My mother is an ambitious woman, and lucky for her, she found a life partner who would support her in every move she makes. My mother works a job she is passionate about and my father has a business of his own. I am the only child they chose to have and this has so far been one of their best decisions.
While my parents were making our lives cushiony, I was busy living my best days with dada-dadi
My mother was in a transferable job when I was born, and a month after my birth she rejoined work. I was left to the care of my dadaji and dadi maa. My father was at home with me most of the time, if he wasn’t traveling to be with my mother.
But it was my absolutely obsessive, loving and caring grandparents, who took up my responsibility, and I am thankful.
My childhood is a series of routines, but there was never a dull moment
I still have memories of my childhood, when I was probably four or five. My grandparents took me to our house in Shimla for a month during my summer vacation. They had this routine in place for me: I would get up, drink milk which had five munakka (raisin) soaked in it, then pretend to complete my holiday homework followed by some soaking in the sun while having stuffed parantha for breakfast. Mornings were the least interesting part of that vacation. Post lunch my grandparents would take me to the Mall Road for their daily walks and window shopping and I got to play around with the grandchildren of their friends.
I still remember crying everytime it was time to go back home. My parents also visited us for a whole week during that summer vacation and I refused to sleep between the two snoring machines and sneaked out to my dada-dadi’s room at night.
I did not miss my mother or parents, I didn’t feel like I was missing out on anything
My childhood was all about them! I did not feel the absence of my mother. It was also because I got to see her almost twice a month. But I was happier how things were. I would get off from my school bus to look at my dadaji sitting on the bus stop’s bench with his cane, reading the newspaper, waiting for me. I would go home with him, hand in hand, telling him about my day at school.
Dadimaa would have the table laid out for lunch and would make me sit down immediately with both of them, before I went for my afternoon nap.
That one time when mom and dad made our home a ‘family home’
When I was 12, my mother quit her job and she was around more and so was the entire family. It felt like a vacation. I was going out with mom a lot, we shifted to a new house, she helped me make new friends and dad had to take me out to park every Sunday. My grandparents were trying to keep up, because age had caught up with them and their joints were running a losing race. But gave me space to figure things out and get used to the changes.
A year later my mom got an opportunity she couldn’t refuse and again she was on the move doing great things for the people of the world. Back home we all came back to our routine.
I did not know a life without my grandparents
The year I joined college, my dadi fell ill. My mother took a sabbatical to be home with her and me, since I wasn’t able to take it well. She had cancer. It became harder for her to do things that she wouldn’t think twice about. She was still bossing over mom teaching her the recipe for my favourite dishes, so that I didn’t have to eat the basic food our cook made.
Life with grandparents was brilliant! I didn’t feel ignored, they heard me, and even sensed a change in my mood every single time. My parents love me unconditionally, but they somehow always keep looking at their phones when I am talking to them– which was never the case with my grandparents. I always had their undivided attention.
I wanted my dadi to meet my future partner, whoever it would have been. I wanted to learn to drive so that both of us could drive around the market eating at every thela and getting almost zero work done on the list. It was our thing. We would walk to the market, eat chaat, ice cream, momos, and anything that we laid eyes on. She and I were best friends.
She was my best friend and we spent all our time together
I moved into her room and dadaji moved to another room when she fell ill. Both of us watched serials on TV, chatted till late in the night and she told me about her life before marriage and partition. I was always running home from college to be with her. I was in love with her.
She passed away a year and a half after she was diagnosed. I was in my second year.
I moved my attention back to my grandfather who was distraught by her passing away. I tried my best to keep him with me, after losing my best friend, my dadi. But he too left me exactly a year later. Everyone, including doctors told us it was because he had lost the will. He had no illness, but was just heartbroken.
My grandparents are together again, probably missing their sweetest little granddaughter
In a way, they are together again, my grandparents. Everybody is busy with their lives, including me. I seldom go into their room, I speak less about them, and slowly the pain is vanishing. But life is not the same. Home is not the same. It is dull and boring and I am always running out looking for attention and companionship. A few years ago I didn’t even need friends, I just didn’t have time for it because I was busy with my grandparents and our “routine”.
My parents mourn their loss in a different way. I don’t want to burden them with mine. So I speak to dadimaa-dadaji whenever I feel like it and I know I am heard. I was lucky to be brought up by them and credit them for every little achievement in my life.
*As Told To Yashi Marwaha
Image credits: Instagram, Amitabh Bachchan, Alia Bhatt. Pexels & Unsplash (All images are for representational purpose)
