Dear Ajja,
I could barely see the “PUSH” label on the door knob before
me. My thoughts had raced back to the
last time I had been there. It was with
you. Your new watch strap was loose and
it was annoying you. Time was important.
It hardly passed now. You looked
at your watch every now and then to see how much had elapsed. You were happy with your new watch. But it did not sit firmly on your wrist and
kept slipping. So we had gone to the
showroom to fix it. You were uncertain
it could be fixed. “Do they do
that? Very good!” We had gone arm in
arm. You didn’t like using the walking
stick, a sign of weakness and dependency which you hated.
We gave your watch at the counter and the shopkeeper checked
your wrist and measured the links that need to be cut off from the strap. And to your surprise your watch was returned
in no time fitting you perfectly. You
shook hands with the guy, “It fits perfectly now. So nice of you to do it! Thank you very much. It was very loose. It is perfect now. Thank you”, you said again
as we walked out. You were so
excited. You were thanking me now. “If it weren’t for you I had to continue
wearing the loose watch. It is proper
now. I didn’t think they would fix
it. But he did it for us. God’s grace! Thank you. You will help me out if there is any more
trouble with this? I know you will! Thank you.” You said it repeatedly all
along the way back home and again at home that evening every time you beamingly
looked at your newly fixed watch.
That was the state of affairs. You were totally a child. Everything surprised you like it was the
first time you ever saw it. Small things
made you extremely happy. “What is this?
I never saw it before?”, “That was so good, I had it for the first time!”, you
had said when you ate ice cream. You
looked at everything with a childish curiosity and small things fascinated you
and made you joyful.
It has been a year since you left us. How time flies! How
life goes on in spite of what happens!
But the void remains. Your absence is strongly felt. It feels so strange that you, who had been
such an important part of our lives, are not among us.
My memories go back to when you took me out as a kid. Your single finger I could grip fully with my
small hand as you walked me out. You picked
us up from school every evening by Luna.
How you always wanted everyone to be together. You would call me to come over as soon as my
exams got over until the day the school reopened. You didn’t want me to waste even a single day
of my vacation being away from you. You
made us read the Vishnu sahasranaam and chant Ram naam. Your habit of chanting ram naam never
stopped. Your fingers moved subconsciously over the beads of the rosary as you
chanted “Sri Ram jaya Ram jaya jaya Ram” involuntarily till your last
breath. You wanted us to do things on
time even if it was the vacation. “Finish
all your work first then you can be as you like freely for the rest of the day”. You always wanted discipline.
How it all changed before we knew it. How you suddenly got old after you had your
first attack of stroke. Going out on
your own got dangerous. You had repeated
accidents but you insisted going anyway. How you very getting hurt repeatedly but you
were still positive and optimistic that what has to happen will happen and
nothing can stop it. We were so scared
for you. We forced you to stay
home. How restless you got to be at
home, being the active person that you were.
How you were forgetting things. But you never worried. You never told us about your pains. You bore it all with a smile. You tried to find something to do even while
at home. It was so hard to pass the
time.
The day you fell and hurt your back, was the blow. You couldn’t walk again. You were forced to bed. Days got difficult for you and us too. It was hard to see you suffer, to see you
struggle through routine works. How it embarrassed
you to depend and make someone else do your work. You thanked profusely for every little errand
done for you. You were apologetic that
others had to do your work and you explained your situation which we all
understood. “I am sorry ma, I don’t mean to trouble you. I am old you see, it
is beyond my control”, you explained with that desperate helpless look in your
eyes. You were unhappy, but you always
smiled. You said it is God’s grace. You greeted every one with folded hands even
when you did not recognize any one. It
was heart wrenching to see you small and lean in your bed. I had never known you to be weak and ill. You had always seemed this strong head of the
family, invincible! You had a childish
endearing smile. The twinkle in your
eyes shined so bright that it warmed many a hearts. You thanked the nurses and doctors every time
they came to check you. You were
grateful that they took such good care of you and were trying to treat you.
We had hoped to bring you home, to pamper you, to love you
more. We knew it was coming. We knew it was inevitable. Did you know it too? Did you know the time
had come? Nothing could prepare us when you left us. The person whom I admired, respected and
loved the most was suddenly gone. A
strange emptiness and longing tugs at my heart even today every time I think of
you. Yes, we moved on. But I still hold on to your memories tightly
lest I should lose them too. The way you
made me feel. The happiness you gave
me. How childlike you had become! Your positive spirit throughout your life,
your principles, unwavering disciplined life set an example to live by. Several people told of your good deeds and
praised you. They told us how you had
helped so many people we knew nothing about.
Even in death you were this awe inspiring person. “I lost my gem”, grandma said when you were
gone.
Even now when I cook I remember how you appreciated and
thanked me for every meal, every cup of coffee.
How you cherished and loved food! “It is first class! Very good! Thank
you.”, you always said. You have no idea
how much I loved cooking for you and how motivating you have always been. How I wish I could do it again for you. I miss how you called me “Gundamma” in a
sing-song voice. I wish I could hear it
again. I want you to tell me “very good”.
If only I could hear it again. Anything! You had first taught me the joy of letter
writing as a kid. I am writing to you
again now. Wherever you are, I wish you
could see this. I wish I could see
you. I wish I could tell you how much I
miss you. May be I never told you how
much I love you! If only I could tell
you now.
Your only,
Gundamma
