This diwali will be the diwali I will remember the most. This diwali is the first diwali that I didn’t celebrate. But strangely enough, I didn’t feel like I was missing out on something. It was a rather beautiful quiet moment I shared at home with my father, mother, brother and grandmother.
My grandfather died a few weeks ago. We feel his lack and I, more so, for I was terribly close to him and loved him with all my heart. Watching him disintegrate physically through his illness was the most agonising experience for me. Watching a 6 feet tall man who was an epitome of power in his times, slowly lose his mobility was most heart rendering. I can never forget that one line he always taught me from The Gita: “Karm kar, phal ki iccha mat kar”…loosely translating to “do your duty and don’t expect anything in return”. In today’s materialistic selfish world does this even make sense? I don’t know… but I like to think it does… I think it is one line that makes me the person I am today and I am grateful to my granpa for that. I can sleep in peace when I know that I have shown my genuine concern to someone who is unwell, knowing well that he may never bother even if I am in the hospital, I feel at ease with my otherwise constricted heart when I don’t harbour bitterness and malice against someone who has wronged me, but instead forgive and move on. Why expect? Expectations lead to disappointments. I think our grandparents are a storehouse of wisdom that, to many may seem like utter crap at this point of time, but later it will be the only thing that will make sense and the only worldly wisdom that they will carry on.
I miss my grandfather…miss so many things about him…like sharing fruits (he always bought kilos for me and himself and we sat together and gorged on them while he told me a little story from his life), going on walks with him (we always went on walks and carried with us 2 oranges that we sat in the woods and ate)…during my board exams, he woke up in the middle of the night to make me tea so I stayed awake to study, he showered me with such massive amount of love that I felt I could drown in joy, he called me “sona baccha”…he called me “Indira Gandhi”, for he thought I was rather bossy and could be a politician one day (and I also had really short hair that time)…I was his favourite grandchild…I am the first grandchild… I was the constant name on his lips when he cried in pain during his last few days… and I feel miserable now for I think I could have been a lot more with him but I didn’t… but he always knew I loved him and I still love him and he is like this presence keeping a watch on me, asking me and telling me “karm kar, phal ki iccha mat kar”…
It was a quiet diwali, I missed my grandfather…I shared a sentimental moment in my grandmother’s arms while tears involuntarily welled up my eyes, there were no words exchanged…but yet there was this silent understanding…that he was a wonderful man and that we were lucky to have him in our lives…he enriched my life, he made me a better human being, he taught me that if you love someone, say it… I was his greatest fan and still am… for me, he is the best grandfather I could have ever had, and still is… and in the whispering, shimmering diyas and in the hazy smoke of incense, I feel his warmth and his protective embrace… and though we are not technically celebrating diwali, I am festive in myself, in the ethereal glow of the night and in the memories of my darling grandpa.
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