Monday, October 01, 2007

Why

Why.

It is my favorite word and favorite question.
Today, I'm applying it to my currently favorite theory, the "theory of death"
Weird one, this "theory of death" is. It says, "All who are born must one day die; the means of which are variable."

My grandfather died when he was just 78. Can you imagine?
I hadn't. And suddenly, before I knew it, he was gone. All I got was a phone call. "Tell Papa to come home immediately…"

And I'm still wondering… "Why?"

I still remember the walks we used to take to the see to sea. He was fascinated by it. We used to go and sit by the sea side, and he used to tell me stories about pre-independence days, about his struggle in life, about how he managed a family with only 10 rupees in his pocket, about how he built that quaint blue house, the same one that I spent all my summer vacations at, brick by brick.
I still remember his toothless grin (without his dentures) and his toothy laugh (with his dentures).
I still remember the way he used to tease me and call me a fat monkey… fat for obvious reasons and monkey for the antics and nonstop jabbering that I used to do.
I still remember the pains he used to take to get his grandchildren to speak their mother tongue, sindhi.
I still remember what he liked to eat and what he didn't.
I still remember the last time I saw him.

You know, you never know that last time you see somebody, that it is the last time you are seeing them. I didn't either. All I knew was that something was holding me back that day. I never want to leave that house once I go there, but that day I really didn't want to leave. Didn't realize then that it was my internal sixth sense going off, trying to tell me that "this is the last time you'll see him."

And then I wonder. Why. Why do I still remember? Why can I still hear his voice sometimes? Why does some random bald head on the road look like his very adorable bald head? Why did he die? Why does it still, after six years, hurt so much? Why.

And as the usual case is with my "why's", I get no answers. He stares at me, smiling, from his photograph hung on the wall, but says nothing.

I just want to tell him that I love him and really miss him. Anyone who can communicate to spirits in the next-world please do this one favor for me. Please.

Until next time…

2 comments:

Mulling Over My Thoughts said...

you know i hate you for this...
both my grandparents are 80+ right now and are really frail. i met them just a few months ago and i so want to meet them again now...
why do grandparents always take their grandchildren out for walks and then tell them the most fabulous stories from their past?
it fascinates me no end to imagine what life must have been for them in their heyday...
my grandpa (dadaji) was in the air-force and he has told me some really fabulous stories of war and peace, how one would be incomplete without the other, why violence and force are necessary, why it is necessary to excercise restraint, so many whys that he answered and so many whys that he did not...
my grandma (naani) is a doctor. (yes a woman doctor, in those days!!!) can you imagine what she must have faced when she wanted to educate herself so much? can you imagine the tales of grit and determination i have heard from her? my nanaji was the collector of patna... all those stories and i havent yet heard a half of their lives... so much more that i still wanna hear...
but then, i know i cant. so i save their stories and weave them into mine so one day i shall tell my grandkids those fabulous tales on long walks along the beach. knowing my life till now, i wonder how much my grandkids will hear... i hope i have a long life!!!
remember, you too will have some grandkids one day... make sure you have plenty of stories to tell them!!!

cute n confused said...

u know..i hate u for this.
i want another walk. i want another story. i want another chance.
u have all these and much more
and i hate u for tht.
:(
why do i not have thm?
why why why!!!!?????