I don’t remember exactly, but there was a phase where I felt paranoid every time I had to interact with my paternal grandfather. I suppose it was sometime before the pandemic when he fell terribly sick and it dawned upon me that he is soon going away from us. Until then it was usual for him to fight through any illness and that’s what I believed he would keep on doing until my marriage at least, but since then, I feared every moment to be his last. The last few times, he never failed to mention that his time is up and that he is soon going away, and I waited for ‘it’ to happen as I could get it done with because around then, it took a heavy toll on me whenever I had to either meet or talk to him. The feeling only heightened during the pandemic, people were dying in heaps and bounds. I was prepared, this guy suffered from the same lungs the virus attacks so dearly. But he surprised me by making it through two rounds of pandemic. He was a strong, strong man and now, when he has truly passed away, I’m actually able to casually say that he died, unlike everyone, and I wonder if it’s because I’ve already mourned him so many times or if it’s because I’m away from home.

I just couldn’t see his health deteriorating and his frailing skin was a stark reminder. With all the treatment and constant nebulising, he really struggled hard to remain alive and thanks to the COVID-19 especially, he had to do something which is so against his nature. For the last couple of years, he was confined to home and I hated that more than anything because he always took immense pleasure in just going around the neighbourhood and interacting with everyone. When I say everyone, I literally mean everyone who passes by and as a kid, I witnessed him do that every time we were on the road and that’s the picture that comes to my mind when I think of him. I’m happy that his confinement has come to an end. 

I must say that he is one of the luckiest men. He found a woman in my grandmother who loved him unconditionally and it’s because of her he wasn’t totally bedridden either. In fact, it’s her efforts that he at least lived two years additionally. The last few years, her purpose in life became to keep him alive and not just alive, but healthy and strong. No matter what, she made it a point to make him eat thrice a day and she would shout at top of her voice and beat herself up in order to make him swallow the food, be it in the solids or liquids way. I don’t know how she did that but she did that day in, day out, twenty four seven and I wonder where she drew the strength from, because she herself is old and fragile. I believe he is happy that she can finally take a chill pill and relax because she wouldn’t let go of him even if he wanted her to let go of him.  

Something we as his kin can never match him in is his wittiness and healthy sarcasm. He was always ready to greet people with a smile and a polite dig at them. He loved his family, the extended-extended family. Not just us, he loved everyone, everything in general. He loved animals, he was a veterinarian. Even though my grandmother advised him against it, he still played around with our pug. Now that I recall I actually don’t remember him holding a grudge or being angry at someone for an extended period of time. He was a simple man who was always welcoming and who was always positive. For the same reason, I always wanted his funeral to be an extremely happy affair and always imagined hosting a memorial for all our friends and family to get together, talk and laugh in the memory of him. What I’m writing here is more or less what I would have said in the same. But the fate is that I’m here in America while his funeral had already taken place in Warangal yesterday. 

Everyone says that I’m his favorite grandchild and I know that I am. I grew up with him. For some reason, I don’t remember going to school with him (I’m not sure if he was the one who dropped me in the mornings) but I remember him picking me up from the school, because on the way back, he always bought me something to eat and while I’d be happily eating that, he’d be chit chatting with someone like I mentioned above. There was this uncle (Raghotham Raju if I’m not wrong) whom we often met and my grandfather really enjoyed his company. Once in 2nd or 3rd standard, I had an homework submission in the afternoon session and to escape the same, I cited stomach pain and left school in the lunch break, and instead of going home directly, I went exactly where my grandfather would be and went home with him because he would shield me from my mother. We were in great sync. 

He was the person who took me to every movie on the release day, and now that I think about it, I’m really not sure if he personally preferred watching movies. My father took me to movies as well and I at least remember him being excited about what we were going to watch or discussing it afterwards but I haven’t really heard my grandfather talk about movies ever (not even at home) nor I ever asked him if he liked a movie we watched. But he always took me to the theaters and sat beside me patiently. I for myself was totally lost on the big screen and I wish I looked at him to see if he was enjoying it. Maybe I’ll commission a painting of me and my grandfather, where I’m watching the screen wide eyed and him looking at me (his expression is up to the artist’s choice). I guess he came to the movies just for me because as I was growing old enough to go to the theater and come back home safely, he’d just give me money. 

Thank you thatha for fuelling my love for cinema. 

