The Sunset

Picture somebody dead being moved in a decorated cart. The journey is going to be pretty long. Extending to Hundred…Thousand miles. With them they take away memories of countless days, nights and years in closed lockers. Will they remember us when they are gone? Is the closed locker opened now and then to show them what it was when they lived on earth? How is it for them there? I do not wish to discriminate that the good head to heaven and bad to hell but I do believe that they head to this hallow. A hallow which is the home for the dead. According to me, it’s the new home where all the dead in a family reunite forever. My grandma and grandpa should be there. United.

Awestruck I’m when I tend to remember certain things. They gave me a home. A home many children miss today. If I look through the old photographs I realize how fortunate, I was to have enjoyed a childhood that most children today are denied. A home to go to, every weekend, and every vacation fitted in so well as a child. That home in Keeladi (my grandparent’s home) gave me love, tears, games, sweat and the food, I can’t forget. If I could think back, I can still remember how it felt to dig that mud to build a hut (We were satisfied with huts, never even dreamt of castles). Then dig deep into drainage and look for mango seeds (The combination is of course, weird). I cherish visiting temples, bare foot…feeling the heat. I can still hear voices of child play, running, jumping and screaming. Dirty clothes changed at last for a good meal and sleep. These are experiences that make your life wholesome…glad I had a share of that in my early days – A memorable childhood.

When we’re young, we do not realize what it means to be a part of a home. A home whether you like it or not binds you as a family. A home that made you look forward to vacations and weekends. A grandma who touches your chin and smiles, a grandpa who gives a curt nod when you convey your greetings and most important it gets impossible to imagine that you ever lived in a home that was never locked!

My grandparents live in hallow these days. I’ve convinced myself that a portion of their soul lives in hallow whereas the other portion lives in a photograph in my bedroom. That photograph is important to me because I captured it, years ago and both of them were looking at ME and ME alone when I took it. So obviously, I was in their mind that second, so the charm kind of works well with me.

The remarkable thing there is that they never advised me of anything other than to eat on time and take care of my health. But there is lots they have conveyed through actions, their way of life and most important the respect that they truly deserved from people around. They have set their hearts on the greater gifts. They have chosen the path which surpasses all others. The path of love, the path seeks to nurture, the path that always heals. I realized it was their strong commitment to love and all of its qualities of patience, of its desire to seek to understand before being understood, to rejoice in truth, combined with their unwavering devotion and faith to God that had been the secret to their success.

Most of all a well organized life.

The home is still there, in the same village. But I’m sure as the true masters rest…the original warmth is lost. Only memories shall dwell in all those hearts that love them.

It’s like my grandma mixed up this magic potion which she had stumbled upon, many many years ago in order to build a “home” that seems to elude the most. A home, a shadow that is gone now.

I never knew that a sunset could hurt so much…