its been 17 years since his demise.. my grandpa.. my one true fan, friend, everything..
I would not be boasting if I said I was his favourite. It is true I was. He died in a "hit-and-run" accident on may 1st 1991. When I was but 7, still a young kid trying to grasp the world my little chubby hands.
unconditional love. That would explain everything. I do not know why I was special, probably just a little bit more than my other cousins and siblings. Probable because I was the youngest around. He was the one who taught me to speak, taught me English. And I will blame him for my inability to speak tamil. haha. True. I do remember an incident when I was roughly 5 or 6 and my elder sisters were speaking to me Tamil and were trying to teach the language, Grandpa heard what was going on and he kinda reprimanded them and told them to never speak to me in Tamil again. ahaha... but yeah.. i do speak tamil now.. just not as fluent..
He loved reading. He read novels, encyclopedias, whatever reading materials he could find, and then would gather us around and tell us stories. Stories on animals, stories on the Big Bear (zodiac,star) .. He was jovial, full of fun and life. Everyday before I started kindergarden, he would bring me along to his daily coffee session with his buddies.. There I would be walking around Penang town, my little hand in His, or perhaps at times when my legs were tired, he would have carried me. I don't know. I don't remember much. But I do remember sitting on stacked up chairs eating ice cream while they drank coffee in sturdy china worn by age and time just like them. Every wrinkle tells a story of a lifetime. He would then pour a bit of coffee in the saucer for me drink.. Just because its hot.
And when I started Kindergarden, he would walk me to school every morning and fetch me in the afternoon, where we would stopby hawker stalls and grab fruits and snacks on our way back. I know if he was still alive now, he would have been proud of us all, proud of his children, and would have been more than happy to let me join his coffee sessions in old chinese coffee shops, with us sharing stories, now with me to tell him my life.
Thank you tata, for always loving me. May your soul rest in peace.
I would not be boasting if I said I was his favourite. It is true I was. He died in a "hit-and-run" accident on may 1st 1991. When I was but 7, still a young kid trying to grasp the world my little chubby hands.
unconditional love. That would explain everything. I do not know why I was special, probably just a little bit more than my other cousins and siblings. Probable because I was the youngest around. He was the one who taught me to speak, taught me English. And I will blame him for my inability to speak tamil. haha. True. I do remember an incident when I was roughly 5 or 6 and my elder sisters were speaking to me Tamil and were trying to teach the language, Grandpa heard what was going on and he kinda reprimanded them and told them to never speak to me in Tamil again. ahaha... but yeah.. i do speak tamil now.. just not as fluent..
He loved reading. He read novels, encyclopedias, whatever reading materials he could find, and then would gather us around and tell us stories. Stories on animals, stories on the Big Bear (zodiac,star) .. He was jovial, full of fun and life. Everyday before I started kindergarden, he would bring me along to his daily coffee session with his buddies.. There I would be walking around Penang town, my little hand in His, or perhaps at times when my legs were tired, he would have carried me. I don't know. I don't remember much. But I do remember sitting on stacked up chairs eating ice cream while they drank coffee in sturdy china worn by age and time just like them. Every wrinkle tells a story of a lifetime. He would then pour a bit of coffee in the saucer for me drink.. Just because its hot.
And when I started Kindergarden, he would walk me to school every morning and fetch me in the afternoon, where we would stopby hawker stalls and grab fruits and snacks on our way back. I know if he was still alive now, he would have been proud of us all, proud of his children, and would have been more than happy to let me join his coffee sessions in old chinese coffee shops, with us sharing stories, now with me to tell him my life.
Thank you tata, for always loving me. May your soul rest in peace.
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