I kissed Daadi on her forehead as they wheeled her out of the CT Scan lab. She was asleep; and I prayed that she gets a good night’s rest. After all she had had a tough day with multiple tests having been done, which in her weak condition she had endured with much grace.
As we got home, my thoughts wandered to when I was feeding her dinner. It saddened me to see her frail but I was content that she was under good medical care and would now improve. So the next day I was hopeful and did not call to check on her until the evening when I learnt that she had developed a wheeze. This was not a good sign. As soon as I could finish work I reached the hospital. I saw Daadi briefly and then all of us came back home. She was conscious and had given us the permission to go home.
We had juzt about stepped in the house when I got a call asking us to come back to the hospital; pronto. On the way there were three calls following up on our whwreabouts. I stayed calm. It had to be something, yes, but that it was nothing major I was certain. I was sure she would come home. But it was not to be.
Having suffered a massive cardiac arrest she had been put on ventilator. All in a brief span of 45 min; and in another some she was gone! Just like that, she left us. All of a sudden and before any one of us could prepare ourselves she was gone. Without a warning, she left us. All of her 90 years, flew by, all in about 90 minutes. With her ended an entire volume of the family history, suddenly opening a treasure trove of memories.
The first wave that crashed the memory shores was filled with a grandmother’s good night stories - stories of Kanha stealing butter, stories of Narsee Mehta’s unwavering faith in Kanha, stories of Kanha’s unconditional love for Sudama. The list is endless and the lessons remain for life. Her aura was that of Meera, and why not, she was named Radha!
The next splash to hit was filled with a grandmother’s indulgence - her indulging grandchildren and herself with lip smacking chaat for which the vendor was especially called home, indulging grown up grandchildren with take out food while her own children ate home cooked meals, indulging in and savouring sweets at the cost of normal food even till her last days. The mystery of the family foodie gene is now resolved!
The third wave tickled me with memories of a grandmother’s innocent and complete belief in her grandchildren- innocently getting tricked into believing that a healthy grandchild had seriously taken ill just at school time, completely believing that teenage granddaughters were with her in the hospital to help her wound heal while overlooking their constant hospital cafeteria pizza orders, in all earnest innocence accepting a granddaughter’s declaration that any attempt to teach her English was futile. Why the same, much older now, grandchildren cannot as easily convince her own children is a conundrum!
Going through old photographs, seeing her smile and bless, there is a surge of emotion churning within me. They say she is in a better place. It is true, but the granddaughter in me croaks that the better place is here amongst us. They say she was blessed, of course Kanha adores her, but the granddaughter in me already misses her in person blessings. They say all that they can, but the granddaughter in me still sighs because no words can fill the void that has now been created...
