Making meaning of legacy, loss and love

Processing loss can take time, even years.

This one for me, has taken 25 years. So a long post.

Yesterday, I spoke about the 22nd anniversary since my dad passed. Here's what I want to talk about now. Yesterday was also the 25th anniversary of my grandfather's passing. 14th July has been a bizarrely challenging day, for many years now. Especially when my grandmother was around.

Pitaji (my father used to call him that and so did my brother and I), my grandfather was a simple, caring, very gentle man... and truly a gentleman. I suppose most grand-daughters could say that. Here's why I think so, about my Pitaji.

He was a young adult, still a teenager when he shouldered the responsibility of a large family when his young father, a doctor and newly-elected mayor of Lahore tragically passed away at the age of 40. A doctor who didn't think about his health, in the line of duty towards his patient.

The family was just about coming to terms in the following years, when the country was faced with a likely partition. His aquiline nose and grey eyes, that always fascinated me, had offered an easy disguise as an Afghan when he walked for days during the mayhem of the partition. Relocating to Delhi meant loss of wealth, social status, stability and connection with roots. But there must have been no time to pause, think or feel... There were mouths to be fed, a family to be led. He lived a simple life, and was a duty-bound family person in all his roles. A caregiver, who would often forget himself in the line of duty, a legacy I suppose he inherited from his father.

His life is full of many remarkable stories that have deeply impacted me. Some that are truly special for me. I'm told that I was a toddler when I picked his cigarette butts, act-smoking them behind curtains. On being questioned, I believe that I claimed "I am Pitaji". I am told, that was the last day he smoked.

Years later, he was simple enough to leave his luggage with a co-traveller on a train journey and it was stolen. He had absolutely no regret or sense loss of the new stuff in the luggage. He did often rue about losing the childhood picture of mine that he used to carry in his wallet. It always made me feel that I was special to him.

We were children when we used to go swimming and evidently, it was an activity that gave him immense joy. As a young man, he was an athletic swimmer and enjoyed swimming in the river Beas. His skill was distinctive even in staid water of the swimming pool.

I was in college when I used to ride my dad's scooter, and his joy and pride riding pillion with me was palpable. When he needed a brain surgery and was recovering post op, we spent a lot of time together. It was surreal for me to help him relearn how to walk, the same man who had taught me how to ride my bicycle.

It's difficult to pick my special stories with him. There are so many. One of them is here:

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10160723480228998&id=668278997

As I reflected on our relationship yesterday, the one that tops the charts is the last time I met him before traveling back from our home in Delhi for my first job in Lucknow. My grandmother said that now that I was employed, I should marry. He would be very happy to see my marriage. I was sitting at the edge of his bed when I said "not yet, I don't feel ready". He responded with a nod and a wave of his hand, as he sat hunched on the bed mumbling "jo tera mann kare, mainu manzoor hai. Koi pressure nahi" (whatever you want, is okay with me, no pressure).

Increasingly, I'm grateful for the privilege, the gift of no pressure, no demands that a patriarchal set up could have placed on a young woman.

A day later when my friend's parents came to my office to break the news of his passing, I was facilitating a training program. My manager offered to me that I could leave to be with my family. I remember thinking about it and deciding to finish the program as my professional duty. It was my young self's way of honouring him and his legacy. Today, I'd prioritize acknowledging my loss over my sense of duty. But that's for another story.

Thank you for the legacy, Pitaji. It's the wealth of this prized inheritance that the partition couldn't take away and that I hold most precious.

#remembrance #relationships #loss #love #legacy #anniversary #grandfather #partition #history #family #familyhistory #storytelling #care #caregivers #inspiration #breakingstereotypes #patriarchy