In Memoriam

Dear Dida,

It’s been a while since we’ve talked. I just wanted to let you know that I’m doing fine. Yes, I know what you might be thinking. Abaar mithya? Aami soab jaani. Well, I can’t completely deny your inkling either. It’s more like a yes and no. Yes, I’m fine but at the same time, there’s an inner conscience contemplating -- am I, really? Life is neither monochromatic nor binary. Maybe, that’s the problem. I feel jubilant and euphoric at times whenever I accomplish a task these days -- however exiguous those achievements might be. Does that make me peculiar? That’s very subjective, and I’m pretty sure many others feel the way I do. Albeit, I realize in hindsight that I’d allowed myself to be deceived by a ploy to mask my despondency or to alleviate my pangs of agony. 

I would make no bones about it by stating that it isn’t because any person is bothering me in any way. And yet, this feeling is inexplicable in mere words. You would probably be musing -- why am I saying this to you? After all, we’ve had our differences. I needed someone whom I can confide in, who wouldn’t be overly judgmental, and most importantly comprehend my situation. And instantly, I could think of only one person -- you.

Recall how you used to save me or my brother from dad’s wrath whenever we pestered him? How you staunchly took a stand against the didactic maxim of ‘spare the rod and spoil the child.’ With the kind of opportunities that the two siblings caused for exacerbating grievances, you’ve been incredibly patient, unlike the other petulant grown-ups.

The summer trips to our native village used to be very cumbersome and uneventful. But you know that already. My constant whining about the inanity of being holed up at a comparatively less developed place is something that I made well known. And yet, I must admit my astonishment whenever I saw you & dadubhai keeping a nightly vigil at the gate, warily waiting for us to arrive and the taut, long visages changing to a feeling of relief. The reasons would always remain the same. What if the car broke down in the middle of the road? What if a bunch of bandits accosted you amid your journey? What if there’s an earthquake or cyclone? We have plenty of reasons to worry about, sonny. As unlikely as each of those mishaps were to occur, many a time it made tears well up in my eyes just because of the sheer concern that was there. 

You know, now that I think about it, we’re similar in some ways. Even though I'd never admitted it frankly and would leave no stone unturned to disassociate myself from any attributes of yours. We were both inclined to relapse into sessions of rumination and self-introspection. And how fascinating would it be to nettle others into rationalizing pragmatism whilst we were deemed as unideal fanatics! Only the delivery differed significantly and also symbolically -- one having a penchant for penning it down whereas the other exercised soliloquy with a certain fondness for loquacity. Both dining philosophers in their varying ways -- save the fact that there was no conundrum for synchronization or any resource conflict. 

When dadubhai passed away, I became very distraught. It was as if I’d lost an inherent part of myself in the process. And ever since I’ve felt pangs of regret (to this day) -- of how I couldn’t be there for him till the very end -- a responsible grandson who should have fulfilled his needs and desires and be a mitigating light when he breathed his last. I might not have cried my heart out in front of everybody but it was because I felt that it was not opportune to wail and create a scene in front of everybody. When in reality, I’ve always thought that it was very unfair and that his demise was premature. I didn’t realize it then, but it was you who looked out for me incessantly and stood by me through thick and thin. 

Our relationship has been sophisticated, to say the least, and you can imagine the dilemma that I was embroiled in. It was akin to a newly-wed boy (or even marriages where a substantial amount of time has been spent together), hailing from a family with conservative and orthodox beliefs, who is unwittingly compelled to pick sides in all trifling squabbles of typical Indian saas-bahu  -- and consequently, suffer the consequences of displeasure and animosity if he doesn’t prefer someone over the other -- be it his mother or wife. The only altered scenario was that I was the grandson.

Believe me, it used to put me in an often unpleasant situation. Whenever I’d sift narratives to decide which personage was more right in any situation, it was with a heavy heart that I did so. And the objective was to pacify both parties righteously. I’ve never considered myself to be endowed with the tactfulness that is quintessential to solve disputes. But it had stirred up disaffection to the extent that I was often viewed as an adversarial companion rather than an unbiased family member. 

I can, however, empathize with whatever you were accustomed to -- the desolation of old age, the invariable condescension & mockery that you were subjected to, the tauntingly disparaging jibes behind your back and the unnerving deprecation. I’d have given everyone an earful of -- let’s just say more than simplistic cuss words. But, I must admit that it somewhat astounds me how you end up defending those who wished ill for you, even more so, by elucidating that they don’t mean any malice (when we both know from the bottom of our hearts, that this wasn’t the case). I hope that it doesn’t sound flattering (remember how you used to rebuke us for insincerely complimenting others?) but this is something that even our Father of the Nation had very much emphasized during the Independence struggle → “an eye for an eye will make the whole world blind.” Your non-vengeful demeanour was really admirable.

I expect nothing more from you. I confess that I’ve always been a very demanding grandson. I don’t nurse any more grievances and grudges. It all feels childish when I take a peek into my past. I realize that you were merely a human -- just like so many of us. But we were impatient and irreverent. Maybe you don’t deserve callous people like us. Maybe you were subjected to much more injustice than we acknowledge. But it will not change the fact that since you passed away in October last year, there has been a gaping void that can never be filled. 

I never thought I would say it earnestly, but I miss you. I might not have overtly sobbed during the funeral, but my heartfelt hollow and emptiness in the face of grim tidings. It was like a part of my identity was gone -- someone who had in a way molded me into the man that I’m today. I’m letting any miscomprehensions betwixt us be bygones. In return, I could only ask for forgiveness and absolution for the sins that I’ve committed knowingly and unknowingly. I hope that I’ll meet you in another lifetime. Hasta la vista and adieu. 

Yours lovingly,

Priyanshu