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My Grandfather - PART 1

Updated: Aug 8, 2021

My paternal grandfather was a great man. Tall built, Indian attire and walking cane. He was a righteous man who worked and retired as a Deputy Registrar of Co-operative Societies. Father of ten, widowed at an early age, he had those guts to raise the family in his stride with the help of his mighty eldest son, whom we fondly called Nannanna (Nanna’s Anna). My Nannanna was a legend. He is that hero of every family who shoulders responsibility and carries the weight with a smile on his face. His wife, equally shared the burden and raised the family as her own. We can write a book on him. He always stood by his father and his brothers followed him.


My grandfather never chose anyone to take his wife’s place in spite of having many children to raise. Though he had seen his fair share of struggles like seeing his better half passing away, followed by his eldest daughter and one of his son's demise, he had done his part with poise. He taught the entire family to stand by ‘work is worship’ and lived by the same. He faced innumerable struggles but could surpass them with his army of children. The kind of value system he passed down to generations always left us in awe. It is intact in all of us and now it is the major driving factor of our lives.


Our fond memories of him are when we were scared to cross his room, whenever we went to Peddillu (where the larger family lived). His room was always the first one to be, as soon as we entered the house. We had this little merry fear of him. While tip toing inside he always sensed our presence and shouted ‘eyyy’ loud enough to miss a beat in our tiny hearts. All our cousins, who were waiting for that lion’s roar giggled and danced to his room happy only to receive sugar candy and Britannia biscuits. I never ate a tasty biscuit ever after.


He was fond of me as I was one of his youngest grandkids. I played cards with him and even once I never won him. He always closed the game immediately after distributing the pack, laughing and shouting with joy ‘show’. My little soul was so surprised at his talent and took pride in spending that time with him in his room. He used to take casual evening stroll to the nearby club and spend time with his friends. Our treasure hunts always targeted big old trunk below his cot, diary he wrote every day and the famous wooden box that contained chalk clay and saffron powder which he daily used to draw a sacred mark (Tirunamam) on his forehead. He retired from life in his early eighties. I was still a school kid then. The departure was great too. He slept and didn’t wake up. A blissful end to a worthy life. Whenever we remember him, it is this gleam of happiness we cherish with a proud smile that we belong to his lineage.

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