33 years back, a 50 something man held his 5 day old
grand-child in his hand and said to him “You’re my son. I promise to give you a
life without worries. I will never let any of life’s problems ever get to you
because they’ll need to go through me first”. That man was my grandfather. That
5 day old kid was me.
And for 33 years, he’s kept that promise.
Through life, I’ve seen my fair share of shit. And have got
into some shit that has been embarrassing too. Through all of that, he’s stood
behind me. Like my rock. My support system. Like my father.
He pampered me. Bought me the latest He-Man, GI Joe toys;
enough to fill up half a room. Even though, as I realized along the way, we
weren’t the richest family on the block. But he spent beyond his means to
ensure I didn’t feel like I had to see a life of financial compromise. He
bought me a cycle every single year because mine never really lasted more than
one. He doesn’t know it but he paid for my first drink, my first night to a
discotheque. He got me my first mobile, my first laptop, my first desktop,
really “my first anything I wanted”
He never refused any of my funny, illogical quirks. I wanted
to learn cricket coaching in MET, even though I sucked. He took me there at 6
am every morning. I wanted to open a comic books library at the age of 10. He
gave a small corner in the house to pile my books up. And even dough to buy
some shitty books.
He got me out of trouble. By doing things that would hurt
his pride. And he is an incredibly proud man. But for me, he travelled all the
way from Bandra to Vashi to bail me and my friends out of a broken windfield
situation. He came to help me out when I banged my bike accidentally into a
corporator’s car.
He’s the first guy I called from the hospital when I went
there on my own to get a heart check up done.
He supported me unconditionally. Even when he couldn’t see
reason in my decisions. My rather outrageous decision to go to the US for a
Master’s degree. And then the even more outrageous decision to come back. My
decision to get married. My decision to move away. My decision to move back. My
decision to move to Singapore.
I know he doesn’t like me going away. Nothing would make him
happier if I stayed close by. But my selfish personal endeavors always found a “supporting
smile” from him.
He stood by me when my dad passed away. If anything, his
resolve only grew to not let me wither away. He stood by me when Mola went
through her surgery. In his own little ways, he was around. Always.
He’s been living on a pension for 25 years now. But I’ve
never left his presence without him asking “do you need anything”?
He doesn’t know it. Because I never told him. But I am the
man I am today because of him.
He told me not to smoke, not to drink. It’s my weakness that
I couldn’t follow up on the 2nd.
He told me not to gamble – on even the smallest of things
like marbles and cards. I don’t. To this day.
He taught me not to be disrespectful of people. That it’s
easier to live if you get angry lesser. To
trust people unless proven otherwise. To
work harder than the other guy. To not
chase money.
I follow some of that. And it’s all because of him.
Today my hero is struggling to keep up with his health. That
little bitch called life is making him battle hard. But he’ll come through. I
just know.
Mothe Daddy: I’ll always be your son.
And you. My grandfather. My father. My hero.
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