Journeys: Part I

Travelling has always been a hobby, a passion and a sort of escapade. Going to a place where I can lose myself, be myself, not be judged and just enjoy the things around me; sometimes, even the company. I remember almost all of my travels from as far back as my memory can take me. My first flight alone was from Delhi to Ahmedabad when I was thirteen. I remember sharing the waiting lounge with Dia Mirza and desperately trying to figure out where I had seen her. One of my favourite trips was to Jaipur, Ajmer and Ranthambore with my maternal grandparents and parents on the occasion of my grandparent’s 50^th wedding anniversary. Being an animal lover, naturally Ranthambore was my favourite part of this trip. I remember staying in a tent with cots, eating the most delicious meals and going on safaris to look for animals. We spotted quite a few, but the tigress teaching her three cubs to climb the trunk of a tree was my favourite. Several journeys followed after, mostly unaccompanied. Dehradun – Delhi – Mumbai – Bangalore became regular cities to come and go from. But in the last three years, I have made especially haunting trips to Dehradun.  And I never imagined I would.

Two years ago on the 13^th of March, I was in Mumbai spending an afternoon attempting to make aloo parathas. My phone started buzzing and I saw my mother calling. I picked up the phone in the excitement of telling her how I was mastering the art of making round parathas. My mother’s voice was so composed that I would never have figured out that there was something wrong had she not told me.

“I think you should come home babes. The doctors say Nana has less than 24 hours left. He’s sinking.”

I kept shut for a while. I didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t worry, Mumma. I’ll come. You don’t worry about anything, okay? I’ll manage. I’ll come as soon as possible.” I was desperately trying to fight back tears.

I thought being brave for my mother was the only way I could help her get through this. My mind was racing. I didn’t know what I should do. How would I get home? A few minutes later, my father, who was in Baroda at the time, called me up to tell me when he would be reaching Delhi and asked me to book a flight that reached around the same time.

After a long flight and a short wait at Delhi airport, I wondered if I should have called my mother and asked what was happening. I decided against it and just as I looked up from my the screen of my phone, I saw my father coming towards me from the arrivals. He gave me a brief hug and called up my mother. As he was on the phone with my mother, I got a message from my cousin.

“I am so sorry to hear about your grandfather. I hope you’re okay.”

I realized that my grandfather had passed away, probably while I was on the flight to Delhi. I looked up to see my father putting his phone away. He came towards me, held my hand and said, “Nana’s passed away.” I fought back tears and replied with an “I know.”

We got into the taxi that was supposed to take us from Delhi airport to Dehradun. It was already 10 pm and my father said we would probably reach home at 4 in the morning. He asked me to go to sleep in the taxi but both of us knew better. As I settled myself into the back of the taxi, I reminisced the memories I had with my grandfather. He had gotten me my fourth dog when everyone was against it. He got himself a dog much to my grandmother’s dismay and asked me to look after it in the initial days. A crossword aficionado, he was a man with skin of leather and a heart of gold. He took up all the expenses of my education from when I was in primary school and continued all the way till I finished my Bachelors degree. He supported me with all my passions; dreams and he pushed me to achieve more than I thought I could. He was the perfect example of a man who worked hard to get what he wanted.

I rubbed my eyes as we pulled into the driveway of my house. My mother came down the stairs to greet us. I hugged her tight and kissed her on the cheek.

“Thank God you’re home”, she said to my father and me.

We didn’t sleep that dawn. As soon as the sun started rising, I went off to my Nani’s house. Having just lost her husband, she looked lonely but fiercely strong. She was sitting on her verandah drinking her morning tea when I entered. I hugged her for a long time.

It was 9 am when the ambulance came into the gate with my grandfather’s mortal remains. Just as it halted, I heard Nana’s dog (the one he brought without consent) let out a loud, shrill howl. A lot of their friends had gathered around to be with my nani and to help with the rituals. My mother being an only child was supposed to do the rituals but she asked my uncle (my grandfather’s nephew) to do it instead. On my grandfather’s final journey, as the hearse moved towards the crematorium, I sat in the car following it. My mother was on one side of me and my grandmother on the other side. I looked at the two strongest women I knew; one who had lost her father and the other who had lost her husband. I saw them compose themselves for what was ahead. The cremation was conducted while I held my mother’s cold hands and stood next to the pyre. My father helped my uncle with the rituals while my grandmother’s friends kept her company sitting under a tree at the other end of the crematorium. As we watched the pyre being lit, my mother started joking about how my grandfather would have hated the lack of uniformity in the way the wood was placed on the pyre. I looked at her proudly.

My third year board exams were around the corner and I had to go back to Mumbai. A week after the immersion of the ashes, I went to my grandmother’s house to say goodbye. She smiled and told me to come soon. I promised I would. She hugged me and told me to “be good.” As I walked out of the door leading out of her house, I missed my grandfather. He always kissed my cheek when I was going away from home.

“Bye sweets, take care and come back soon,” he would say.

I turned around to look at my grandmother who was standing alone at the doorway waving to me. ‘I’ll be back soon’ I thought as I wiped away my tears. I’ll come back and stay with her. As I left home thinking about how lonely my grandmother would be, I saw my parents standing together outside the house. I smiled at the thought of them being there for each other. I knew I would come back to them soon enough. I got onto the flight leaving behind my parents, grandmother and dogs with the hope of returning as soon as I could to be with them again. I looked forward to the travel back to Mumbai hoping to encounter new things.

I was back home five months later…for a reason I never expected.