Merry Christmas, folks!
I'm home.
This time I am not here to meet my family and friends, running around all over the city.
This time I am not here to meet my teachers, my tutors, their family.
This time I wasn't even supposed to be here!
I was supposed to be in New Delhi, in 1201, RGHG, DU. Probably cribbing to Gyan, my roommate, about the weather, or about how I am still undecided about my next course of action.
But I am here. Home. On my favourite couch.
My maternal grandfather is no more.
I am here to attend his last rites.
He was 92, ailing.
I did not cry.
I did not mourn his death. Even for one moment.
I was relieved to hear of his death.
I have always associated my Dadu with mental agility.
He was Dhaka University's Gold Medallist.
Masters in Chemistry. Worked with ICI.
Anti-corrosion was his field of research.
He is published with the Tata-McGraw-Hill.
Well read. Updated with the news.
He could talk to you about every field with super fine ease and, might I add, grace?
He was a stalwart. My grand old man.
I am most proud of him.
Yet I was relieved to know that he has passed away.
After a gap of 10 months, I was home in October 2012, during the autumn break for a week.
I was told he was unwell. May be severely ill.
I was advised that I must go see him.
I obliged my parents.
He was but a shadow of his 10 months back former self.
He was lying there on the bed. He looked tired.
But Dadu has been through a lot before also. Nothing matters as long as he is talking.
He could barely speak. I couldn't hear him.
But he spoke, and he asked who I am.
I was shattered. I cried that day, bitterly.
My Dadu couldn't recognise his "Nayadidi", as he used to call me.
He couldn't even remember me.
Two months later, at 7 am my phone rang on a wintery December morning.
It was my Didi calling from my mother's phone.
I picked up, she tried to do some small talk, and I asked, if it's about Dadu?
She asked me how had I gotten to know?
Answer is, I knew. I think, I was praying for too long.
I bought tickets on waiting list for the 1st time.
Poorva Express. Not Rajdhani or Duronto, because the wait list was the shortest on Poorva.
I almost missed my train. It was a classic Jab We Met train catching scenario. Running all the way up from the platform of the New Delhi metro station.
I made a friend on the train.
I spent some INR 350 talking to my family and a 'friend'.
I saw the Indian railways clock turn 00:00 at the Kanpur station, something that I have never seen before, because Duronto does not stop at Kanpur and Rajdhani reaches Kanpur at 9pm.
I ate well cooked chicken biryani on Poorva.
Waited at Raniganj station for 7 hours.
Well, there were quite a few 1st times.
And I came home.
Train was delayed by 11 hours. 4 hours for fog, 7 hours for a derailed goods train near Andal.
My parents and my sister waited for me at the station the whole night.
It was 22nd. The day of the Shraddh ceremony.
I reached Howrah at 03:35. We waited for the 2nd local train. 04:47 Up Bandel Local.
Reached home at 06:00.
We didn't sleep the whole night.
Relatives and guests were to come.
The day passed by.
I played a warm hostess in a family gathering. 200 people had come. 1st time.
I helped with the arrangements. Ran errands here and there. 1st time.
Took serious responsibilities and actually saw them through. 1st time.
Being the youngest in the family, never had to do anything serious at family events.
But now, with Dadu no more, I am the 2nd generation in these family affairs, my parents and uncle were 1st.
With my only 1st maternal cousin Rup not around for serious reasons, I was the only young gun present.
I did my bit.
I was all grown up.
The second and cousins had come.
We were all cheerful to see each other after ages!
We caught up, cracked jokes at each others' expense.
Everybody was happy.
With Dadu gone, an era came to an end.
The gathering was not mournful. He had seen his share of life. He had done his bit in this world.
But most importantly he was ailing. He was no more the sharp, agile, smart Dadu I knew all my life.
He made us only happy.
Even when he breathed his last.
In the last few days, I grew up, a little more.
My list of 1sts grew a little longer.
And hopefully made my late grand old man a little more proud of his Nayadidi.
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| The Gathering at the Shraddh |
