Sunshine and Rain

The conversations. 

on September 20, 2015

Its a rainy night tonight. Me and grandma are sitting in our drawing room. She’s on the sofa and I’m sitting opposite her, on the table. 

She’s got a little stomachache. So I’m sitting around. For comfort. And security.  

She needs constant reassurance that she will be okay.  

Thats all they need by the way. A lil bit of love and security.  

Old age has made them scared. Scared for their health. Scared of loneliness. Scared of dependency. So insecure.  

Earlier, when we were young, our parents had to continuously tell us. To spend time with grandparents. Over and over again. We obliged, always did. But it was a duty.  

We were children. And our grandparents have always been so old, we never really had a connection. 

Like they say, everything has its own time. 

Ive been spending a lot more time with my dadi now. Not because she is old, or because its my duty.  

Because I want to. 

Because I want to hold her hand and tell her that Im here. She looks at me with longing eyes every time she sees me rushing about the house.  

How do I not leave everything and come sit by her side?

So anyway. We spend a lot of time talking. 

By which I mean- she talks. I listen.  

She tells me stories of her parents, of her marriage. Her medical histories and operations. Her children. And us too. Me and my brother. 

She is staring off into the distance, looking at the rain. And i observe her closely. Her soft clothes. Her barely there white hair. The soft skin. I remember her old photographs, where she is a picture of vitality. A glowing face and a strong body. When she stood upright and had fat under skin. 

Mind you- she still has a glowing face.

And the wrinkles on her body are like stories etched onto her skin. 90 years worth of stories.

Her eyes have a distant look, like they have seen a million things and remember each, vividly. 

We sit and we talk. She talks. I listen. 

I see how excited she is by just having someone listen to her.  

The chatter continues. She talks about food and pyjamas and the weather and anything thats possible. 
So after our little chat is over, She touches my cheek and I kiss her goodnight. That Ill see her the next day. 

She does make it a point to come and sit outside her room in the morning just to see me off to work everyday.

One day, I was told that she was waiting anxiously for my return. And when I ask her the reason for her anxiety, she says “I got up late today, I couldnt see you in the morning.”

 I dont think Im ever forgetting that day.

I do realise how fragile she is, and how precious life is. Yet Im comforted by the fact that she is here, now. And will continue to be so for the years to come.  

She’s old. And with age, come a thousand worries and ailments. I see my parents care for our grandparents day and night. Their selflessness amazes me. I wish to grow up and be like them.  

Our lives revolve around our grandparents routines and health, which believe me, is Okay.  

I wouldn’t trade this for another life. Ever. 


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