It was the summer of 1999. I had just finished my 12th exams and was awaiting results.

With my eyes clearly set on joining the Armed Forces, I had not been preparing for any other competitive exams and therefore wasn’t too engrossed in the coaching classes as my other friends were. With a lot of free time to kill, I had gone to my hometown to stay with my grandmother. My Dadi.

She was my first love.

My parents tell me that she absolutely adored me from the day I was born and took special care of me. And I was so fond of her and attached to her that I would rather stay with her than go to any other place, even with my parents.

As I grew up a little and my parents moved to different places, owing to my father’s transferable job, it was because of her that I stayed back in my hometown. It was also my parents confidence in her strength and character to nurture and bring me up without having to uproot me at that tender age.

So, while my mother shuttled between two places and my father stayed alone at times, I was sheltered under my Dadi’s watch. She just didn’t take care of me but also taught me a lot of new things. Those formative years that I spent with her are forever etched in my memory.

Once I turned into a teenager, my father finally decided to move me from the hometown to a new place where he was posted. Although it was a difficult decision for both me and my Dadi, it was perhaps the need of the hour for me to have new experiences and learn new things.

The next few years we stayed in 2-3 places, and during all that time, we constantly visited our hometown for important festivals, special occassions, or simply over the weekend. In that period, as I made new friends and moved through middle and high school, I realized the importance of the lessons she imparted to me, which helped me grow as an individual.

All this increased the respect I had for her, multifold. While we were not staying together, I used to still cherish spending time with her on our frequent visits or whenever she came over to stay with us. We used to talk about myriad things, I used to tell her about what is happening in my life, tease her for her constant fixation with all things pertaining to running the house, play board games with her, and take care of her as she was growing old.

Naturally, in that summer of 1999, when I had nothing better to do after my exams, I decided to travel and stay with Dadi for a few days. During those days, she was constantly worried about the next steps in my life. I tried to explain to her my choice and the reason why I had chosen so. I also tried to assure her that she needn’t worry as I was a grown up boy now. It was finally my father who patiently explained to her my choice and convinced her about it. Finally, as she reluctantly calmed down, I heaved a sigh of relief, almost behaving as if I was through the selection process.

That evening, as I waved to her on my way out, something strange churned within me. We had both always been sad about parting, even if for a short while. That day, however, I felt high emotions. I remember thinking about it on the way and feeling uneasy. We eventually reached our other home, a hundred kilometers away, at nightfall. Winding down after dinner, I remembered her sad face and slowly settled down to sleep.

It was alas, the last time I had seen her alive. For that same night, we got news of her demise. We packed again and went back. I recall seeing her still body lying on an ice slab and everyone around crying and sobbing. Strangely, there were no tears in my eyes. Just plain sadness. I sat down beside her and prayed for a few minutes. There were enough people at home, although it was early morning, and a lot of them were consoling us.

But I had absolutely no tears. I was dumbfounded. It was my first experience of seeing someone who wasn’t alive. And that too, my beloved Dadi.

As a couple of hours passed in that trance, I kept rethinking about the last few days I had spent with her and various memories kept flashing across my eyes. It felt as if sitting across her, I had just been watching her sleep, like I used to do at times in a mischievious way to spook her. The only difference being, she could not respond now.

That’s when it hit me. That I had lost her forever. And that she would never be back. Realizing that, my dam burst, and it must have been for 30-40 minutes that I couldn’t stop my tears. Finally, I gathered myself and we performed her last rites later that day, bidding her body the final goodbye.

It has been almost 23 years. And yet, the memories still linger on. Her body may have gone but her soul persists in my concious and sub-concious mind. I remember her in my thoughts, in my dreams, and in my stories to my little one. And I am sure, she does too, somewhere in the universe. For as much as I loved her, she loved me much more!

Happy Valentine’s Day, Dadi. As we celebrate the week of love, I must call out to you again, love you forever…