dear thatha
when i had come to delhi for diwali last year in november, i had spent a day with you and pati. you were sitting at the table after we finished lunch and i had just walked in to get myself a glass of water. you called out to me and sat me down and asked me what i was doing. every time i would come back from bombay, you’d ask me whether i finished college or not. this question was a constant since the last 2 years… ever since i’d finished college. everytime i’d tell you that i’ve finished and that i’m working now. :)
this time you sat me down and asked my how my work was going. there was a zillion watt smile in my head when you asked me that. right after that you asked me what work i was doing and i spent the next (nearly) one hour explaining to you what film editing is. to the extent that i remember telling you the difference in documentary film and fiction film editing and working with video and actual film. it scared me a little that day how you asked me the same questions every five minutes, not remembering that i’d just explained the same to you just a while back.
my earliest memory of you was of playing chess with you in the munirka house where you would overlook the silly moves made in haste by a silly 8 year old girl. you would take a long while to think what best way to elongate the game and humour my childish eagerness and constant ‘play quickly or resign’ chants. and there when we sat at the table that day, you looked at me with your big child-like eyes laughingly apologising for not being able to keep track of things very easily since you’d grown very old and requesting me to bear with your repeated questions.
when i had come to delhi on the 9th of jan this year, i wondered that when i would meet you in the hospital would you ask me whether i finished college or would you inquire about my work. but the one time that i could speak to you, you thought i was batch and gave me a big hug and a kiss on either cheek as soon as you saw me. i was a little upset, but when mama told you that it was me, sruti, the smile in your eyes seemed to double up and i got a bigger, tighter hug from you. everyone always says that i look like batch and that i’m exactly like her. i remembered how you’d always mistake me for batch when i’d speak to you in tamil over the phone. i tried my best not to cry in front of you that day and succeeded for the longest time, till you pointed to my nose piercing and with whatever words you could manage, asked me whether it was new.
in all your days at the hospital, that moment was when i wanted you back home with me the most. i wanted to play carrom with you, the way we used to, where you and i would be in the same team and try to beat everyone else. i wanted to play my guitar and sing for you after, of course, printing the lyrics out for you and giving you a 5 minute long summary for each song. i wanted to hear you sing gibberish while imitating MS mockingly with a mischievous look in your eyes just to make me laugh.
you always had a very subtle way of showing your affection. when i would sleep in between you and pati, you would always sleep on my right. as was my habit, i would turn towards my left and sleep which invariably would mean that my back would be facing you. everytime, as soon as i would turn to my left, you would put a little bit of your quilt on me and that would always mean that i had to face you and sleep. and so it was. everytime.
i slept next to pati before i left for bombay on the 26th of jan. my back was facing the side where you lie down. i stayed awake for a very long time, waiting for you to put the quilt on me. i wanted to turn back and see you smiling back at me. i waited… and i hugged pati and slept that night.
