It was close to 1AM when I heard the phone ring in my parentsā room. Given the time difference between London and India, it wasnāt unusual for my mother to receive a call from family at this time of the night. But, something just felt different about this one. For reasons I still canāt quite explain, I immediately sprung out of bed and stood by the door of my room, eavesdropping.
There was a momentās silence followed by loud, hysterical laughter. My spiralling thoughts of dread came to a halt and I breathe a sigh of relief. But, the laughter didnāt stop. In fact, it only picked up in intensity. The same intuition that had dragged me out of bed, rushed me into my parentsā room.Ā
It was a scene Iāll never forget. My father had one ear to a phone and a stricken look across his face. My mother, sighā¦.I instantly realized it wasnāt laughter I had heard. It was her wailing. Their faces carried expressions I had never seen before. Expressions that scared me.Ā
āWhat happened, what happened?!ā, I asked in panic.Ā
āNanaā¦,ā my father said, unable to complete his sentence.Ā
āDied?ā
He nodded.
I was stunned. Nana was 78 and had been completely healthy. Just a couple of weeks ago, he had called me to ask what type of warm-wear he should pack for his trip to Boston for my graduation.Ā
Head held in my hands, I began pacing up and down the room as my father filled me in on the details. My Nani had woken that morning to find Nana strangely still. She tried to shake him a couple of times but there was no sign of movement. She frantically searched for a heartbeat but was unable to find one. The doctor who lived in a flat above them confirmed that he had passed away in his sleep. Nani told us how he had gone to sleep the previous night talking about travel plans to visit a relative in Bangalore. In the months that followed, we found solace in the fact that it was the most peaceful way to go. But at the time, our sorrow was still wrung with seismic shock.Ā
It was the first time I had experienced a death in the family and there are certain moments from those first few days that will always remain ingrained in my memory.Ā I remember my father calling up Tata - my paternal grandfather - to give him the news. The minute Tata picked, my father broke down. You never forget the first time you see your father cry.Ā
I took the phone from him, walked into the living room and solemnly gave Tata the news. Heād later tell us that it was the most shocked heās ever been in his life. āYou have to stay strong nowā he told me. āYou need to be strong and be there for Amma and Appa right nowā.Ā
After hanging up, I remember letting out this silent scream of anguish before walking back into my parentās room. My father was hunched over his laptop booking flight tickets to India and my mother had gathered herself and was calmly talking to Nani on the phone, assuring her that she wasnāt alone and we would all be with her soon.Ā
The next few hours were passed in a daze of frantic packing, bookings and broken sleep. I remember waking from a nap on the flight to find my mother staring blankly at her feet. She didnāt sleep a blink that night and sat completely still like that for hours. At the time, I was struggling to make sense of emotions Iād never felt before but seeing her like that helped let some of my pain seep through.Ā
I remember how she began crying the minute Nana and Naniās house in Lucknow came into view. I remember my uncle stoically standing at the gate of the door to greet us. I remember how Nanaās body had been placed in the center of the living room Iād spent endless winters in. I remember that crushing sense of catharsis as I put my head on Naniās lap and completely broke down. That was the first time I cried after his death. I remember it felt like almost every single member of the family had gathered into that house on the winter morning in January. I remember how chillingly quiet it was.Ā
I noticed Tata beckoning towards me and as I walked over, he put his arm around my shoulder and took me to one corner of the room. I knew immediately what he was going to say. I knew he was going to address this gnawing feeling that I had been trying hard to suppress since the moment we received that call in the middle of the night.
You see, I had been in India just the previous week for my college winter break. Each December, Iād spend a few weeks in Bangalore, staying with Tata and Paati and catching up with my childhood friends. Each time I was in India, Iād take out a couple of days and go visit Nana and Nani in Lucknow. But, the winter break that year, I found myself reluctant to go to Lucknow. I wanted to spend as much time as I could in Bangalore with my friends and squeezing in a trip up North just felt too hectic at the time.Ā
But, I didnāt have the heart to tell Nana this. Each time heād call, Iād prevaricate and tell him I was figuring out which days to make my booking on. After endlessly agonizing over this decision, I finally called him and told him I wouldnāt be coming to Lucknow this time. I sensed the disappointment in his voice but I consoled him (and myself) that I would be seeing him soon in the summer for my graduation. It was the last time I ever spoke to him.Ā
āLook, I know you must be thinking about how you didnāt visit Nana in December. But, you have absolutely no reason to feel any guilt. You didnāt know that this was going to happen and you made a decision that you thought was right at the time. Donāt think anything of it, you shouldnāt feel guilty,ā Tata said quietly in my ear.Ā
I nodded quietly,Ā
āHave I made myself clear?ā
I nodded again quietly.Ā
What he said wasnāt profound but the timing of it made it powerful. Given the vulnerable state I was in at the time, I was able to fully imbibe what he said. If it hadnāt been for Tata, I would have always carried that weight with me. We never spoke of it again and I never even felt the need to do so. There are still occasional pangs of regret but thereās no guilt attached to it anymore. Itās something I will always be grateful to him for.Ā
Today, Tata turns 80. Each time I write something, I always get a detailed email from him with his feedback and thoughts. I have a feeling he will enjoy reading this newsletter in particular.Ā
Nice to hear the loudspeaker after a long pause. Truly a lyrical tribute to wonderful grandfathers.
Shubi, in my humble opinion, this is one of your best write ups ever. The emotions are so raw and palpable and so so moving. You are blessed indeed to have two sets of fabulous grandparents in your life that you are so close to.