Nanu.
( Written shortly after losing my grandfather )
Photograph of my grandfather’s name outside his house
Imagine yourself looking at your feet on a beautiful bed of grass, your toes curling up into the mud, the slight tickle-massage of earth on the soles of what keeps you standing tall.
Now imagine that while you look at your feet, the grass is ripped out from under them, and the mud no longer held by grass crumbles inwards into the earth and you fall deep deep deep into a pit that seems not to have a place to land. This happens so quickly that you don’t have time to blink, to even think for a moment, what just happened?
When you lose someone that held you, that nurtured you and fed you, that grew you, I imagine that’s how it feels.
~
I lost my Nanu on the 5th of May 2018. My mother lost her father. To her, he represented the nurture and unconditional love of a mother. And it’s to him that I dedicate this small piece of writing near mother’s day.
~
To watch my mother grieve the loss of the one person that unconditionally cherished her is painful in a place I didn’t know existed in my body. Normally, when I’m upset, I know where I feel the pain - a block in my throat, an ache in my chest, tight shoulders. Yet this soft steady pain I can’t locate.
You see, losing him is for her what losing her would be to me. And even the slightest hint at that thought makes it difficult to breathe.
Once breath is suspended so is awareness.
Photograph of my mother
Photograph of my mother & sister
The intensity of my own sadness at losing Nanu is something I was quite honestly surprised by. I loved him dearly but had spent very little time with him over the course of my life. I realised after his passing that I knew him just barely.
The many stories of his life shared over comforting cups of never-ending chai and the McVities Digestive biscuits that had been bought for him in bulk painted a life so full of joy that those who shared the stories couldn’t help but laugh and those who listened could barely wait to join in.
A decision was made to celebrate his playful spirit and banter became how the family grieved.
Jokes took a morbid dark turn.
In the car on the way to waters with Nanu’s ashes and bones, Mumma’s brother turned to say, ' 'Look, Simi! - Bone Restructuring Center - how about we hit them up at the reception with Papa’s bones saying hey, restructure this!’
'I want some popcorn please', said Mumma to Papa who was standing at a stall to buy masala peanuts. She then turned to face my brother, my sister and I with a grin on her face to say, 'You know, since I’ve just lost my pops...'
Both his children, childish unbridled laughter. Just like him.
Photograph of my family
In the spirit of Nanu I’ll end this post by writing a little about his spirit.
If all that is now left of him is his spirit - and it roams free in the world without a body for reigns holding it back - Wow! What a beauty! Look at it flowing free in the wind, twirling, swirling, dancing, singing, giggling…
Nanu chose happiness and whatever little of his life I have known has shown me that happiness lies all around us, we just need to open our hearts to it. Nanu made choices that suited his being, unconventional for his time - he ran away from home at the tender age of twelve, joined the army, renounced his filthy rich family, donated his lands, married my Nani who was at the time considered too old to be an eligible bachelorette. He protected and loved his daughter more than anything, encouraged her athlete nature, cooked for her and her friends, graciously accepted her choice to marry a Hindu, celebrated little things, encouraged playful arguments and loved without boundaries.
All this without philosophising. I don’t think Nanu applied any mantras to his life - he never preached any bullshit like think positive, live in the moment (as if living in any other were even a possibility), always be kind etc. etc. and yet he effortlessly embodied all of them. I think he did just perceived what was necessary, did that and it was always enough.
I imagine that his spirit would roam mantra-less as well, whatever that could mean for spirits. If regular spirits visit their families and check up on them, I imagine Nanu’s spirit floating free on his way to Nagaland, flirting with trees, befriending snakes as he soars up high into boundless skies.
mohini
