Spent a lovely week, culminating with the 31st of this year, at my aunt’s place.
It is a lovely place in Whitefield, so much more a haven than “just a house”. With verdant gardens, and lily pools where goldfish frolic. A little turtle pokes his head out from the fronds and enjoys the morning sun. A catfish called Mao (only the Bongs will understand the joke, I think) who swims out to the surface when his name is called, and gobbles up the fish food. I think he is the only “pet” fish that I know of.
I spend the days in relaxed bliss, being looked after, chatting to Dida. The only blips on my radar are the loads of office work, and the daily commute to the city centre.
I wake up in the morning, and coffee appears magically by my side, whenever I stumble downstairs, groggy and half-asleep.
Meandering out into the garden, I collapse on a reclining chair, soaking in the sun. Dida sits by me, and discuss all and any random topic. She thinks I know everything. HAH!! I know zilch, as I tell her, I only know how to say what I know, in a convincing manner. I suspect it’s a genetic flair, got from a late grandfather of mine. At any rate, she loves hearing me speak. :-D
With my own Didubhai, as I used to call my late Gran, I didn’t spend as much quality time with her, as I could have. I was growing up and she was too slow for the pace, I felt back then, for me to slow down, and hold her hand for awhile. Now that she is gone, and I miss her fiercely, and I regret all those moments, wasted, vanished.
So now, I am softer, gentler with the Grans I have left, cherishing the time I spend with them. I think, I hope, that Dida enjoys my company.