Age is just a number if you make it count

‘Thatha’ (as I fondly called him in Tamil) or ‘Nanaji’ (an everyone else called him) was the most amusing person I had ever met. Each day he reminded me how age is just a number. I was an adolescent, and he was well past his senior citizen threshold. He had grey eyes, fair skin, and a smile on his lips to greet one and all. He was nothing like the other grandparents my friends would introduce me to. While the others of his age enjoyed the stability that life brought in, my Thatha detested staying at one place for more than a few days.

He retired from the Indian Railways and would get two free travel passes each year. If there ever had been a survey for the most loyal railways customer, we all know where my Thatha would rank. He would make sure he attended marriages, naming ceremonies, birthdays, anniversaries, and housewarming parties with equal fervour. He had friends in all corners of the country and made more of them on his perennial journeys. He once planned to go to the engagement ceremony of an artist he met on an overnight train journey. I thought this to be one of his childish musings, until he received a very warm invite and made it to the auspicious occasion. He would sometimes take the flight given the convenience, but I believe the relationships he nurtured during his train expeditions always stayed close to his heart.

He had a charm about him that made people instantly like him. He could make lengthy conversations with kids and adults alike. He made friends with my friends and their parents and their friends, which made him popular in my neighbourhood. His visits to my house would always be met with clamour and excitement. People would bring him tea and sweets, and often call him to religious gatherings at their homes. He maintained a diary which had the addresses of all his acquaintances. People often telephoned him to get the latest whereabout of friends and relatives before sending out marriage invitations.

Cricket was his forever love. He breathed cricket till the end. Thatha watched every match that was ever played and their broadcasted replays. He wouldn’t dare miss the pre-match analysis and speculations and the post-match award ceremonies. It wasn’t important who was playing or who won. He watched the game for the pure joy it brought him.

Thatha also loved watching movies – even the latest Bollywood ones with lots of emotional drama. He was an avid reader and had a huge collection of Tamil and English books which he happily shared with others. He was always very interested in whatever I read and patiently waited for me complete my novel so that he can have it. I swear I almost saw him teary eyed while reading the ‘Kite Runner’ (by Khalid Hosseini).

He consumed every morsel of news that the newspaper had to offer and then watched all news channels to make sure nothing missed his eye. He loved to collect advertisement pamphlets that came with the morning newspaper and scribbled notes on the blank side. Thatha knew this habit really annoyed me so he would hide the pamphlets under his pillow (and I would always find them to his dismay). He also collected diaries, pens, gift wrapping papers, fancy carry bags and anything else that caught his attention. He stocked orange toffees that would be distributed to kids whenever they visit.

He was a complete foodie. He loved sweets despite being diabetic and never missed a chance to savour a laddu or jalebi, albeit in secret. Tea would be welcome at any hour of the day. He would also go and buy samosas from the nearby sweet shop for evening tea. He would be excited when mom made South Indian delicacies on festivals. Mom would bring him a packet of chips on her way back from office and even that would be an object of his excitement. He also loved receiving gifts. They didn’t have to be anything expensive, but just a token of love. He would beam with joy if I got him nothing but a small fridge magnet, or a figurine or a shawl or a notebook from one of my travels. He cherished every moment and gesture, small or big.

Thatha was religious and never missed his morning puja. But he was open to modern opinions and new age technology. He was also very independent and organised. He always remained on top of his finances and made regular visits to his bank to check on his investments. He planned his travels and doctor visits well in advance. His medicines were stocked at regular intervals and health check-ups would never be delayed. He oiled his hair and got it cut regularly despite me often joking that he is wasting time and money on a depreciating asset. He wore his sports cap and took his stick and went for regular evening walks. Even when he crossed eighty, he was in complete charge of his life.

He was planning a trip to Malaysia just before the tragedy struck. He was in bed due to a broken bone for just about a month before taking his last breath. We were all shocked since it was so sudden. But, for me, there was no sorrow. I knew he was amongst the very few who had lived their lives to the fullest. He did not let the adversities bow him down. He was nice to even those who did not reciprocate the same. Despite losing his partner a long time ago and his children growing up and getting busy in their own lives, he did his best to lead a rewarding and meaningful life. His enthusiasm was infectious, and so was his smile.

He did not wait for a miracle to realise his dreams. He did not depend on others to make his wishes come true. He took it on himself to make his life worthy and brought joy to all of us who knew him. I sometimes regret not telling him how much I love him, but I believe he always knew how loved he was.

I wonder how Thatha would have dealt with the pandemic had he been alive. He would have been surely sad to see his train journeys being restricted. But he would have found new interests along the way. He would have binge watched the Ramayana and Mahabharata that ran non-stop on tv during first wave, started to build a collection of fancy masks, got hooked to new series on Netflix and Hotstar, and set the record for having the maximum number of watsapp group memberships. He would have also continued to bless us all in his customary way by saying ‘Health is Wealth’.