heroic
There is (and shouldn’t be) no such thing as being strong when you have lost someone you loved and lived with since the day you were born. Someone whose hands have fed you, wiped away your tears, have put you to sleep on feverish nights? It is the way of the world to say, be strong, be strong, be strong. What does strong look like when your support systems take an exit from the mortal world? What happens to you? Do you know how to define that word anymore? What good does a strong front do to you? Will it get you closer to the one who’s gone or even closure?
lime
I never learnt how to make nimbu paani. Since childhood, dadi was mostly the one who made this drink for us. The taste of the excess sugar (what good is the lime then?) will always linger on my mouth. The warmth of the cool drink made by her tiny, soft hands (the best hands to hold) will forever linger in my heart. The true delight on our faces, both hers and ours, lingers, no matter how far we are from each other in this moment.
frustration
Perhaps grief will never arrive alone at your heart’s door. There are other feelings chained to it and every single one of these feelings is real. The anger, regret, the frustration, the rare moment of joy, as well as the betrayal. Feel all of these the same way you feel grief. Perhaps only then grief will have the opportunity to turn into something else. Perhaps only then will the healing begin.
garden
In the garden she has moved to now, how do the flowers serve her? Do the beautiful things in the evergreen paradise of the clouds remind her of us? What do the moths and insects speak to her of? Make a note: after life is over, there is no way you are going to a place without flowers. Who else will speak to you of the sweet memories you made here on earth? Where else do you drink the nectar of love from? How else would connect you to those you’ve left behind?
cyclical
This is the way it is. I lost a grandparent. A niece was born. Lost another grandparent. I will lose another. And another. In the future, someone somewhere will lose me. This is the way it is. But then why do our hearts never accept these things the way they were? Why do we weep, howl, cry, fall apart, lose our grasp on ourselves and reality? This is the way it is and yet I forever find myself wishing that this is not the way I want it to be.
hundred
If I had my way, I would make sure all my grandparents lived a hundred years I would trade anything to make this happen, only if I knew which forces and gods to appeal to.
ripe
The mangoes only had to show signs of yellowing and there she was, ready to cut several for us to eat. I haven’t learnt to cut mangoes yet as well. Why? The answer to that is right here.
crisis
In moments of childhood crises, it is not the parent a child goes to but the grandparent. It will always remain this way until the time arrives to part ways with each other.
Do I dare ask — what happens once they are gone?
axe
The only feeling that can be used to describe how she was taken away from us. The tree all of us leaned on, cut down in one swift, merciless stroke.
ambition
I think of all the ambitions that dadi had and the ones she fulfilled and the ones I never knew of. Of all the ambitions that she saw us through, helped us reach closer to, step by step, no matter how trivial. Of all the ambitions we have now and the ones she will never see us fulfill. Of the ones we will have and will never be able to share with her.
burial
We did not even get to see her for the last five days of her glorious life. There are a lot of people that can be blamed and yet no one to be blamed. The world is a strange place right now, hungry to snatch away a lot of good from us.
I cannot believe someone can prepare for their last rites as meticulously as she did. Is that also a dream all humans have — how we depart from the mortal world is also our plan to make and execute? By sheer luck, she went the way she wished to, on a pile of wood and fire while tears poured down from the eyes of those who watched the flames change to smoke and ash. And yet, be strong, they say.
embrace
On most days, we would envelop her from both sides, hugging her tiny frame, sneakily tickling her. At the end of the day, when we wished her goodnight, she would bring our hands to her mouth, leaving a soft warm touch to last us until the next embrace. I am awaiting the next time I can embrace her, even if that time comes after a hundred years. It would be worth all the wait.
room
We’ve spent most of our time in the same room as her. So many years of having her body next to ours on the same bed, so much time spent listening to her whispers in the middle of the night. Multiple beds but always the same stories, same love. Only the prayers changed — each night, each year.
protect
I wish we could have protected her from this. More than that, I wish she was here to protect us from the things headed towards us. So many wishes that didn’t come true and yet I pray to the god that listened to her till the very end.
In memory of dadi. I miss you.
