I was born on 16th September 1989 at around 00 hours on a full moon night in a remote village named Jehanabad in Bihar. I was the first born in the soon to be flooded with next generation kids in my mother’s family.
Being the first kid, I was loved and adored by everyone. But all the love in the universe could not equal her love for me. She is the reason-I am what I am. I wish I could feel the things she felt when she first took me in her hands: the happiness of a newborn, the hope for a better future, the dreams of me growing up. Her conviction in me was unparalleled, probably even more than my own mother. She never let any stranger hold me or even stare at me, saying ‘nazar lag jayegi’, and protected me from every evil possible. She was always there for me, unlike me.
As the years went by, she told me stories from faraway lands both told and untold: of wise kings, of evil witches, of haunting ghosts and somehow I would always feature in all of them. Those stories made me only wiser and stronger. Sometimes, I knew she was making them up-but I kept quiet, to humour her. I guess, I didn’t want her to know that I was growing up faster than she had expected and would soon loose me to the big bad world. She was probably right.
Passing time is the cruelest weapon of all times. It simply kills all the sweet memories you had with a person. You grow up and simply forget the things which mattered to you.Marie Von Ebner-Eschenbach rightly said,” In youth we learn, in age we understand”. I learned to love her when I was young, but could only feel the pain when she is no more.
I wanted to talk to her, you know, I really did. But kept on postponing it, just because something important came up, atleast it felt important at that the moment. All I had to do was pick up the phone and call. Ironically, nothings important now. It was as if the entire universe was conspiring against me and didn’t want me to talk to her. Yes, I am just trying to satisfy the guilt in my own twisted way. Nothing matters now: I didn’t talk to her in the end.
Maybe I was always waiting for that perfect moment to tell her how much she meant to me. Whenever she came in front of me, I would forget what I wanted to tell her. Now I know, there’s no such thing as the perfect moment, the minute you tell someone how much you love them, the moment becomes perfect in itself.
Take a minute. Remember all those near and dear ones who once meant a lot to you. Pick up the damn phone. Call them up. Speak. Speak your hearts out. Speak till you are out of words about how much you love them. There’s a lot of people who deserve it, and you know it in your heart. Do it before it’s too late. Believe me when I say this, it’s the only way to tell them.
My Grandma was probably the most beautiful thing that happened to me. May she find peace wherever she is, it’s a better place with the stars. I know they will take good care of her, better than any one of us could have possibly imagined. She left me and her miseries on 26th June 2011 at 2310 hours.
