April 14, 2006
A tribute to thatha
On wednesday morning, April 12th, I was awoken to the urgent news of thatha’s (my grandpa) last moments. By the time I reached his bedside, he was no more. Semi-shock turned to complete shock. Disbelief. I held on to his hand but he refused to squeeze it one last time. Suddenly, I felt like the same little girl who had watched him throughout, unable to do anything to lessen the pain. And now, there was nothing I could do. I knew this was for the better. That further suffering was not what he deserved. That he’d atleast, after 2 weeks of unjust pain, passed away in his sleep, almost peacefully.
I do not wish to further describe the situation for it is not this grief that we should relive over and over again. We should bring back memories, times of happiness and joy……remember thatha. He created a secure life for his family and taught us all to stay determined, stay strong, to live and to love. SEV has brought light to his achievements and spoken about the way we’ve known him to be on his blog. My sister has also correctly stated, “No one will ever understand unless they’ve seen thatha.
Further, my recollections on happy times with thatha:
I too remember thatha always testing me in math and hence my doing so well in school and college. He would surpise me with formulae or mental math. He always asked for my maths marks or wanted to know when and how my maths paper was. And I aways proudly gave him good results….ofcourse all thanks to him. He never failed to wish me luck for my exams. I will still hear his voice in my head before each future exam I give.
I am going to truly miss seeing his wrinkled, smiling face each morning, his wishing me “good afternoon” with a chuckle on days I wake up late, scolding me for not keeping things in place or not doing things on time, always chanting along with me when I sing, “Vakra thunda…” (prayer to Lord Ganesha), imitating me on movie songs and keenly listening to stories of movies I watch or books I read. I will not forget those shobha (my previous residence) days, just before thatha’s afternoon naps, when he would tell me a couple of short stories or some part of the mahabharata and then let me leave for school. He would give me some long, difficult word from which i had to form as many words as I could. I remember him doing this even when we, kids, were all together and we’d all compete to be the first and get his praises. any story/essay I wrote or sketch/artwork that I made would be shown to thatha first just because his approval or praise or acknowledgement meant so much to me. I always kept a smile on just because he would ask me to. There would be such contentment on his face whenever he saw any of us kids give a huge smile. I also remember old tata building days, when he loved to make us squeal by keeping his dentures partly outside his mouth, forming this scary expression. And he’s always had a special way of calling out to each of us. A voice that’s been deeply imprinted into our minds and hearts.
Memories will keep rushing back of happy times, treasured moments and special occasions. I have found it hard to express them vocally or emotionally. But words have managed to break into my heart and spill them out, creating an unending flow. We are all going to miss you, thatha. Especially in certain tiny little moments unique to each one of us. We have all shared special bonds with you that will never be forgotten. I love you, and in my heart, will always hold on to you. The way you will hold on to all of us with your blessings. From heaven.
In his loving memory…
C. E. Viswanath (15th June 1915 - 12th April 2006)
Warshhhh at 6:13 pm
April 10, 2006
A flickering candle
The last time I saw my grandfather since he was admitted at the hospital, he talked to me. He wasn’t too cheerful, but he was talking and atleast acknowledging the fact that I was there. It’s been 4 days. For the first time, while listening to my father and uncle discuss his grave situation, I felt fear, i was scared. Suddenly I had to face a fact of reality. The candle was flickering. Time was running out. When the doctor let us in, my legs were wobbly, my mind was numb. It was my sweet, hot-tempered thatha losing his grip on life. He was unable to speak. But he could listen. I called out to him and he half-opened his eyes. I felt so….sad. Can’t explain it otherwise. I couldn’t cry, I was just, i guess, stunned. In semi-shock. My grandfather is one of the strongest, determined people I’ve known. At 90, he is as healthy as can be except for lack of oxygen. Just a week ago, when he was more conscious, he would be so particular about the way everything was done and where everything was kept. Like he always was.
I know that the inevitable is around the corner. That the candle will blow out any one of these days. It’s just difficult to see him in his state, so weak and sufferring from so much pain. I can still remember him testing me on math and telliing me stories of the Gods and Kings. And when he gets them wrong, my grandmother would correct him and he would laugh at his forgetfulness. I respect and love him with my heart, and wish he could still have the strength to live upto a 100. All of us, kids, always imagined him being there throughout. I guess in many ways, he will be. In our hearts…
A Smiling Thatha
p.s. not sure if its right to post this but I am. this blog was made for me to express my emotions and after quite sometime, i’m feeling emotion.
Warshhhh at 9:40 pm