My Grand(God)father.

       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.

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         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 little or just watching him paint, occasionally mixing colours for him(He never liked it). Those were my formative years, spent under the patronage of my dearest tatagaru.

            Had you met my grandfather, you would've instantly taken a liking. Too cheerful and relevant. He was an embodiment of intellect. His expertise in literature and cinema was unparalleled. I am told, that in his hay days, he was into theatre and was acclaimed for his talent on stage. I may go on but I shall concentrate on his favourite arenas-

Cinema and Music- We have spent many afternoons discussing the intricacies of Alfred Hitchcock's direction and how according to him, Bollywood died with Raj Kapoor. His distaste, with notable exceptions, for Indian cinema and awe for the Westerners' ability to deliver classic films has rubbed off on me. He was so fascinated by Hollywood, he took up a smoking habit and was very unapologetic about it. Here are some recommendations he shared with me all the time and I hope, you enjoy them too- 

Psycho                             - Alfred Hitchcock           
The Rope                         -A. Hitchcock

I confess                          - A. Hitchcock                       

The Birds                        - A. Hitchcock                                 
Mackenna's Gold             - J.Thomson                       

Jaws                                 - Steven Speilberg

The Stranger                    - Orson Welles

For A Few Dollars More - Sergio Leone
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly- Sergio Leone

The Gods Must Be Crazy- Jamie Uys

From Russia With Love  - A James Bond

Octopussy                        - A James Bond

Telugu- Mayabazaar (watched 48 times), Patala Bhairavi, Sankarabharanam
Hindi-  Awaara, Guide

            My mother and aunt say, they can never forget his dance moves while listening to Boney M's 'Rasputin' or his revel for ABBA and The Beatles. Perhaps, he's the reason I appreciate the old classics better than the music we get to hear today. The music industry has certainly deteriorated, and cinema much improved. The first lesson I learnt from him- Live life to the fullest and to be experimental.

Literature- This blog would be a flop without this section. He was a true bibliophile.I am yet to meet a person who reads more than he did. He used to recite a sentence or verse ad verbatim from a book/poem he had read decades ago. He would underline whatever he deemed important/interesting in the book and make tiny notes(often quirky) in the margins, a habit which I have adopted. He said this helps remembering the gist and navigate through the book, if required. He kept a book dedicated to new vocabulary and interesting facts he discovered through reading which he bequeathed to his grandchildren.

             As I type this, I remember holding his hand and walking through the aisles of bookshelves in the store, while he asked the owner there, "Any new bestsellers, boy?". Had I known that I'd miss these little adventures with him so profusely, things would have been different. But, that's how it is, isn't it? Intrinsic value is realized after it's long gone. Over the years, he has recommended a ton of books to me and I shall endeavour to share a few, for I believe that following recommendations is the easiest way to come across anything new, seldom getting disappointed. A few-

1) The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes- Sir A.C.Doyle

2) Not a Penny More Not a Penny Less - Jeffrey Archer 

3) The DaVinci Code - Dan Brown

4) The Doomsday Conspiracy, The Naked Face, Memories of Midnight, If Tomorrow Comes - Sidney Sheldon  (He loved all his works)

5)The Autobiography of a Yogi - Paramahansa Yogananda

6)Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen

7) Lady Chatterley's Lover - Sir D.H.Lawrence (It was banned for it's profanity, PDF available)
8)Airport - Arthur Hailey

He periodically sent me newspaper and magazine articles he enjoyed via post.

(His self-deprecation!)

He was a voracious reader of Telugu literature too. It's a pity, I cannot read or write Telugu. He read anything and everything and hence could participate in any discussion with his signature quips. Here's the second lesson I learnt- Be a jack of all trades and master of a few.

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              My grandpa belonged to times ahead of him. He was curious like a kid, adaptable to change, not so religious for the generation he belonged to, enjoyed self-deprecation, a life long Congress supporter and highly revered among the old circles of Vizag. He used to say," I don't want my brain to rot. Give me some activity, whatever. I cannot sit idle". Recently, I was watching Bill Gates's documentary on Netflix, where, when he was asked what his biggest fear in life was, he replied," The day when my brain stops to work". The resemblance reaffirmed the brilliance of my grandfather. Post retirement, he took up painting and merged himself in the world of art. 

              It has been 1416 days since I received a "Hi Vaishoo, Guten Morgen!" text on WhatsApp. It has been excruciatingly long since I last heard from him. It feels only yesterday, that we were cheerfully talking about his experiences in Saudi or him raving about Marilyn Monroe and Sophia Loren. As I pass through his paintings, which adorn my walls, I'm reminded that his last painting will remain unfinished. I will never understand why he was so appreciative of Michelangelo. Nobody will ever call me "My Bombay girl" again. Never will I be able to argue that Harry Potter is not kids' stuff. Whenever I feel my writing is poor, I replay his words he uttered after he read my little eulogy on Alan Rickman. He would have been proud of me after reading this blog and said, "Bloody fellow! You are writing on me now ,ha?"-the only validation I value. No one will be so impressed as he was when he saw a solved Rubik's cube on my table. He will never again say,"It's only 2 cigarettes a day now and it's e-cig". We will never watch a movie together or joke about how imbecilic Americans can be sometimes for electing Trump. As days pass by, it's slowly sinking in me that he will never walk the Earth again. I only hope for a miracle for the postman to start delivering me his letters once again. He was a genius and if I am able to be even an iota of him, I'd consider myself well-lived. 2 days ago, on 16th June, he would have aged a year. I shall strive for what he expected of me and try to keep him alive within me. Post his demise, we have not been able to visit Vizag. But, I know, the next time I do, it's going to be bittersweet because I will go to his favourite bookstore and ask," Uncle, any bestsellers?".

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Chiquitita, you and I know

How the heartaches come and they go and the scars they're leaving

You'll be dancing once again and the pain will end

You will have no time for grieving

Chiquitita, you and I cry

But the sun is still in the sky and shining above you

Let me hear you sing once more like you did before

Sing a new song, Chiquitita

Try once more like you did before

Sing a new song, Chiquitita

Try once more like you did before

Sing a new song, Chiquitita

'Chiquitita' by ABBA. He'd have sung this after reading this blog, drumming his fingers :)

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P.S.-I thank my mother, Aruna, for her inputs, which I couldn't have known. She and I remain his biggest fans. Here's to the wisest man I ever knew. We miss you.