A Letter to the Young Man of Seventy
I wake up earlier than usual on a Sunday morning. I see my brother next to me and tiptoe out of bed so as not to wake him up. I don’t see Papa and assume he’s in the bathroom. I come downstairs. I see Mumma in the kitchen and Dadi chanting her morning prayers. I see you shaving at the basin next to the stairs. In the background, I hear the radio tuned to “Vividh Bharti” playing the morning news. I sit on the stairs for a while.
I loiter around the house while you exercise and rush to the door of your room as I hear you open it. You look down at me and smile and return to your room. I patiently wait outside. You come out again holding a handful of dry fruits and hand them to me saying that the “sone chidiya” (the golden bird) gave them to you especially for me. I believe you.
Dearest Dada,
I can still picture you sitting at the door of the house, waiting for me to return from school. Or climbing onto your lap and trying to adjust between the newspaper and you, as you tried to keep the chair stable lest I fall. Or watching Tom and Jerry with you and falling out of our chairs as we laughed. Or using Papa’s stethoscope to listen to your heartbeat and to check if you were okay. Or sitting with you while you taught me handwriting, or when you ran behind me while I learnt to ride a bicycle. Bursting crackers with you on Diwali. And your warm hugs and kisses.
These are just droplets in the ocean of memories that I have of you.
The little things you taught me, like brushing my teeth every night. Tying the knot of a tie. You were my saviour when Mumma scolded or when Bua punished me for eating soil from the flowerpot. (Well, I had my adventures.)
But, most importantly, the lessons that you taught are the rules by which I live my life. Independence, self-worth, standing up for what is right, not giving up, respecting people, and when it comes to honesty, I try to follow your footsteps. You called me determined, when Mumma called me stubborn, and trust me, it makes a difference.
I am amazed at how often I think of you; it’s almost every other day even after all these years. Sometimes, I wonder what if you were still with us, and sometimes I just want to go back in time and relive those moments. Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever let you go, and in my heart, I know I never will.
I want you to know, with someone like you in my life, I have had an amazing childhood. And if you were here today, you would have been proud of the person I have become.
I am not quite sure how to end this letter, or even that I want to. There are so many things I didn’t say, so many I want to and so many I don’t know how to express. All I want to say is I love you and respect you with all my heart.
I can hear the sound of your laugh in my head as you would have laughed if you read this, and I can hear you singing, “Tujhe suraj kahoon ki chanda, Tuhje deep kahoon ya taara. Mera naam karega raushan, Jag mein mera raajdulara”, and I promise, I will never let you down.
Your granddaughter,
Aditi
Originally published at http://aditidankar.blogspot.com, May 2015.
