A Prized Treasure

Born and brought up in Gujarat, though a Maharashtrian by birth, he was a gujju at heart! From playing excellent garba to raving on fafda and jalebis, I am sure he was truly a Gujarati chokro of his time. ‘Anku dii’ is how he addressed me. The unconditional affection he had towards me was quite evident through his eyes that had nothing but pride for his (favourite) grandchild. Be it anything I attempted to do, there was nothing but encouragement from him. Academics, fine arts or culinary arts, he was one proud grandfather who was never tired of boasting about me- at family functions or in his friends’ circle. Being a brat that I am, I loved all the attention and I carried it with a swag!

As a 7th grader, I was, if not outstanding, a commendable artist. Regularly creating my own drawings and painting them was an extracurricular activity that I enjoyed wholeheartedly. Every visitor, stranger or a guest, would be forced to go through my artwork by Ajoba. I had a small section in the living room where I would pile up all my work, such that, it was accessible for him to put up a quick art show. All the competitions that I won, the issues of the newspaper that published either my name or my artwork, were carefully laminated and filed by him. Immense affection, and nothing else!

Foodie that he was, would often steal chips from the kitchen, fill up his shirt pockets and walk around with silent feet, as he munched on his treats. Due to chronic asthma and lung congestion, he was advised to stay away from greasy and cold foods. No prizes for guessing that he loved ice creams, fried foods and everything with dairy. His favourite was a ‘warm icecream’. Something he came up with so as to enjoy ice cream, but by melting it! Every time he sensed me and Aji cooking something up in the kitchen, he would run a taste test for us. Like always, very much enthusiastic about eating freshly fried batata vada, samosa, farsan, gathiya, dalmooth, fafda and bhajiya. Very vaguely I remember this incident when I demanded a kulfi from a street-side vendor. Right away, he and my grandmother were seen clapping, yelling, and whistling to catch the kulfiwala's attention. Other incidents include buying me chips, vada-pav, ice creams and racing home before it melted.

A very handsome, funny, caring, hard-working, zealous man and a fighter, who knowingly or unknowingly battled cancer until his last breath. A prankish grandfather to 6 grandkids, entertained us through our growing years. Chasing away pigeons and stitching up burned bedding are some of the funniest memories of his that I carry for life. One thing that I truly admire of his, as a 28-year-old is, do not think too much of the outcome, just do it! Consequences will take care of themselves. I am sure he was more of a carefree grandfather than a father. Even then, he was far from being a compelling and dictating person. Left behind fond memories that continue to blossom in our hearts like a lifetime of spring. Happy Birthday!