Dadaji: In Memoriam

12309746_10153650607650664_1614810049133160073_oYesterday, while most of the nation mourned the martyrdom of Lance Naik Hanamanthappa K and his nine brave colleagues, and others played politics per usual, our family grieved the death of another soldier: my grandfather, Lt. Col. Badan Singh; a veteran of the second World War, a weaver of magical anecdotes, a man with a most colourful disposition. He was 97 years old, with all his teeth intact and not a denture in sight, and a repository of tales and legends only a nonagenarian could be.

Like in most relationships, ours had its ups and downs. His temper was legendary and I was no featherweight myself. It was only natural, therefore, that we had our share of run-ins, singeing loved ones and not-so-loved ones in the wake of our disagreements.

And yet, as the skin around his eyes softened in to a collection of lines, his personality mellowed too. In the man I had thought to be cast in iron, I found softened indents ready for a proverbial tickle. Little nudges made stories spring, insistent prodding brought forth sagas: of his days in a Rangoon hospital during WWII where he was being treated for malaria and the matron who admonished him for his refusal to eat, of my sister sneaking in to his room as a four-year-old in Chandigarh to bribe him with her pout for kulfis in the afternoon.

1091738_10151797257740664_692681815_oIn the last few decades he lost his sight to glaucoma and the hearing in his left ear. What he didn’t lose though was a vigour for life. He didn’t trudge through his nineties, he strode through them with his back upright, even after being confined to a wheelchair. He stuck to his dictum of eating breakfast like a king, lunch like a peasant and dinner like a pauper to the last. He remained committed to fitness throughout his life. In fact, in his last few years, incapable as he was of walking like he used to, he’d lie back on his bed and cycle in position, even on the day of his last hospitalization this past Tuesday.

IMG_8458He was a proud man, made most proud by his children and theirs in turn. He was sharp as a tack, keeping his radio by his side at all times, listening to the news and music and refusing to let the impact of age affect the quality of his mind. So much so that my sister and I would be nervous of being caught off-guard when he asked us for our opinions on the state of things; the spectrum of his interests ranging from the American elections to Kohli’s performance in the last one-day international India had played.

As I shouldered the weight of his stretcher on its final journey to the pyre, I felt a stream of tears make its way down my reddened cheeks; the weight of realizing that our conversations were now at an end felt heavier than him. With his life lived and his journey complete, he was now headed to that unknown place of after. And as I saw the flames engulf the stillness of my grandfather, I could only think of how much richer that place would be, now that he was there.

Goodbye, go well.


6 thoughts on “Dadaji: In Memoriam

  1. So beautifully written – it captures the depth and essence of this wonderful relationship between two separate generations, between Ayesha and her Dada ji. My father was strict with his own children, for reasons that we all understood – to get on in life, one had to be strong – but he mellowed down once he was conversing/meeting his grandchildren. This was a completely different and softer side of his personality. Even though loss of vision hampered him, his mental faculties were razor sharp; he never forgot any grand child’s birthday, nor what they were up to. Latter had exhorted him to score a century in age, but alas that was not to be. Dad, we miss you – you will always be in our memory. ‘Bon voyage’ on that journey to the kind embrace of the Almighty – you deserved it.

    • I met Late Col Badan Singh first time some time in 1979 and was completely taken over by his personality. When ever we met after that, we had good conversation. Very inspiring person he was. In relation he was my “Saddhoo ” too and also from the same village as my mother-in -law. Closeness with family increased even further when I met all his sons and daughters and got to know them all very closely. Great family indeed. Time changed, paths diverted and meetings became fewer and fewer. Last time I met him was in Rohtak where we both were paying homage to a close relative on his sad demise. Col Badan Singh was bodily quite frail at that time. I could see my own future old age ( if at all I live that long) . May Gold bless His soul with all His love.

      Hope all are doing well in family.

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