"..Prem se baat ho sakti hai..?.."
This morning when was all alone at home there came a call on landline, the person on the other side asked- "Prem se baat ho sakti hai.".. i was all shocked and silent, searching some way to somehow agree upon his wish- and after a few seconds of pause- asked "aap kaun?"...he said- "Khurana...unka dost...."
I somehow was trying to carry on the conversation without letting the mist flow out, to shout out--- "Papaji aap ka phone hai...koi Khurana uncle ka.."...and he would have so excitedly came and recieved the call...and with all his smiles and laughters he might have came, taking the receiver- and would have said-- "Helloooo...Namastey Khurana Sahab...aur kya haal chaal hain aap ke..?..badey din baad phone kiya...."..........
...fumbling with words, I informed the tragic loss and that person was shocked said- "Bhambri ji ki baat kar rha hun mei.."...."kafi din se baat nai hui thi, maine socha phone hi kar lu.."...he thought he might have dialled the wrong number....i said- "nai uncle number toh thek hai...."...
.......par Bhambhri ji ka address change ho gaya hai..... :'
...and such instances makes you feel that he's just there- invisible- just right there where he always is...
still alive in memories- the places- more then memories- not even the whole of the city constituting his friends knew completely about it...
that night- a month later his birthday- and he wished us Goodbye.
I thought of posting a lot many times before- but waited for the scars to heal- its been a few months now- and as i write it, the mist is all floating in the vision...and the fleeting memories....
Many a times the instances happen during the daily household chores that reminds of him....
the cylinder delivery person- whenever he comes he always misses him and praise his goodness..
the neighbourhood people who all sit together in the park in the evenings and have hearty laughters and energetic talks...that whole area seems lost of its energy...the evenings are all silent for the senior group...
..the sundays arent anymore like they use to be- when we all remain at home- and he use to go long way to sabzi mandi to get the week stock of vegetables...
the festivals arent that much joyous- there came 'Lohri' in Jan., and that contagious spree into the festive was lost..
the seasons first 'gazak'; the uncommon fruits and vegetables; the chips during holi season; the 'prasad'- transcending the long queues; the eggs for the omelet; depositing the monthly bills; the first mangoes in summer no matter how expensive they were- he had to bring it for the satisfaction of giving that smile to his family....
..the gift of converation he had- to make anyone feel at ease in his company- no matter how big or small....
..the eventful evenings when i use to make three cups of tea- and me , mum n papaji- all drank together- sharing talks..and the amazing laughter that fills each corner of home with a nice vibe...the stories from his past- the office he worked at and the officers who really liked him...friends, colleagues, new pension plans of govt., ...or just random things of the daily lives....the favourites were the fascinating stories of the years he spent in Canada, the mere mention of the foreign land lights up his eyes..
...and how he wished to be there for treatment....
.
his favorite songs---whenever they are played on t.v, Mum tells- "ye song Papaji ko bahut achcha lagta tha.."...like- 'suhana safar aur ye mausam haseen...'...which he use to hum at times, in all happy moods..!
'tu pyaar ka saagar hai..' that i use to play on the laptop and he hums it along- now whenever i listen- the eyes get misty with each phrase...
the diaries, papers kept around the home with his signature or something of his handwritten note- his closet of clothes and treasure of tiny belongings of his- that fragrance of Lux soap whenever he use to come out of bathing, the Ponds talc he used...the bicycle, his bed and the chair outside he use to sit on the lonely long noons and read newspaper......telling- that's he's just here...playing the game of invisibility....
the pakistan connection he was- being born in 'Multan', city across the border- fascinating it feels to listen to stories before the division..
..the Punjabi blood he sowed in the generations ahead--- proud it feels to be half a Punjabi, they are the coolest, funn-est, cheerful-est breed......!
