A grandson remembers...

"We die with the dying:
See, they depart, and we go with them.
We are born with the dead:
See, they return, and bring us with them."
- T.S.Elliot

This post is about an exemplary man i knew... no... i know....
someone who was/is a constant source of joy/ inspiration /learning...
a person whose presence lit up the lives
of his 14 grandchildren; who absolutely adored him....

Thatha.... as i knew him..he of his impeccable white shirt, veshti and black umbrella....of his
flawless english and imposing tamil, a reservoir of affection and treasure trove of knowledge.

No grand kid could have asked for more...

My earliest memory of thatha is walking to the meenakshi temple on early mornings on summer holidays hand-in-hand...waiting for him to take me to the temple elephant...waiting for him to buy me my favourite toys at the nearby stands...tell me stories about the diety in his typical style....

of him practically knowing every other person in the temple to whom he used to gesture, grin and say... "yennoda delhi perapillai...leave ku vandhurkan....thatha kuda sutthuran" ( my lil grandson from delhi....has come for his vacations...roaming around with his grandfather )

Of plucking flowers from our garden for his daily puja... and his "thank u perapillai (grandson)" which followed...his deep intonations during puja which i'd sit through lying in wait for the prasadam which he'd dole out in generous quantities....

Of him gallantly coming to my rescue every time mom was after my case for one tantrum or the other....
still remember him fixing up everything with....
"he's at his grandfathers residence...he will do as he pleases..."

of spending long hours struggling with an orange tree in the yard, to pluck a precious few; and rush off to make juice with them, and give it to thatha and patti...who'd be as pleased as punch....

of rushing off shouting "thathaaaaa" down the road whenever the familiar figure in an impeccable white shirt, white veshti and black umbrella would come down from his outings....

his flawless tamil ( which i could never even hope to pick up ) and his impeccable english ( which i still try to imitate every living day) ...and his habit of vociferously downing two papers each morning....

'ayya' as he was known in the surrounding area...was whom everyone around seemed to turn for help...be it elderly advice for the next door neighbour, or opening a savings account for the neighbourhood washerwoman...
the milkman to the mla... he knew them all....

Growing up bridges your gaps with the world at large... but it sometimes widens them with a few loved ones...
as i grew up... the phone calls became less frequenter...our conversations shorter...and my visits lesser...

Still..not once did he complain...everytime i'd come to madurai ,usually at odd hours of the night, inspite of my protests thatha wud always be up...and his smiling "vanga vanga perapillai" ( welcome welcome grandson) would make the journey worthwhile...all the time....
I remember sharing each and every achievement of mine with him over the phone and in person....class 12 marks...engg admissions... my first job.... mba admission.... irrespective of the fact that he understood it or not..."heartiest congratulations...excellent" was his response...always...
My biggest supporter..My biggest cheerleader...

Madurai has always been my battery charger... leisurely days with thatha and patti were, and will be the most relaxing ever... my chats with thatha over breakfast and lunch...about college...jobs..life... they simplified things for me...put a lot of things in the proper perspective... and even when we were not dicussing anything they would just be thankful that their 'peran' was with them.

Its almost been a year, since he's been gone. We still feel his need every living day; some more than the others. Even now, there are times of joy, when the dial button on the phone instinctively goes to 'thatha madurai' first, and then the eyes water up.

Thatha...Miss you...