Summer of '69

It's amazing how human beings can be such creatures of habit. And as much as I hate to admit it, I am no exception.

My grandparents' home in Bangalore has always been my second home. I write this not to imply that anything has changed in this regard but because I'm totally overwhelmed at how different a place is even when one person is not around. It's the people that make a 'home'.

My grandparents' old house was called "Shanti Nilayam", which means "abode of peace" and this home meant a lot to all those who passed through it. It was on the outskirts of the city and it was here that I was initiated into the community of tree-climbers & kitchen-counter conversationalists :D My grandparents believed in all of their children and grandchildren being brought up as citizens of the world. They were one hell of a formidable team. The home generated love and togetherness. The home connected us with the rest of the world. The home...I'm beginning to sound like a cracked gramophone record.

The new house is just an extension of the old one. All the things that I said before hold true. But with my grandfather not around to make his physical presence felt, I feel a void. Something is missing. Most conversations have some sort of reference to how Appa would have liked it or what he used to say. Yesterday morning, we were sorting out things in the cupboard and came across a whole bunch of things that belonged to Appa. The Air Force uniform cap, old photos, scrap pieces of paper with his writing on it, notes of encouragement to members of the family..anyone who came across it would get a glimpse into the enthusiasm, determination and vitality of this man, who I am so proud to call my grandfather.

We have so many things to learn from the likes of him. If I'm even half as determined as him during the latter part of my life, I would consider myself very lucky. The motivation and urgency with which he went about his daily routine (even at the age of 94) so that he could live life to the fullest, would most definitely put a majority of us 20 year olds to shame. There are so many memories of him that will remain with me for as long as my memory is intact; a thumbs-up before we embarked on that eventful journey by ambulance from Vellore to Bangalore, that hug I got on the last day I saw him..the last goodbye. Appa's always been my hero and any older male has and will probably always be compared to him. I love you, Appa..I probably didn't tell you that enough during your lifetime but Bangalore just doesn't seem the same without you.