Aug 30
Like the Ocean
Dear Dada,
Dada. Grandpa. 爷爷 (yé yé). Pitamaha. Grand-père. Abuelo.
If I could go back in time, I would go back to Sardar Patel colony and eat chikki with dada, all while laughing hilariously for no reason. I have never laughed as much in my life as I did that day, with dada.
Imagine this in slow motion. Sitting on the table, I say to dada, “aa chikki to khataj jao, khataj jao, khataj-jao.” Dada looks at me. I look at dada. We burst out laughing, and we continue laughing...we are still laughing. And then, dada gets out of the house from the front door and I do the same from the back door. We meet halfway in the car parking, and dada looks at me. I look at dada. We burst out laughing, and we continue laughing…
The dining table is a special place for us. When I would not finish lunch even after an eternity and everyone would leave, dada would still sit with me and tell his kisse, short anecdotes from his childhood and youth. This is my favourite kissa: Once dada was taking out an old shirt from the cupboard that hadn’t been opened since ages. From a lonely corner, he pulled it out, and what?! A big bold terrifying scorpion. It bit him, but he stood there, brave. Moments later, when the doctor gave him a giant tikdi (dada and my inside joke here), he swallowed it without water! How dada—
Dada, you were brave then and now. But, dada’s mind has more twists than a bag of pretzels. If you think you have figured out dada, you probably still haven’t. He is fluidly intelligent and can beat anyone at math (beware!). Dada is like the ocean—serene, calm, and with a huge heart, but when the storm comes, you can’t stop him.
Dada. Grandpa. 爷爷 (yé yé). Pitamaha. Grand-père. Abuelo. I still need to know so much about you, and for that, I have an idea—let’s make a trip to Sarol soon.
With love,
Tinu