A Remorse Ridden Farewell
A deep sense of déjà vu set in the moment my father walked in with the news of my maternal grandfather’s demise. My sister’s bewildered eyes were scanning my face trying to decipher the near blank look. On the same day morning after a disturbed sleep, I told my sister about a strange dream I had.
To backtrack a bit…. Being the first grandchild of the family, I was pampered a lot by my grandparents, especially my grandfather. Although we stayed in Mysore (a small city in southern India), our fortnightly trips to Ajja’s (Grandpa) home in Bangalore were a welcome treat. But all this came to a stop when my father announced that we would soon move to Mumbai.
The thought of not seeing my grandpa as often as I wished was an unbearable reality, that I was forced to accept.
The day of our departure arrived sooner than I wished. Standing in front of the airport, my Grandpa, a resilient man sounded forlorn when he said, “I guess I shall not be alive when you come to Bangalore next.” I chided him for making such absurd comments and thereby completely forgot about this parting shot after reaching Mumbai.
The next year was a whirlwind of activities more of the academic kind since I had to face my board exams in a comparatively new setup. Despite my hectic schedule, I always made it a point to keep in touch with my grandpa through letters (long-distance phone calls were a luxury back then). The urge to see him never waned as time rolled by.
One night I had a recurring dream of my grandpa holding my hands and pleading me to come back to Bangalore to catch a last glimpse of him. I got up wiping my moist brows and hoped that this dream wouldn't turn into reality. Strangely, a few hours later, my worst fears came true when my dad revealed that my grandpa had passed away.
Distance did make the heart grow very fonder in my grandpa’s case. His constant urge to see me (as revealed in his letters) did nothing much to my EQ except promise him in each letter that the impending summer holidays after my final exams would be the best time to visit him.
His parting shot on the day of our departure kept ringing in my ears. Why would a person who was quite hale and hearty make such a dramatic statement? Did he have an early premonition about his death? Or was the thought of not seeing his grandchild as often as before made him say this?
The dream, however, according to me was a way of conveying an unfulfilled wish of a dying man. A wish that was not too far-fetched in any terms but one that I failed to fulfill due to misplaced priorities.
A few days after his death, my grandmother revealed to us that the last utterance of my grandpa just a few minutes before his demise was his regret about not seeing his daughter and grandchildren.
