My first memory of him was calling him ‘Babu’ (meaning father), because my teenage uncles around me called him so. It was only later that I started calling him Dadaji. Dadaji, the tough man who really was a softy inside.  He was my favourite person growing up. I remember the impact he had on others, and rightly so, being principle of the Village school. People were scared of him as he would not tolerate loose talk or unjust behaviour.

A medium height, skinny built, with beautiful freckles on his face and his shiny silver hair. He liked wearing his white Nehru cap when going out. But not when he was in Delhi, because if you knew him, he did know how to dress up according to occasion and place.

My favourite memories of him are of my childhood when yours truly was the only grandchild he had! I remember one day when the house was getting painted, I made permanent indentations on the fresh white paint saying ‘I love my Dadaji’, he smiled. It was faint smile outside and I am sure he was beaming with joy inside. That mark stayed for long and so did his smile on seeing that.

Back in the days he liked having tobacco, which he generally put in a small stainless-steel box which he called ‘Surti ka dabba’ and was always tucked away in his pockets. I remember telling him worriedly about his possibility for getting an oral cancel after seeing a TV commercial. He laughed off and said its tasty. I literally snatched that box and tasted Tobacco. Needlessly to say it was bad and I threw his box. Obviously, he got a new one! But from last decade he had been religiously following healthy eating and lifestyle habits.

When people think of him, they think of him as a tough man. Not a muscular sort of person, but still had a lot of charisma and charm. He knew how to have a conversation with anyone and the right timing.

But now, he is gone. Never to return back. The finality of it is difficult to come to terms with but there is a bit of satisfaction in knowing that he lived a long and happy life.

The grief of loosing him is still there. But at least now I will have someone up there who will listen and who I can talk to.

His demise really shook me and gave an insight about life and death. And somehow, I am sure, he has gone to a better place, which is beautiful and serene and full of adventure and fun at the same time. Which is free from bodily aches, pains and aging. I am sure he has united with Dadi and Bua up there, and who knows maybe he is chuckling from up there.

The news also gave me time to really collect all his memories and acknowledge the wonderful teacher and parent he had been to his Mother less children. I can, now understand what lengths he would have gone to build his own house and have all modern amenities and to provide for all his kids in his life time.

I remember the house he had built in his village on his own, which was quite lavish. Ours (If I can say so) was the first and only house for so many years which had a swimming pool, TV and refrigerator. It was the place where Villagers assembled every Sunday morning to watch runs of Ramayana on Telly. Imagine some 100 of villagers trying to squeeze in a big living room. What a sight it used to be!

For some reason, I dreaded this would happen in 2020. I had plans to meet him in April and then in September. But now there are only regrets! About that 1 phone call I could have done, about this corona ridden world which has travel restrictions.

They say, the departed people stay here for next 12 days. And they also say that if you love someone put it out there in the universe so they know. So that’s what I aim to do. Also this is my only release. I want this to go out there in the universe, and for him to know that -He was loved and very much so. Writing this, an unexpected grief suddenly hits me…I have no grandparent anymore.

…. but I am sure, we will meet again. Till then, it’s a good bye!