The world that already seems to be normal again is not the same as it used to be; and the feeling of being convinced, of being hapless. I have lived years in disquiet because I was too young to be told that my grandfather passed away (in my folks view) but I feel I rather had to know. I wasn’t there when my grandmother (dadi) died – and yet it had to happen again at the time when I desperately didn’t want it to.
My Nani passed away too. I am not saying I wasn’t ready, but, just one last chat, to tell her now she really looked old; or to lie, things will get better again soon. Having lived with her in my childhood we shared a bond and lots of memories. Her comfy lap that I have slept into thousands of times, breakfasts in winter with butter, honey, tea and her paratha’s and my argument on making my paratha myself. The world’s most relaxing head massage one can ever had was from her hands and none of it has left.
Previously – and today, I have spent minutes (if not hours) looking at the cursor – or the keyboard, lost in scattered thoughts which bring either a dead smile on my lips or is strong enough to ache and make my eyes wet. But I have failed to bring them into words and I know – I will never be.
