Of love and regrets

I happened to watch a video of my late grandfather's funeral that took place three years ago, thanks to my brother who was fiddling with the handycam first thing in the morning. Wow, time surely flies. More than three years have passed already and memories are all that remain. 

When everyone was busy helping, I was crying my heart out miles away. I will always carry this regret in my heart, of not having been there to walk the last stretch with Ajo. He was a man of a few words during the day time, walking around the village house inspecting every little detail that may have been disrupted by animals or the fidgety neighbourhood children in the hours since his last check. Once night time fell and he had his usual dose of chang, he was a different man altogether. He would tell us stories about how he gambled his life away, how he mistreated Anyo (I never got the chance to meet her, another regret I carry around), how he would walk barefoot from the village to Kalimpong just to sell eggs, or how the past days were so much simpler and happier.

I always got this feeling that Ajo thought we were rotten spoiled since we didn't grow up in the village. But my parents ensured that we were in touch with our roots because every winter vacation we had to spend a month each in our maternal and paternal villages, before writing an essay on our winter experience. The winner got a Cadbury chocolate from dad. Back then we were pretty jealous of our classmates who rushed down to the metros, or even Siliguri for that matter once the holidays were declared. Now it is a different story. I am extremely glad that I was raised the way I was by my parents. It was a privilege and an honour to have experienced all that and more. We have had some amazing times with our cousins in both North and South Sikkim. I remember throwing stones up the trees and waiting for the fruits to fall down. We would be wearing pants underneath the skirts. The idea was to collect the fruits in our skirts, wrap them and run for our life before the guard caught us. Another episode I recall is the masked dance festival. It was such an exciting time for us. My sister was the darling of the lot and had quite a number of monks (yes, monks!) drooling over her. Those were all such fun times. 

Ajo awaiting his city guests

Tomorrow I'll be driving down with my parents to the village for the day. The emptiness that engulfs the silence now is deafening. No more Ajo sitting in the porch, waiting for his son and grandchildren to walk down the narrow shortcut to the house. Even though he left us long back, I carry a bagful of stories to be shared with my children when the time comes. To have grandparents is such a blessing. I am glad we we had this experience before it was too late to do so.