Yesterday I wrote my thoughts on Anne Frank’s diary. Reading that book was tough, but in many ways, Anne Frank and her ideas, her life, they inspired me. Earlier, I shared a vignette of Paulo Coelho’s that inspires me. What to say, I’m a bookworm. A lot of good things come out of a book with patience. Another reason is that I find it hard to write about a person in my life who inspires me, possibly because he has had it just as tough. Maybe what I write might not be enough, might not be complete.
The person who inspires me is my grandfather, “Muthassan” or “Mutthu” as I fondly call him. My gramps is a strong character. He’s damn adamant and has an ego taller than a skyscraper. God, the times he and my dad get into an argument and it feels like there won’t be any resolution at all! I wonder why he’s such. But other than this, he has a lot of nice qualities that I admire. He’s gentle and loving, as every grandfather is. He’s a bundle of energy, very active and involved with what he does. He’s fun.
The reason why he inspires me is that he’s been in two major motor accidents in his life, both when I was a child, and both when I was near him. The first happened so long ago, that the details are a bit blurry. I remember mom telling me about it later; that my grandparents and I were in an autorickshaw, when a cycle came in the way and the auto toppled. My grandma and I weren’t hurt much, but my grandfather hurt his hand badly. I didn’t remember that, but he fought to recover and continued to be as active as ever. I still recollect the days when he would drop my sister and me to school on his moped. If he felt pain, he didn’t show it. He didn’t tell us. He took care of us, pampered us like anything. I remember the second accident much more clearly… the three of us on that moped, and fate getting yet another bicycle in the way, and toppling down on the main road. I remember sitting on the pavement, my sister close to me and hoping that all be well. We both had scratches from the fall. He, alas, fell on the same hand that was hurt in the old accident. He had to have surgery, and put a plate in. I remember being afraid to go to his hospital room.
Even after the second time, he fought on. He continued to be that bundle of energy that we knew him to be. He still continues to do so. He’s been through illnesses, he’s had that hand injured again, but nothing seems to deter him. He doesn’t look too far into the future, he lives for the day. He smiles, laughs out loud, fights a lot with my grandma, sometimes irritates the neighbors (and maybe even me). But he’s my gramps. I can’t stay irritated at him for long. I wish he continues to stay that way, undeterred by the obstacles that life throws at him. Only he can be that way, be my grand gramps.
(6th March, 2014)