Strands of grey hair sticking out here and there (only when the dyeing fades out-which it generally does…giggles), a talk which many times I don’t understand, clad in crisp white kurta pajama, always on toes and a man who could give an arm and a leg for others. Though ignorant about the biblical scriptures, he unknowingly followed
“Love thy neighbour, as thyself”.
– Mark 12:31
Could you ask for a better neighbour??
Man with a heart of 24 karat gold – I don’t have a superior phrase to value him - heartfelt thanks to the rising price index. Up sharp at 5am in the morning, soon the aroma of freshly steamed rice and dal kidnaps my corridor and it gives me the kick to start my day. Dada is all awake and running little errands even before the doctor couple rise to their humble profession and before the maids come and take over the house. Dada was the lifeline of the entire family and neighbourhood. Right from the kitliwalas to the supermarkets around, all knew him for the person he was – crystal clear in thoughts, words and deeds. Rare indeed!!!
He was someone who loved Cricket & during the most exciting matches his reactions and expressions were worth recording; his group of friends had the best of times-be it cracking jokes, to gossiping, and to drinking. He was a man who loved books and had an eye for theatre. An in-depth knowledge of politics gave him occasions of wide serious deliberations and debates. No matter whoever criticized him or had any kind of war of words, the next time you meet him he would be as normal as he is with zero scraps and remains of grudges and anger. Maybe that was the secret to his clean bill of health. I salute his forgiving nature which was so apparent from the conduct he withheld always, how I wish I could get a little of his goodness to polish up my life!!!! Maybe that’s the reason, they are called rare….
My brother and Dada shared a strange relation; age was not a bar as they endlessly spoke for hours together. A friend and a confidant – whatever you call him to be. His grandchildren and the kids around adored him. His forte was the piping hot kheechu and handwas which we truly gorged on, savoring every bite as it melted in our mouths. But boiling eggs and making maggi for his grandson, readily came to me. I still wonder the reasons……strange you could call. Perhaps he believed in designer foods to the simple ones!!!!
They say that God calls the best ones on earth without giving them much pain and struggle. So, was the life of Dada. He never had to count the number of sunsets left, on his fingers. A new day was always looked upon as a gift from God as he moved effortlessly.
We all know that the days of our life on earth are all numbered and…..
“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing”.
- Ecclesiastes 3:1-22
It’s all fresh in mind the day he met with an accident and his immediate departure. The void will always remain as it is. On a lighter note - Had there been some replacement guarantees offered, but then we are all special and one of our kinds....
To quote incidents and experiences would be ruthless to potray him, just that he was a man of giving and forgiving, is enough for a being who lived so well.