A bit about my Grandpa

Char Dino Ka Mela Hai

This is a carnival, what good are promises here?
When the sun sets, everyone will take their own path.

My grandfather often said,
“Char dino ka mela hai, Baba ek akela hai.”
Back then, I didn’t understand the depth of his words. They seemed like something elders say — profound, but distant. I’d smile, nod, and move on, too caught up in the simplicity of my own life to reflect on what he was really saying.

But now, four years after he’s gone, his words echo in my life louder than ever. Living away from my family, far from the home I grew up in, I finally feel the weight of his wisdom.

The Pain in His Words

I think about him often. My childhood is filled with memories of his calm presence, his quiet wisdom, and the subtle sadness that seemed to linger in his eyes during goodbyes.

When I look back now, I understand that he wasn’t just sharing a poetic observation about life. He was speaking from experience, from the quiet pain of watching his children and grandchildren leave after every visit. Each time, the house that was once full of laughter would grow quiet again.

The last time I saw him, I remember the way he lingered at the gate as we drove away, waving until we were out of sight. I didn’t know it then, but those moments were his way of preparing for the silence that would follow. His way of accepting that, after all the joy of family being together, he would once again be akela.

A Cycle That Continues

Now, I see the same cycle playing out in my own life. My father, like his, moved away from his family to build a better life. He carried the burden of being away from home, of visiting only when time and responsibilities allowed. And now, I’ve done the same.

Living in Bangalore, I feel both the pride of chasing my aspirations and the guilt of leaving behind the people who matter most. My parents, who call me regularly to check in, often mask their longing to see me in their cheerful voices. My grandfather’s words remind me of what they might feel after every call ends, after every visit I have to cut short.

A Life in the City

The city is exciting, but it’s also lonely. My days are filled with meetings, deadlines, and the occasional outing, but there’s an emptiness that lingers. College friends, once so inseparable, have scattered across the world, each on their own journey. I scroll through old photos and laugh at the memories, but I know those moments can’t come back.

Sometimes, I sit in my quiet apartment and think about my grandfather. I wonder if he felt the same when he sat in his favorite chair after everyone had left. I wonder if the ache I feel now is the same ache he carried for years.

Keeping His Words Alive

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that my grandfather’s words weren’t just about loss — they were about living. He taught me that while the carnival is fleeting, it’s up to us to make the most of it.

Now, I try to live with that lesson in mind. I call my parents more often, not out of obligation, but because I want to share in their lives. I visit home not just for festivals or milestones, but for the quiet joy of sitting together and sharing a meal.

And I’ve started to make peace with the fact that life is a series of comings and goings. It’s not about holding on to every moment, but about being fully present in them while they last.

A Legacy of Connection

Though my grandfather is no longer here, his wisdom lives on in me. His words remind me to cherish the people I love, to nurture the relationships that truly matter, and to be grateful for every moment of togetherness.