..nowadays....at times when i get all frustrated of this 'nothingness' phase- thinking how tough is to pass the moments waiting for someone's arrival, or something to happen and still keeping oneself occupied with work till the goodbyes from the earth....learning to live each day to its fullest....
Most of the childhood i had with him- riding me back from school on the cycle, buying me the snacks on the way- and even at times when Ma-Pa use to be busy with work- he had been to the "Parents day" at my school, everyone knew he's my Nanaji...
..and when i was very small sneaking into his quilt for sometime after dinner at night and pursuing to tell a story- the one with little dog in it and sometimes the 'three little naughty boys' one...in the initial days it was some glitch of brain that it took me some time to understand who he really was- as all around i knew of only Mother Father and siblings- and to grandparents no one ever say- "Papaji", its either Nanaji or Dadaji...that tiny brain neither knew to form a question to ask or to have an own logical view- just kept patience for the future to bring in the understanding- and it did, unfolding the wondrous relation!
Didnt had much of time spent with any of the other grandparent- neither did had a chance to see them in this life....
that's what made him even more special.....!!
Also we shared our Birthday months- Special September- and just two days apart...!
and days before we use to think what we will do-- though never did much of special things happened- yet that excitement was enough to spread the happy vibes around!
...
..there will be years to come with that same feeling trying to embrace and will be left with a missing thought each september....the twenty first...!!
...regrets and guilts envelope at times- for the moments when i was bad with him- when i didnt listened to him and disrespected him.....
..when we needed him he was always there and the time when he needed to see us the most we were all so far away...
...mistaken of the high hopes he always had for life, and the cruel fangs of illness and discarding to listen the inner voice....realizations that hit too late..
...the new fears that develop- fear of doctors who cheat- how much injustice they do to such a noble profession....
....the memories tend to become distant with time, i wish to pen down all of them to be close to him....and be inspired.......
Much Missed...Remembered...Respected..Loved.....Each Day.... and forever........
.
.
..and far there from behind the clouds we know you will be seeing us and smiling....telling us each time when we go sad-- "arey..khush raha karo bachchon..." ...spreading the light of love, as his name is 'Love' (Prem Prakash..)
I somehow was trying to carry on the conversation without letting the mist flow out, to shout out--- "Papaji aap ka phone hai...koi Khurana uncle ka.."...and he would have so excitedly came and recieved the call...and with all his smiles and laughters he might have came, taking the receiver- and would have said-- "Helloooo...Namastey Khurana Sahab...aur kya haal chaal hain aap ke..?..badey din baad phone kiya...."..........
...fumbling with words, I informed the tragic loss and that person was shocked said- "Bhambri ji ki baat kar rha hun mei.."...."kafi din se baat nai hui thi, maine socha phone hi kar lu.."...he thought he might have dialled the wrong number....i said- "nai uncle number toh thek hai...."...
.......par Bhambhri ji ka address change ho gaya hai..... :'
...and such instances makes you feel that he's just there- invisible- just right there where he always is...
still alive in memories- the places- more then memories- not even the whole of the city constituting his friends knew completely about it...
that night- a month later his birthday- and he wished us Goodbye.
I thought of posting a lot many times before- but waited for the scars to heal- its been a few months now- and as i write it, the mist is all floating in the vision...and the fleeting memories....
Many a times the instances happen during the daily household chores that reminds of him....
the cylinder delivery person- whenever he comes he always misses him and praise his goodness..
the neighbourhood people who all sit together in the park in the evenings and have hearty laughters and energetic talks...that whole area seems lost of its energy...the evenings are all silent for the senior group...
..the sundays arent anymore like they use to be- when we all remain at home- and he use to go long way to sabzi mandi to get the week stock of vegetables...
the festivals arent that much joyous- there came 'Lohri' in Jan., and that contagious spree into the festive was lost..
the seasons first 'gazak'; the uncommon fruits and vegetables; the chips during holi season; the 'prasad'- transcending the long queues; the eggs for the omelet; depositing the monthly bills; the first mangoes in summer no matter how expensive they were- he had to bring it for the satisfaction of giving that smile to his family....
