The home at Patton remained as a bad memoir. I lived there for quite a few years. It was my dad’s idea to purchase a flat from HK constructions. He had an undiagnosed pain in the knees. To take a break from the long daily travel to office, a nearby flat was a good thought.
I was excited to go to the city. During the vacation I charted out a plan to set up a city life. I started packing before two months. Except for one thing I was on air. I had to miss my grandparents. They were the one who grew me up. My mother worked miles away when we were kids and my grandparents served the roles of my parents.
My grandparents loved my sister and me sincerely. We were their favourite grandkids too. They remained our backbones for a long fifteen years. They shared with us our joys, sorrows, pains, everything. They knew all our secrets. Even at the dawn of my teens, grandma’s bedtime story was a must.
Seemed like a bad luck when dad first told about his plan to move to the city. However, we started realizing the truth. Slowly, we started to get involve more with the idea. Everything was settled.
The day came. Being firm believers of Christianity, every good function commenced with a prayer by the Priest. Some of our relatives were invited for the function. The kids were exploring the new house. I was busily finding the best room to make it mine. Elders were busily fixing feasts for the guests. I met a lot of people who I had not known before. Dad introduced them as our neighbours. Amidst all, I forgot to spend time with my favourite people, my grandparents.
The Essay on Devil In The White City
Erik Larson’s non- fiction best seller portrays murder, magic and madness that occurred at the fair that changed America. The construction of The Columbian exposition began in 1891 and if on time was to be finished by 1893. This gave world famous architect Daniel Burnham a little over two years to achieve the impossible. There were other problems than just building the fair, there was corruption ...
I searched for them. They were not in the crowd. I entered my parents’ would-be room. The sight shocked me. I had to re think whether I am attending a funeral function. That was what I saw on my grandparents’ face. I was not able to keep my face up. I understood how hard it was for them to part with us. Poor old couple. What possible voice could they raise? In a few moments, they would return to their home. We would start living our new lives. Nobody knew about the next meeting.
Lots of memories passed through my mind. How much fights I had with her- for being disobedient, for not eating, for ruining her wardrobe…I wish I could hate her for one second. Tears rolled down my eyes. It blurted out. My grandmother looked back. For the first time I saw tears in her eyes. I was always under the impression that elders never cry or it just happened in the movies. My mind was flaunted by grandpa’s subtle smile and grandma’s weeping. I wished I could go back. I wished I were a kid again, running errands for my grandparents, creating chaos, 24*7 being yelled at indulging in my grandmother’s masterpiece- the lime pickle…For a moment, I cursed myself for growing up so fast.
They would not stay with us. They preferred the quietness of the village. They went back.
I studded my room with their photos and gifts. Not a single day passed without me shedding a tear. Every night before bed, I prayed hard for some miracle to happen so that we could be together again.
I remembered my grandmother advising me that if I had strong faith any miracle would happen. And it did.
Happy days are here again. Now my grandparents are officially in charge of the twins. They are staying with my family- my husband, I, and my two little rascals. They are full time parents for them. Juggling between career and academic life, and the possession of four full time employed parents, we could not find any one else, but my precious grandparents, to be the nannies for our kids.
I always trusted the bedtime fairy tales of my grandma. Now when I hear them again, I cannot help, but empathize.
My precious people.
-Nithya Jim Robinson
