Everyday musings

       It has been 1416 days. 1416 days since he last spoke to me. 1416 days since the world slipped from under my feet. 1416 days since I started fearing death. . . . . . .          I consider myself extremely fortunate in life. Mostly, because I have had the good fortune to spend 17 yrs with my grandfather (nana, or tatagaru--as I used to call him). He shall always remain my most favourite and influential person in my life, and most of my tastes and personality has been shaped by his excellent pedagogy.        Growing up, my summers were spent in Vizag, at my grandparents' place. Happy days. I reminisce my running around the house, trying to climb the coconut trees whilst my grandmother was terrified of me breaking a limb or two. I was assigned the job of watering the garden which, I feel, sowed my love for greenery.The nights were spent poring over my grandfather's gigantic National Geographic/Reader's Digest collection-- of which I understood very litt