My Guardian Angel

Relaxing on the Sofa,relishing the taste of my favourite “bun-tikki’s” & enjoying the semifinal of IPL with my father,I gazed at DRDO’s yearly calender,the bottomline of which says,”HOME SWEET HOME”. For the next 3 days ,their was No waking up early in order to grab the last piece of stale brown bread from the mess, No “dynamics of machines” interfering with the daily dynamics of my life & escaping the scorching heat of Patiala. Luxuriate in using high speed internet & in my Dad’s Sony cybershot which always sparked the photographer in me, made me a busy person even on holidays. My mother, who gives me a “‘V’VIP” stature during such visits, was engrossed in preparing the necessary “masala’s” for tomorrow’s South Indian breakfast—(presumed to be a surprise by her but thanks to my father who likes to disclose every such surprises my mom wishes to keep). Everything was going hunky-dory just like any other day just when..…...

It was my maternal uncle’s phone call who broke the news to my father that my grandmother was dead. The demise of my granny came as a shock for every member of my family, grief stricken faces of everyone around made me recall all the time I had spent with my “Nanni ji”. The ecstasy in her eyes when she opened the doors of her House in Delhi evanesce every iota of fatigue of our journey. My Mother had lost her “guardian angel” & seeing her dissolving in tears made it hard to console her. The series of phone calls & the weeping acoustics that followed made me feel nostalgic. Times of me & granny having hours of conversations flashed in my memory. Till date, I treasure the collections of old & post independence coins which she gifted me.”Nanni ji” used to take joy in showing me black & white photographs of Grandpa & satisfied my inquisitiveness by answering every single question I asked her about the former days. Asking about my mom’s childhood days was the fun part, which gave me enough opportunities to blackmail my mother later at home. My Birthday was never complete till a “Janamdin Mubarak” call came from my Grandma. Spending here life at Delhi she was a witness to the series of changes which took place in the city, the nearby super-market shop owners greeted her & people in the locality seeked her advice & respected the generosity of this old but young at heart lady. She never liked asking for help but was always ready to lend a helping hand to others. An embodiment of a devoted wife, an adorable mother & an affectionate grandmother.

True,the next time I visit my “nanni ji’s” house in Delhi the “ecstasy” which welcomed me would be absent.Agreed that Death might be a reality of Life still Love overpowers it & today as I sit down writing this post I sense the presence of my “guardian angel” waiting for yet another conversation to begin…....