Re-discovering the known

I still remember the look on his face…the bliss...the contentment…the satisfaction.
At 92, Dadaji (my paternal Grandfather) had been there…Seen it all…Read it all…Done it all...
Born during the British Rule, losing his father at 4 in France during the 2nd world war, marriage at the tender age of 9, running away from home in his teens to quench his thirst for knowledge, joining the army at 24 against his mother’s wish, losing his mother, birth of his children, playing tennis, early retirement from the army, children getting married, back to work with a company in Pune, retirement again, birth of his grand children, saving enough to build a beautiful house in Dehra Doon…my birthplace, moving to Doon, grand children getting married, moving back to Pune due to issues concerning his health, birth of great grand children, quitting tennis, partial memory loss and finally paralysis.

He was 71 when I was born…thin, tall, athletic and with his 32 teeth intact even at that age. I’m quite sure if one were to make all people his age stand together he would stand out …not because of his height…coz he never looked his age. He could easily pass off for someone 5- 10 years younger.

As a child I spent some memorable times with him…watering the veggies in his kitchen garden, planting saplings, going grocery shopping with him on his bicycle, morning walks with him and “Gora” his pet dog (a cute Lhasa Apso), sitting and watching him from the side lines of the tennis court while he coached youngsters, meeting his friends during evening walks…But we never spoke much. He was a man of few words and I was a quiet child.

In the years to come we interacted several times on various occasions but the conversations between us were short and precise…mostly around me, my studies and my life. I guess it was the age difference or may be the generation gap that reduced the length of our dialogues.

When he passed away the look on his face left me with a strange feeling. I felt as though I had missed something…
As though there was a part of him that I didn’t know
As though there was something more than what I had heard from my father about him…probably something about the 70 years of his life before I knew him.
I regretted not making an effort to know the person he had been, about his past, his achievements, good times, bad times, trials, tribulations, adventures …in short all that made him so satisfied with the way he had led his life.

Years passed by and the very thought of not trying, not making that extra effort, left me melancholy.
Then out of the blue and almost suddenly I got my hands on a few old albums. Exactly like the ones seen in movies…the ones used to show something old…ancient…or of a past era. Albums in which black & white photographs are pasted with sticky brown glue on black tinted sheets and butter paper separates every black page. On further investigation I got to know that they belonged to the one person I regretted not knowing - Dadaji.
My just found treasure thrilled me coz not only did the album have photographs of him, but they also had neatly typed and equally neatly pasted dates and subtitles under each photograph. I was surprised to see how well each page was compiled and each event well documented… just like a journal.

As I went through the albums I felt as if he was there with me…taking me through each page…date by date…event by event…telling me a story of a handsome young man who was outgoing, loved travelling, enjoyed spending time friends and family, a complete foodie, fond of dressing well, crazy about Tennis, fascinated by capturing moments on camera (trust me he was really good at it), brave and fortunate enough to survive dangerous expeditions and a great story teller. Everything that he wasn’t in the years I had known him.
This was the story I had never heard…
Things about him I never knew…
Things I longed to know…
Things he wanted me to know…
Things I was destined to find out.

After 3 albums and a few dozen loose photographs the story ended just before the time I was born…as though telling me -“you know what happened next”

The handsome young man - My Grandfather

The army man (centre)