Thinking of my grandfather.
Today is the death anniversary of my grand-father, and somehow, he was a person who deeply touched me. In our tradition, baptism name of the eldest son is the name of the paternal grandfather, and so I got my baptismal name from him. I share two experiences; one which marked me profoundly and the other (though very old) is still in the memory.
- My grandfather was a character who evoked respect, love and a little fear in me. We loved him, but there was a slight fear of getting a shouting from him. When I decided to join the Jesuits, it was a difficult decision for my family. I remember visiting my grandparents to say “bye” before I join the Jesuits. We had meals, talks… everything went well. When I was about to leave, my grandparents gave a kiss. They were happy about my decision. But I saw one drop of tear from the eyes of my grandfather. Though sufficiently healthy at that time, he was not sure whether he would meet me again, which was probably the reason for the moist eyes. For me, that one tear was one of the deepest expressions of his gentleness for me. I met him once more before he passed away.
- A second incident I remember is from my childhood. Most of the cousins (who were in India) were assembled for some celebration. Except one, all of us were boys. All of us were in the age group of 6–11. The female cousin demanded us to include her in the game. And we refused. I don’t remember what we said to her. But it was something like “it is a boy’s game”. She went and complained to the elders; everyone starting from grandfather fired us so badly. I don’t know why this remained marked in our life; probably we rarely were the target of such a horrible firing.
I remain grateful to him for his love and all the wonderful memories. I thank God for his rich life.