Waves
Oh man, I can already feel the tears.
When you hear about grief you always hear ‘it hits you in waves’. Well, I’ve realised that these are not gentle waves, these are some monster waves with undercurrents that can pull you under.
Great way to start, huh? And here you thought it was a post about the beaches and waves in Bali.
It’s been 10 months since I lost Thatha, my maternal grandfather. Lost? As if he can be found again, such a strange use of the word.
I got my full membership to the Club this past year; I just could not bring myself to use the Club. It’s filled with too many memories of Thatha. It’s taken a lot for me to use it regularly. Going to see my grandmother swim in the evenings helps a lot. Whenever I’m there, at any second I expect to hear a loud “doll doll doll” greet me. Thatha was full of life and the club was his second home. If you were sat at the playground, you could her his roaring laughter from the other side of the track. If you were parking your car, you could hear him loudly cursing on the tennis court. Whenever I’m at the gym these days, I half expect him to walk in and start chatting with me. Working out with this mix of sweat and salty tears is a new feeling I’m getting used to (ooo this could be a new workout fad called mindful waves, must look into that).
Thatha was always full of advice. Any decision I took in life, I’d talk it through with him. There were times when he’d look at me surprised and say how brave I was, there were times he’d tell me I was an idiot but he loved me and would support me if that is what I wanted.
My grandparents were such an open-minded couple; it was amazing to see how they reacted to things as we grew up. All my life Thatha would give me sips of alcohol, secretly hoping that I would turn around one day and say I love Black Label. For most of my teenage years and my early 20s I hated it and suddenly in my mid 20s I fell in love with single malt, that was his proudest moment. He was my alcohol supplier and he’d do it with pleasure! When I was 14 we had gone to one of the coolest pubs in Bombay and I got extremely drunk, my sister called and ratted me out to the parents, both the grandparents got yelled at but they were happy! They saw their teenager drunk before her parents had! When I went to Nottingham for my Post Grad, Thatha was the first to visit. He told me that I should not focus only on academics and should enjoy the whole experience and take it all in, that it’s important to learn to balance responsibilities and fun. He ensured that I made the best use of this opportunity, be it helping me find internships or buy a small suitcase to travel locally.
My grandparents moved to Bombay in the early 90s and we would visit almost once a year if not more. When we were there my sister would call him once a day, to just talk, or complain, or ask where we were going for dinner. Thatha would always answer the phone, if you’d hear him say “hmmm hmmm” that meant he was at a meeting, but he would not hang up, he’d still hear us out. My first trip to the West was with my grandparents; we went to London and ate Indian food the whole time. My Y2K new-year was spent in Bombay watching the Titanic (for the 100th time) on TV while my grandparents were out partying. When I wanted to attend Junior College in Bombay and study Philosophy and Psychology, Thatha came with me to every college and we collected all the applications (this dream was quickly quashed by the mother). In my mid 20s when I wanted to find my own place and move out of my parents, he’d go scout for flats. When my sister was struggling with her University exams they’d call and say if you pass your exams there is a vodka bottle at the other end waiting for you. In fact, my mother once announced over the dinner table that I had lost my virginity and we toasted to it as a family and got drunk ( yes, I was mortified but the alcohol helped). That’s us. Crazy, kooky, alcoholics and we’ve lost our patriarch.
I was heading back from Nagarkot in Nepal where I attended a course on leadership (life changing in more than one way). I had just landed in Madras after a long layover and an early morning flight, I turned my phone on to see a message from an aunt that read “Darling are you back? I’m so sorry, I love you” before my brain could process those words my sister’s smiling face flashed on my screen, I answered and heard a sobbing voice on the other end. “Akka, Thatha died”. What? My grandfather had passed away in Bangalore , my grandmum and him were visiting my uncle and my cousins. My dad, mum and sister were at the airport; they were getting on a flight in less than 40 minutes. I had no idea what was happening, I was a mess and I was sobbing. My family was at the same airport in another terminal and I couldn’t get to them, I was just wandering about in a daze, tears streaming down my face, trying to find the luggage belt. Man to this day, when I get off an Indigo flight and head to that luggage belt, ‘I feel those feels’ and the waves hit me hard.
In 2016 my grandmother lost her mother and her husband just 7.5 weeks apart from each other. I’ve been extremely lucky and had not had to deal with the death of a close family member till then. I had known life with the love and support of a great-grandparent for 30 years. 30 years of giggles with her, 30 years of her making me chocolate fudge, 30 years of stories and seeing her eyes light up when she spoke about food. 30 years of hugs and kisses and cuddles and unconditional love, peppered with 5 years of get married before I die, a giggle and a “pollathu” (which loosely translates to naughty) to my varied responses. Her passing hit me hard. But it got quickly overshadowed by Thatha’s passing.
Thatha, man Ramu Thatha was larger than life! When I was a kid and he’d sneeze I would expect the glass to shatter and the ceiling to fall. I’d laugh and close my ears to the assured expletives to follow the sneeze. I’ve travelled a lot and have done the strangest things with my grandparents. I’ve visited chemical factories before I knew how to pronounce factory, been a chief guest at some school event before I turned 5. As a teenager I’ve visited temples with them and tied notes to trees (the premise being whatever you ask for will get granted; Bhairavi asked for a specific boyfriend who never materialized, grandmum asked for Bhairavi to pass all her exams & it materialized many many years later.. hmm maybe there is hope for that boy yet, wonder if he is single?).

Holidays with them were so much fun, car journeys would be spent with Thatha talking about astrology and playing cards. In fact, wherever we went on a holiday with Thatha, we played cards. Thatha took his cards seriously, be it ASS , UNO or Rummy (post retirement he became a seeded national level bridge player). He was the worst teacher and had zero patience. I have many memories of many hours, over many years spent in Kodaikanal.

We would sit in the sun room, light streaming through the glass windows all around us, sipping hot chocolate, dropping cards and hearing Thatha’s sarcastic comments and general impatience. I can still hear my grandmother’s voice interjecting with a “Shut up Raamu” and “You take your time Kanna”.
10 months have gone past. 10 months of things small and big happening without Thatha. 10 months without an email forward from him on ATM safety or the dangers of the sun. 10 months of not hearing my grandmum and him bicker. 10 months of seeing him reduced to a framed picture and thinking it’s not right. 10 months of seeing my grandmother, mum, aunt and uncle, all deal with the loss of their rock. This summer was the first mango season he’s missed. My sister’s wedding will be the first grandchild’s wedding he’ll miss. Thatha met her fiancé and really liked him, he got drunk with him but more importantly he called him and asked him to do things for him (that is the truest sign of acceptance in my family, when you are called and asked to run errands and fix things in the house).
Over the past 10 months,man these waves have been rough. I can see the frequency and intensity of the waves change; the ebb and flow. The worst though is dealing with those tricky undercurrents , they just sweep you away in an instant and you’re left gasping for breath.
