Tuesday, 9 July 2013

The Photograph

I lost my grandfather at a very young age. I don’t remember him and cameras were hard to come by in those times. Mum says that he was a great man and an even better doctor. Gave free treatments to the poor on Sundays apparently. Dad keeps on telling me to be more like him. My brother has fond memories of him- the lucky brat. He got to enjoy eight years with him, and I just eleven months. I often wished there were just one photo of him that I could see, just to know what he looked like. Just to be able to picture him, just to have an image to go with the stories I so regularly heard.
Last year, I lost my grandmother as well. She had stoutly refused to move out of our ancestral home, claiming she would take her last breath in the same room that my grandfather did. The usually echoing rooms of the ancient house were suddenly filled with kids' laughter. It was one such sunny, boisterous afternoon that I suddenly spotted the partially hidden entrance to the attic. The door seemed as if it were beckoning me and as usual without giving it a second thought, I clambered up the stairs. The sunlight filtered through the innumerable cobwebs in the skylight. I started examining the first shelf ; the things there were very, very old. I was sorting through the pile of old rubbish when I spied a little piece of parchment hidden behind a wall clock. I slowly slipped it out, careful not to tear it. It was no bigger than my palm. I turned it over and gasped. There, on the musty piece of parchment was a black and white picture of my grandmother and along with her, smiling out at me was my grandfather. I sat myself down in a small corner of the room, and stared at the photograph , trying to make out his face's details through the hazy photograph. He had the same cocky smile that I had, and his eyes seemed to twinkle knowingly at me even now. I kept sitting there for what seemed like an eternity, imagining him giving treatments to the poor and playing football like my father had recounted to me on several occasions. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, I was jolted out of my daze by the appearance of my mother, “What in the whole wide world are you doing in here? Everybody’s looking for you!”.

Nothing”, I said, standing up and pocketing the photograph, “absolutely nothing”. It still seems funny to me – the day I lost my grandmother was I day I almost got my grandfather back...

1 comment:

  1. Was this real?... it happened last december?
    Dadu would have been proud of your artistic flair ... as am I.

    Keep creating,
    Raka.

    ReplyDelete