Tuesday, September 9, 2008

For my Baba

So the saying is true. "You win some, you lose some."

I won the two-year battle with myself, family, everyone important and frustrating factors beyond my control to study in a foreign country. I packed my bags and moved to a new land, determined to blaze my own trail. And the timing coincided with another monumental change in my life.

The day I left, I also lost a friend. A mentor, my hero, my best friend. After a two-week hospital battle with painful medical odds, my Baba breathed his last.

With the people that I'm close with, a part of me becomes firmly associated with. It's a bond in which I don't want to ever forget them and don't ever want them to ever forget me. So when I lose such a person, temporariliy or permanently, I break off a large piece of that bond and send it with them. While I do lose a large part of myself with their absence, I like to believe it's like a souvenier that they can remember me by. And I have the other half, or part at least, to remember them by. Kind of like best friend hearts where two best friends have either halves of a heart that becomes whole when joined together. It's my way of ensuring their immortality. Even if they leave, they live on inside me. That way, I never really lose them.

I miss my Baba. There's no doubt about it. This was only the second man to have ever carried me as a baby, after my father. To have cherished me growing up. And to have supported me as an adult. He always made me smile, his laugh was contagious and I loved the way he smelled.

I'll never forget his penchant for ties or the fact that he never needed an excuse to be in full suit. Most importantly, his fiery spirit is seared in me. His fearless attitude, his bold decisions and his ultimate disregard for authority. The rebellion appealed to the rebel in me.

Home will miss your sparkling personality. Our larger social circle will miss its leader.

And strangely, I don't feel the need to grieve such a loss. I questioned why my eyes were dry at the funeral. I expected to be torn and inconsolable. I felt nothing of sort.

More thinking made it evident to me that perhaps this was because his life needn't be mourned. It needed to be celebrated. Because that's what he brought into our lives everyday that he was a part of it. A celebration.

That's how I've decided to remember him. As someone who made a real effort at ensuring I was happy. As someone who fought against the world to find his place in the sun and who left it having touched so many lives.

Baba, you make me proud. You always have.

I am grateful that you are in a safe and comfortable place where you can look down and see how much your children love you.

For all the greatness that you were during your time with us, for all the memories you built with us, for all the dreams you made come true - Baba we love you for all of it and so much more.

You are not lost. You live on inside my heart, my soul, my mind. You are a part of me, just as you always were. And you always will be.

May your soul rest in peace.


- Ubiquitous - said...

Amen. :-)

Unknown said...


Namitha said...

May his soul rest in peace, and May your heart full of love never lose his memories.
I do not know what the loss of a loved one is, touch wood, but when I read your post, I choked. With respect to ur Baba, and empathy with you...

In love with the city said...

Thank you for your wishes

IS said...

I wish I had known this when it happend.
Having felt it first hand, I know that the demise of a dear one is such that a wish even years later gives a calm feeling. So let me look up at the skies and wish peace for him and for us.
When you told me about this the other night, I was really upset but did not want to show it in my voice, knowing that you were miles away and needed courage.
I have never seen your grandfather, never met him. But there's so much I have known and heard of him from you that his absence feels like a void to me also.
These are unavoidable events and all that we can do is, to learn something... from the life he lived and the life he left...

Warm hugs to you and your family.