Tag Archives: grand children

THE LAST LETTER

As we stand today, miles apart

I am beginning to miss your presence

Now, I realise, an important fragment of my life has been lost

Lost to the universe

I never had thought of you in such a manner, Aiee

It had never occurred to me that people depart

Such intensity of sadness, a void, has been created back here

I wish you could come back

Everything I do,  reminds me of you

The way you walked. The way you talked. The way you ate. The way you behaved funny.

The way you loved us more than we did.

My eyes, fighting back the tears,

While I see our selfies.

Were we destined to stay for such a short period together?

This cruel decision of fate has left me shattered

I have lost my faith

There are things which only grand moms can teach their grand kids

I could hardly learn any.

I wish I could see you laugh again

I wish to have spent more time with you

I wish to have been cuddled by you harder

Because the world would have been a better place for everyone;

Its true if everyone, everywhere had an aiee as nice as you.

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I still can’t believe that you have departed from the earth.

I couldn’t believe my ears the moment mummy broke out the news to us. I had my design paper the next day and was tensed about it as such. But when I saw her crying uncontrollably, bursting out speeches in between of her tearful episode, I felt terrible. I can never see my mum cry. Nor she could see her mum lying still.

I had never witnessed any deaths in the family before. You passed away first. I wish you hadn’t done this to me. I am a person who always took pride in saying that “Thank God I have my both sets of grandparents for me!” Not anymore.

You left me, just like everyone else does, but this time, you have moved on forever 😥

But you do remember the moments we have shared, don’t you?

You must have felt amazing when you’d have got the news about the arrival of your daughter’s daughter to this world; and would have held me in your arms for the first time. I hope that I would not have done anything stupid on you at that moment and if I had done, then I am sorry. Too late to beg apology but yes, I am sorry.

I take pride in saying that my aiee makes the best tomato chutney and fish curry. I would insist to eat the freshly caught fish from your backyard pond, and would set off with Aja to catch some small ones. When you fed me with your soft hands, the food became ambrosia. Summers were always fun with you. Our afternoon sessions of watching Odia movies were the best. When you used to come home, we used to savour on dried mango pieces with sugar. Our favourite meal was a yummy snack of chicken roll.  And you got all excited when you were left alone in the house. You got the freedom to eat anything sweet available in the kitchen; despite a hundred warnings from every one of us; despite of the knowledge that you had diabetes.

Ludo, ludo and ludo. More ludo, but not less. You must have been the undisputed champion of the indoor game of this century. You had a way of pulling the game in your favour every time. You always got the number you wanted on your die and if not, then you still would manage to put your token in the block you wanted. Awesome playing strategies. Our much-loved past time.

It seems that everyone except me has borrowed your genes for obsession with style. Nail and feet paint, powders, bangles, gorgeous saris…… all used to be your prized possessions. It is no wonder that you were so beautiful. A clear hearted soul, that’s what you were, Aiee.

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Paan used to be your greatest companion. When the shopkeepers used to ask me about the brands of various ingredients used in your paan while you sent me to buy some, confusion clearly showed up on my face. You always kept it within you, literally. Even though chewing paan was just a daily routine, It won’t be an exaggeration to say that it was your soul mate.

We used to sit on your tummy and play. Had there been a tummy contest, yours surely would have won a position for its absolute roundness, fairness, smoothness and size. The coinage of the term moti bou for you still holds relevant.

Nobody could match the humorous way in which you spewed angry words on us. It was a delight to trouble you and listen to all those Odia slangs. It never hurt. While I am writing this, your dialogue “tu kebe ama gharu jibu, tu kaha ghara bhangibu lo” is echoing in my mind.

Aiee, I loved to talk to you. During these informal talks I discovered a different person inside you, completely different from the funny and casual lady altogether: a small girl, who had lost both her parents when she was only four, and had since been raised by her step mother. You never showed pain in your eyes, nor grief in your words, Aiee, you were so strong. My mummy has derived all her strengths from you. You have never complained against your step mom. You had merely said “How harshly she might have treated us, she still loved us and gave us food. I am today alive only because of her.” No person can ever say this kind of statement. It takes huge courage and even a bigger heart to say so. You were hardworking and have raised five children who have grown up to be counted in the percentage of that few good people the world currently holds now. Thank you for taking care of all of us. We hope to inherit your potentials and make you proud.

One day we shall meet at the other side of the horizon. May your soul always be our guide and support us through the tough times.

Love,

Nickie and Nishi

 

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