Some memories - My grandfather

This is a sort of continuation from yesterday's post regarding the passing away of D's father. What memories will Baby A have of her grandfather. I lost my grandfather when I was almost 7.

I was in class, when cousin V and the maid walked in.  It was the last period of the day. The maid said something to my class teacher and teacher said I could leave school early. I was paying more attention to the fact that cousin V was wearing my sleeveless frock and carrying one of my dolls. I used to share reluctantly. "Grandpa is dead," she said in her American accented English. I did not believe her as playing pranks was second nature to her. We picked up my brother from his class and we made our way home.

I remember telling her I didn't believe her, and she kept insisting it's true. My bua had come down for her bi-yearly visit. I remember my dadi (her nani) being a bit different then. She wanted to give more love and attention to cousin V. Dadi-bua would spend the whole day chatting and there would be some grievances aired, some tears, consolations, gossip about other relatives, etc. As children you realize things later. I was never close to my bua. Even though she brought candy and chocolates and nice-smelling gifts. The day before there had been an argument about dadi wanting to give away all her jewels and sarees to her daughter. My dada had admonished her. He never used to raise his voice otherwise. My parents were still at work. We children gave up trying to play, soon all was quiet.

As we neared home, cousin V and me were still arguing. Our house was at the end of the street. I realised that maybe she was right, when I saw some v. different sights. There were scooters and bikes parked outside our home - not normal. And a lot of people. As we entered inside my heart sank, I saw my dada's body lying on the floor of the drawing room, dressed in a white dhoti. They were already preparing for the  cremation. Amidst all the chaos and crowd of people, I saw my Mother sobbing in a corner surrounded by ladies, my dadi on her chair weeping loudly and my Father with the men, head bowed down.

Somebody sent us all to B Aunty's house on another street for lunch and keep us of out the way too. I remember one thing we ate was apple jam. When we came back home in the evening, most of the people had gone. All the elders were dressed in white, dadi had not combed her hair, and had removed her nose-stud. My father was still away at the cremation ground. There was a feeling of heaviness and silence, nobody was talking too much.  A diya was lit where dada's head rested. I asked my Mother what happened and she told me dada had suffered a heart-attack, and they tried a lot but couldn't make him better.

My dada was a fun person to be with. Every evening after tea he sat on the verandah to watch the world go by. I used to sit on his lap after school and tell him made-up stories. He had well-manicured nails and would scratch my back in places I could not reach. He was an early riser and would eat neem leaves, gud and whole peppercorns every day. I remember the way he would tease my dadi and make her smile. He had a step-mother who was not v. kind to him and I used to feel v. sad for him. I liked watching him shave. I did not like sharing him with cousin V. He used to always point out birds and flowers on our walks. So many little things that leave your life with the person.

I don't recollect in detail many things that happened then and later. As children and sometimes even as adults one tends to focus on things affecting oneself only. I just don't remember what my brother did all that time. There was the shradh for 13 days, a prayer meeting, lot of people came to offer condolence. My dadi gave up eating mangoes, my parents resumed with their jobs, my bua and cousin V returned to the US. We did not celebrate my birthday that year, Diwali was subdued too, but my father did buy a few crackers for us. I wish I had more time to be with him, but I have to make do with the memories I have of him.