I am the eldest grandchild in my family. And being the eldest, I was pampered a great deal by my grandparents. My aama (grandma) and baa (grandpa) always shielded me from every possible dangers including thrashings from maa. I have pleasant memories of evening story sessions as grandpa took me to bed. Aama would oil my hair and tie pony tails which resembled coconut trees that I used to draw.
Sundays meant elaborate sessions with my grandparents. Baa would trim my nails, aama would fondle me to sleep. Their bed room was literally my playing room, my story book reading room, my painting room and what not. With time, as I grew, I got a room of my own but their room was still my favourite one. When I left for hostel, I missed them more than I missed my parents.
It was in the year 2014, I had come home after my exams when aama received a pressure stroke . She couldn't make it. I had spent a month as he lay sick on her bed. All of a sudden, there was a role reversal. I could comb her hair, powder her freckles, clean her face. There wasn't a single minute when I left her. I would talk to her, hum her to sleep. It was a month long struggle. Baa would read her verses from the Geeta, I could see him choke. He was kind of preparing aama for her journey. Aama, finally left us and with her she took away my fondness for their bedroom, it no more holds meaning without her.
Fast-forward today, my grandpa is lying in this hospital room. As I type this post, I am stealing glances to see if he is okay. He will be okay in some days but the fact that he has aged is something which I fail to digest. I have been trying to tell him that I am fine but he wakes up now and then and sighs that I had to lose sleep. I can't help but smile at his love for his grandchild. I can't read stories to him but can stay by him as he sleeps peacefully. He keeps asking, "When will we go home?"
'Soon', I whisper.
Change is inevitable but it must be joyful till you hold the life within you.
ReplyDeleteIt is indeed:)
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