You wouldn’t like it much but it is what I’m doing for a living. 

One of his biggest worries in his final days was that I didn’t have a real job. He said he’ll buy me a farm and that we could live there in order to ensure me a constant source of income. He went on and on about how I’d earn my livelihood and I feel disappointed in myself that I wasn’t patient enough to answer his worries (he also had memory loss). He did everything he could for me. He even moved out of Warangal to stay with me in Hyderabad for a few years and that’s a huge thing because the former is a place that means a lot to him. 

And when he loved me so much, I wondered why he chose to die when I’m not there (technically, it’s fate but let’s just attribute it to him because things don’t happen in the universe just like that).  Right off the bat, I thought my grandfather was angry at me for not talking to him enough in the last few months, angry at me for not visiting him regularly and angry at me for not video calling him often. But he is not that person who would be angry and hold a grudge, that too on his favorite grandchild and so, I continued to ponder over why it had to happen this way. 

My karma is so bad that when my cousin video called me from the hospital to make me talk to him in one of his last conscious moments, I was high on pot brownies and half asleep (and this was the very first time I ever tried cannabis). I don’t even remember seeing him properly for one last time, the entire call was a haze. What goes around truly comes back. 

The night he was on the death bed, my cousin had a conversation with me where she told me how angry/cold/frustrated a person I’ve become and how much I’ve distanced myself from the people that love me. One of the reasons I had talked less with my grandfather over the last few months is because my grandmother is the medium to reach him and I’ve stopped talking to her over a tussle in the family of which she is not the perpetrator. I’ve stopped talking to my sister, my brother-in-law, my aunt, my uncle and everyone I could, including my niece and just born nephew. I don’t even know what to tell myself. I’ve done this with full awareness because I thought not talking with an old woman and many others is an expression of dissent and protest. I mean, I’m still conflicted as to how to deal with the situation we have in hand because a certain action was necessary but I realize I could have done a lot better. Until I sat down to write this, I still thought my grandfather was angry with me, but I now feel that he wanted to remind me how true what my cousin said was. 

Look at the timing of it all. He could’ve left while I was chilling with my maternal side cousins in Texas or my friends in Boston, but he waited until I came to visit my cousin (his eldest grandchild) and then left. I have no clue as to how different it’d have been if I’m not with her right now but somehow it all came together to happen this way and the above was a conversation she wanted to have with me for a few months now. Often if I have to tell someone something, I immediately write them a letter because I can’t wait or tell it to a close third person and hope they would communicate it, and I avoid talking to them in person because I’ve already communicated it. Even when I talk in person, I get so emotional easily and mess it up further. She waited to talk to me in person even if it meant I was distancing myself over the last few weeks and this once again tells me how important it is to wait and have conversations in person.  

It’s a tough choice but I’ve decided to not go to India for the 11 day rituals because it’s the wedding of one of the many dearest cousins from my maternal side and I want to be there with him. But yeah, I have a lot to do when I go back and until then, I’ll work towards rebuilding the bridges I burnt within myself. I was a lot like him, a family man. I never used to hesitate to drop by a relative’s place if I’m in their vicinity and there were times when I used to dedicate a day or two solely to go meet my friends and family (and often I used to meet at least 10 different people in a day) and those were the days I was truly happy. More or less, that’s what I’m doing here in America and I’m enjoying every moment of reconnecting with people. I had a lot of patience for people before, but growing up corrupted me and made me come to a conclusion that everyone is selfish and that I’ll wait until they try to contact me but not everyone can make time in their lives to make an effort and go meet people outside their immediate circle for whatever reasons. But I guess I’ll once again start doing it as long as I can. 

Because it’s been a while since I tasted my aunt’s sambar. It’s been a while since I narrated a story to my brother-in-law. It’s been a while since I watched a cricket match with a cousin in Ferozguda. It’s been a while since I met my friends and neighbors in my dearest Bowenpally.  It’s been a while since I dropped by my relatives’ home in Gachibowli. And it’s been a while since I’ve done a lot of things that I usually like to do. I’ll once again restart doing them and live in the light and spirit of my ever-smiling grandfather, Yerra Narasimha Raju. 

Thank you for everything, thatha. You’ll be missed. 

P.S. The below is the video we made in 2021 when we had to shift him from Warangal to Hyderabad in midst of the pandemic.