Confessions and Celebrations
Papa's birthday today. Another year. When I was younger, my father and my grandfather were my giants. There could be none taller or greater than them. I idolised them both. My two favourite people in the world.
I lost my grandfather, Ajja, a few years ago. His name was the first word I spoke. He was such a good man. Generous and caring. Funny. On countless afternoons I'd run away to my grandparents' home rather than go to my own. He called me Ammu. He'd shave at 4pm every evening. He'd never drink his tea until it was piping, no, boiling hot. He'd fall asleep watching afternoon TV and my grandmother and I would giggle. I'd sneak him sweets. He always smelt of Bryllcream. I'd help him tune his tabla and he'd teach me in return. A wonderful man. And one part of me will always be with him in that dark but breezy house, skipping through rooms to find my Ajja.
I look at my father now. As I grew up, papa changed from a giant to papa. Perhaps it was because I grew taller, perhaps it was because I just grew up. But I looked at him the other day, really looked. And I realized, he's still very much my giant. I didn't grow, I just forgot. But thank God, I won't ever grow up for him.
I look again and I see something else. My Papa is growing into my Ajja. The same face, the same habits. The same irritants and the same things that make him laugh. The same loving, generous man. And I am still Ammu.
This entry was posted
on 7.5.06 at 10:20 AM.
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Really touching.
I cannot sum up how I feel about my folks without shedding a tear or hundred. Esp. my Dad, I could not sleep at night without him till I was 14.
Nice stuff.
Beautiful
Reminded me of my late thata /grandpa.. very true .. we never grow up for them , it is we who change ....
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