Untainted Love

     Sometimes the sun rises with a message that you never want to hear, never want to embrace, but you have to since it is a truth or a reality. The day was ordinary as usual till I got that call from my father. From his faltering voice, I could feel the pain and the difficulty of holding it.

My Grandma was hospitalized. This was the news. Well! This is (blog) not for filling the feelings I had in my heart at that time. It is not to describe the pain piercing my relatives' hearts.

   

     After I got the confirmation from my uncle that she had passed away, I booked the flight ticket. It was early morning, and I had a lousy shift till 12-0-clock. For me, it wasn't new to be an insomniac. I used to like that, except for the fact that it brings migraine. Sometimes you have to tilt the truth since it is hard to accept. I walked down the empty road towards the airport at midnight at 2.15 am with a frozen heart. This is the second time I kept my heart frozen: unbreachable to thoughts, untouchable to feelings.

At last, I could catch an auto, and it brought me to the airport. Everything was fine, my journey, my timings, etc. I reached my home (father's home).

   

     My Grandma was 81 years old and had 4 daughters and two sons. My father was the elder, and my second son was the youngest. She was married to him for more than 60 years. My grandpa, for me, is a hero. He taught me lots of things, like yoga and meditation. He might also be in his 80s.

I saw many outbursts of emotions, but they never affected my callous mind. None of it has the heat to melt my frozen heart. For me, kissing a frozen, lifeless forehead wasn't new. Burial was over without any intensified moaning. After the burial, we had a holy mass for my Grandma. I was talking to my grandfather while moving to church. He told me he wanted to have tea and said he would come back soon. I didn't let him go alone. So we went together to the nearest tea shop to the church. While having our tea, we had some discussions. I always like to listen to my grandpa even though he repeats stories. I consider it an honor to listen to his stories since I could always feel the depth in his voice, the depth of the knowledge gained only from to and fro of life, and the depth of blessings achieved from the struggles. I was listening to a man who lost his better half, his soul mate, after 60 years of living.

He explained the last few moments of their life. All those things were picturized in my mind while he explained how she gave him more mutton liver and duck fry. He didn't know that he would never ever get anything like that. He explained to me the way she at him when she collapsed. He knew all those things became memories and were never part of the time. I felt like time separates life and death. We finished our tea and moved towards the church. While walking, he said I told him not to bring his scooter to the church, so he had to wait for others to reach home. I told him not to get his scooter because we had arranged a van for everyone. The next word from him changed everything. He said, "why would I go early where there is no Amminja(my grandma)."It pierced into my heart there, where I kept my feelings locked.

    My frozen heart melted as I kneeled before the love I thought had never existed in their relationship. I was wrong; we all were wrong; there was some bond we couldn't separate even by the fact that your better half never existed. It wasn't something we see in fiction, but we call love and foresee the end. It was something that never faded with your skin color or hair color. It was something that I wanted to achieve as love because that something showed the real loneliness, emptiness, and incompleteness when that love understood the lonely road ahead.

I never expected that from him. It was so sudden. As he looked to the straight road ahead and realized the truth that yesterday and tomorrow would never be the same, he disclosed his feelings to me. I hugged him tightly and held him close to me. We went back to the church for the Holy Mass. He had already told me that he had attended the Mass in the morning, so he didn't feel like going again. When we reached there, Mass had already started. As we entered the courtyard, I saw some of my relatives. He called me while I was talking to them and said.

"I am going to the church; you just talk to them."

Two minutes back, he was not interested in attending the Mass. Now he is so curious, I thought. Anyway, I also went with him. My parish church has side wings, one for men and the other for women. It is used by senior citizens. He was in the wings, and I was in the common area. I decided to be with him, so I went to his side of the church and attended Holy Mass. We were alone there, my grandpa and me. As I said, in many things, I respect my grandpa very well. Among that, the way he attends the Mass is the main. He has his own routine." When everyone stands, he sits; when everyone sits, he stands" this was the comment of his wife about him. I have never seen a person who hears the Holy Mass with love and devotion. I felt like the entire family is praying together at that time.

That Mass with my grandfather on the funeral day of my grandmother was unforgettable, but the bond between them was priceless.

    I walked back to where I belonged; I felt my grandfather's way and my way were alike since we had just walked alone; I went back to Mumbai, and he returned to his home. If I foresee my love as a fresh cigar waiting for a fire to be burned, then I predict my love will end as a burnt cigarette and leave the memories as ash. 'Ha,' Graveyard is the actual place that ultimately unites you, makes your love complete, and puts a full stop to your journey; an inerasable full stop. The death!