Our old man.

Mutacha, so you like me more than Vandu right? asked Achu for the 50th time in the day, while Mutacha chose to ignore the question, for the 50th time.

Mutacha was brought home after a week in the hospital when the two granddaughters (Achu and myself) decided to remind him what he has been missing (read: noise). He hardly spoke, replied aan (yes) and once in a while when he did recognise us he would ask about our family, his great grandson but only in whispers. Once in a while he even threw the ball he was holding in his hands (to ensure circulation) and said, catch!

Our last few days were a mixed bag of emotions. Having never seen him lying on the bed, not chit-chatting with us, or even without reading a book for a whole day, I decided read to him without any knowledge if he heard me. We played his favourite music (RD Burman and Kishore Kumar) getting an occasional nod. He ignored us when we troubled him by asking incessant questions and sometimes closed his eyes to show us that he was sleeping, just to get rid of us (only to open his eyes after few minutes for us to catch him red-handed).

It’s going to be different.

Not sitting with him outdoors and reading our respective books.

Not seeing him walking slowly trying to balance himself, while his Walker rests in the room.

Not laughing when seeing him read the newspaper spreading it all across the floor.

Not being asked if we need travel allowance and some pocket money.

It’s going to be different when you lose the man who loved you from the day you were born till his last day.

And it’s going to be different cause he was home and now I need to teach myself to live in a world where he ceases to exist. But once in a while, when Achu and me are together again, we will look up to the brightest star in the sky, and I am sure she would ask again, Mutacha, so you like me more than Vandu right? and again, there would be a silence for that question.

Mutacha breathed his last on October 31st, 2020. He was 94.