Portrait of a grandfather

Sanjeev Suri

SUBLIME, instinctive, stubborn, vocal, silent: this is how I recall my grandfather. His majestic presence had made our home a fortress of strength, where we were taught lessons in humility, discipline and respect for our elders. He was the reigning deity of our home who never liked the idea of children going to a temple or a gurdwara. He believed that children should only study and not waste their time in other things. We would go to temple stealthily with our grandmother, holding diyas and dhoop gingerly in our hands. His home was his only temple. But he was a spiritual being, a great worshipper of his work. 

It was difficult to win his appreciation. Once I got 95 out of 100 in maths and cheerfully rushed home. My grandfather was sitting in the courtyard. I showed him the paper. ‘How  have you lost 5 marks? Work hard in future. Maths means 100 out of 100.’ I complained to my father about his unkind words. My father corrected me, saying: ‘You don’t know, beta. Your grandfather loves you the most, but can’t express his love, hence he doesn’t appear to be a doting grandfather.’

One morning, I woke up to find my grandfather arguing with his younger brother. My mother told me he was annoyed with his brother who wanted to change the name of his daughter-in-law. ‘He is against the tradition of changing the name of a girl after her marriage, as he believes that a name is an identity. You can’t change her identity. He considers it a sin,’ she explained. 

I, too, experienced a similar situation. One morning while taking a walk with my grandfather, I stumbled upon my teacher. Seeing me, he said: ‘Hi, roll no 16! How are you? Strolling with your grandfather?’ Hearing this, he remarked: ‘Masterji, is this the way of addressing a child? Does he have no name? You’ve reduced him to a number. He is not a commodity.’ I pulled the edge of his kurta to silence him, fearing how I would face the teacher. But he continued: ‘Always respect the individuality of a person, irrespective of his age. If you teachers don’t do this, who will? My aged teacher still remembers my name.’

He was also a generous man, devoted to his homely duties. Never did I see him visiting any relative, but he would welcome all. He was a great fighter, who bravely vanquished the attacks of diseases, even surprising doctors. He was thankful to the doctors as they never advised him to be a teetotaller. In cold winter evenings, he would take a glass of wine with hot water.

One night, while going to the washroom, he slid on the floor and his head struck a pillar. He fell to never get up. 

I recall vividly a relative saying: ‘The great man lived for 100 years, but his bones are intact, not swallowed by diseases.’ But I know it was because he lived a chaste, steadfast and morally upright life. 

We, the grateful children, watch his walking stick hung on the door with reverence and feel his presence at home.