him one last time but as I knew it wouldn’t be possible, I called my brother who had reached home in time, and asked him hesitatingly to take a snap of my grandpa before they take him for the last rituals.I was thinking whether I should envy my brother who could see dadaji for the last time or I should feel sorry for him and his pain to bid that sorrowful good-bye.
We reached Mumbai early next morning and went to valsad by road with our relative in his car. Earlier always,,when we went home, we would directly go to the third main entrance of the house which would lead us to Maa-Dada’s room(grandmother-grandfather’s room) , but this time, I knew I had to enter the first entrance and find myself amongst the people lamenting the same loss I was doing throughout the way. My father with a bald head sitting on the floor,my mom,aunt,grandma and many other relatives sitting on the floor- mat spreaded there. I surprised myself by not letting out a single drop of tear while hugging almost everyone present there, especially when I am the kind of emotional person who would start crying on seeing even a stranger in misery.Maybe I had done lot of crying a night before, or may be I felt my grandpa’s present everywhere in the house.
During our three day stay over there, besides being gifted with the true to life photo of the last sight of my grandpa, I came across different feelings and learnt varied lessons. I was happy to see how people respected and remembered my dadaji, but I also felt bad about the absence of some people/relatives who should and who could have been there well in time before I reached, perhaps…these are the times when you come to know who are your true relatives. I also got surprised to see those few people crying like insane on my grandpa’s demise, who had not even bothered to check out his health during last seven years or even seen him during last ten years. Well, may be this is some kind of social art or compulsion.
Nevertheless, this event brought the end to the prolonged sufferings and agony my grandfather was going through and the hardtimes other people were having to see him in pain. No doubt, this loss can never be compensated, but we have to look on the positive side of the occurrence and that is, his relief .