..the gift of converation he had- to make anyone feel at ease in his company- no matter how big or small....
..the eventful evenings when i use to make three cups of tea- and me , mum n papaji- all drank together- sharing talks..and the amazing laughter that fills each corner of home with a nice vibe...the stories from his past- the office he worked at and the officers who really liked him...friends, colleagues, new pension plans of govt., ...or just random things of the daily lives....the favourites were the fascinating stories of the years he spent in Canada, the mere mention of the foreign land lights up his eyes..
...and how he wished to be there for treatment....
.
his favorite songs---whenever they are played on t.v, Mum tells- "ye song Papaji ko bahut achcha lagta tha.."...like- 'suhana safar aur ye mausam haseen...'...which he use to hum at times, in all happy moods..!
'tu pyaar ka saagar hai..' that i use to play on the laptop and he hums it along- now whenever i listen- the eyes get misty with each phrase...
the diaries, papers kept around the home with his signature or something of his handwritten note- his closet of clothes and treasure of tiny belongings of his- that fragrance of Lux soap whenever he use to come out of bathing, the Ponds talc he used...the bicycle, his bed and the chair outside he use to sit on the lonely long noons and read newspaper......telling- that's he's just here...playing the game of invisibility....
the pakistan connection he was- being born in 'Multan', city across the border- fascinating it feels to listen to stories before the division..
..the Punjabi blood he sowed in the generations ahead--- proud it feels to be half a Punjabi, they are the coolest, funn-est, cheerful-est breed......!
..nowadays....at times when i get all frustrated of this 'nothingness' phase- thinking how tough is to pass the moments waiting for someone's arrival, or something to happen and still keeping oneself occupied with work till the goodbyes from the earth....learning to live each day to its fullest....
Most of the childhood i had with him- riding me back from school on the cycle, buying me the snacks on the way- and even at times when Ma-Pa use to be busy with work- he had been to the "Parents day" at my school, everyone knew he's my Nanaji...
..and when i was very small sneaking into his quilt for sometime after dinner at night and pursuing to tell a story- the one with little dog in it and sometimes the 'three little naughty boys' one...in the initial days it was some glitch of brain that it took me some time to understand who he really was- as all around i knew of only Mother Father and siblings- and to grandparents no one ever say- "Papaji", its either Nanaji or Dadaji...that tiny brain neither knew to form a question to ask or to have an own logical view- just kept patience for the future to bring in the understanding- and it did, unfolding the wondrous relation!
Didnt had much of time spent with any of the other grandparent- neither did had a chance to see them in this life....
that's what made him even more special.....!!
Also we shared our Birthday months- Special September- and just two days apart...!
and days before we use to think what we will do-- though never did much of special things happened- yet that excitement was enough to spread the happy vibes around!
...
..there will be years to come with that same feeling trying to embrace and will be left with a missing thought each september....the twenty first...!!
...regrets and guilts envelope at times- for the moments when i was bad with him- when i didnt listened to him and disrespected him.....
..when we needed him he was always there and the time when he needed to see us the most we were all so far away...
...mistaken of the high hopes he always had for life, and the cruel fangs of illness and discarding to listen the inner voice....realizations that hit too late..
...the new fears that develop- fear of doctors who cheat- how much injustice they do to such a noble profession....
....the memories tend to become distant with time, i wish to pen down all of them to be close to him....and be inspired.......
Much Missed...Remembered...Respected..Loved.....Each Day.... and forever........
.
.
..and far there from behind the clouds we know you will be seeing us and smiling....telling us each time when we go sad-- "arey..khush raha karo bachchon..." ...spreading the light of love, as his name is 'Love' (Prem Prakash..)
soooo nostalgic.... loved this post .. loved your feelings for nana ji ... simply superbb
ReplyDeletethanks :)
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