He was 92. I always knew it'd happen someday, but it still hurts. of course this time it's not as shocking as Dad's, but the feeling of loss is there.
I don't have to lie to anyone after a bad exam saying the paper was good, because he won't be there to get tensed. No more excuses to come home late night, no more quarreling over which channel to watch on TV and how long to keep watching. No one will bug me repeatedly again to get the things for him from the market, neither I have to stand in the long ques of the medicine shop again.
My introducer to the english films... he used to tell me the stories of Hamlet and we used to watch the movies on Doordarshan together..me understanding not a single word..i was in pre-nursery.
Teaching me before the entrance exam to Hare school, me getting pissed over his long list of questions and long hour of studies. but he helped me to bag the 9th position out of the 40 students chosen from the 300 examinees.
His endeavour to teach me Sanskrit enable me to manage the subject for 7th and 8th standard with scoring not so bad marks, at least i was better in it than english. but he tried his best to teach me narration. voice change and all that. but the 'fankibaaj' in me always managed to mess up the lessons.He helped me to pass my maths exams till standard eight, after that I had a tutor.
loads of memories. he always used to love me a bit more than his other grandchildren. At times I got a bit more money than the others to buy my Puja dresses. i still use the umbrella he got as a gift and kept that for me. himself using our rejected raincoats in the rains.
24 years of my memories... turned into ashes today early morning. all the rituals were like deja vu. only this time my uncle in my place.
the mourning period will be over in 14 days, but the pain will remain. His empty bed, the empty room, his voice no more calling our names...
Another name has added in the list of my deceased ancestors for 'tarpan' in the mahalaya.