No more would he be there sitting, awaiting our return from offices, only to tell us that we must eat well, and avoid chowmein. These snake-like things are bad for health, he would say. And Almonds are a necessity. Having said, Yes-Yes, and dedicatedly listening to the regular you-must-eat-well narrative, we used to walk out of his room.
Even when he was in the dilapidated state of health, he never failed to ask us about our offices, if everything was well and what we had during the day.
That day also he asked me if I was fine, and I had ensured him that he also seems fine…though deep down I knew he wasn’t fine. At all.
We were woken up at midnight. And in a flash we all gathered in his room.
Teary eyed, we thanked God that he was alive. Though we all knew, it was a matter of just a few minutes, before he leaves us forever.
And the inevitable happened. Like her, he too, left us.
My nephew, who doesn’t know what death is, thinks that grandfather has an appointment with the doctor, and will be back soon. Looking at my grandfather’s framed picture, he says, “mujhe inki yaad aati hai, kab aayenge ye doctor ke pass se”.
Well, it isn’t the eternal sleep of a person that hurts, but the fact that the person would no more wake up to your calling!