I don't know what compels me to write this after so many years but something in the back of my mind makes me wish to do this.Though i have never engaged myself in writing something in person as in about myself or share something about myself but today i am doing it for the first time and let's see may be for the last time.
My grandfather..he had expired a longtime back.The only relation i remember having with him was that he used to be around with me and we used to just sleep together side by side..saying or speaking nothing at all.I never used to talk with anyone at my home until and unless i wanted to.So all in all reserved.So was he,he never said or asked me anything just that sometimes used to call out my name.Everyday in the evening time we used to have shondha(evening time) at our home (we have it now also) it was specially done by my Dada as we call him in Bengali.Whenever he used to return with the barkosh(a wooden plate) black in color having little pieces of fruits placed on them,i used to be the first one jumping around and asking for one of the little pieces.Whenever the conch's echo was heard i knew he was done with the boi kaali(to worship a particular deity the ritual performed in the evening) which i used to call book black after i learnt English a bit as in Bengali boi means book and kaali means black.My favorite was the mango and still is.But interestingly being a child of the age 4 or 5 you really can't distinguish what is profit and what is loss for you so whenever i used to know that mango is being cut for the boi kaali i used to wait for the seed wrapped up in little bit of pulpy mango and not the other two parts which were cut and separated from it.
Sometimes we used to smile at each other out of no reason.I had seen him deteriorating in his health and as a child i had no idea what exactly was the problem with him but i knew that something was not correct when he stopped doing the boi kaali.
I just have one snap(which is now lost and image captured by my memory remains) of him smiling and sitting by the side of my Thamma(grandmother) with me in his lap and my cousin brother in Thamma's lap.I wore a polka dotted pink color frock,he a plain white panjabi(a loose fitting long cloak like top) and pajama(loose fitting lower),my Thamma in a saree (i don't remember it's color)and my brother in a shirt and shorts(i don't remember it's color either).Interestingly of this image i just remember what my Dada and me wore and i specifically remember it was my birthday and he was trying to pose while pushing inside the piece of cake inside my mouth.
Another sweet memory that i have beside me is the best possible dessert i could have ever had in my life.It was really simple but i don't know my Dada made it just fabulous it was nothing but some sweet and sour apples shredded nicely and done something after that(that something still remains a mystery to me as he expired before i could have any knowledge of the technicalities of things being made and destroyed).
I loved it and i still love it and i still have the taste of it sometimes lingering in my mouth..
I named it on my own and my elders at home still address it with the name i had once given that unique and delightful dessert which was 'Swadd' ..
So this is for my 'Dada' :) . .You are or you are not but in memory you are and will remain. .
P.S.-From some days i have been sleeping on the same side of the room and bed as i used to with my Dada so maybe he has thought of knocking me to just say a hie to his memories :)