Dear Nani,

You often coincided with the school breaking off for summer and whisked us away from the often regimented routine of a school day. 
It is funny how certain reminisces and remembrances came to be associated with your home. Remember the weekly market that stopped reveries, gazes and traffic, and often found us four huddled in a corner, blissfully engrossed in our own bubble, mindless of its vulnerability.
Remember the door bell that often sent us in gaffows as it resonated with a shrill, squeaky note. Remember how you looked at us, observing the stalling of age for neither you or us wanted to grow up or apart, any further. 
Nani, you made us a little less petrified of Nanu. The day you opened the trunk of stories that Nanu brought as a remnant of a partitioned history, made him more accessible and human.
Nani, age is a vicious clock, it speeds faster for some and barely budges when the time is of an urgency, but you have taken us into a world of caresses and care in every stroke you swept our forehead with. 
You have given childhood a meaning and a laugh, and Nani- a little frail today, just tell us another story?