Toronto Diary- Hey, Dadaji ...

" Hey, Dadaji, who shall I play with when you go back to India?" gushed little Viplav as he burst upon me. Viplav is my gusty little grandson. He is about seven and a half year old and is always hovering around me. I pushed the book I was reading aside and looked at him. He seemed to be really perturbed. Downstairs, his mother had told him about our going back to India. Feeling really worried that my affectionate lap would be snatched from him, he rushed to me upstairs in my room and bombarded me with a barrage of questions. Innocent questions, but they pierced my heart like arrows. 

" Who would capture me when you go away?" he asked with his big worried eyes fixed on me. 'Capturing ' was a game we -- grandfather and grandson -- played so furiously. He would jump on to my lap and I would 'capture' him in a firm grip out of which he would fiercely struggle to escape. This game was played a dozen times a day. He would wrestle with me and try to slip out of my stranglehold while I pretended to hold him tight. All others in the family would look at this wrestling with great amusement: some cheered him, while others would hail me to hold him tight. 

Sometimes, Viplav -- I prefer to call him Chunnu, or alternatively, Mr Parrot, for he is so talkative -- would climb my shoulders and then,rising precariously, he would slide over my head and then hang loosely on my tummy. He would then crack a farty joke and then laugh uproariously, while his mother scolded him.I would also pretend to be angry but his hilarity would dilute all my loud protests. If I tell him that he is a grown- up boy now, pat would come the reply that he is still a kid. If I tell him that he is a little child, he would vehemently protest: No, I am an ex- child. Sometimes, he claims he is a half- child and half- man! As we marvel at his innovative use of language, he happily starts jumping overhis very friendly pet , Dylan. 

Viplav, with his hyper imaginative mind is apt in inventing words beyond our wildest imagination, yet they seem so remarkably appropriate. For his child's imagination, I am Mr Bear. My bulk always fascinates him.He pats my big tummy, laughs merrily and teases me,calling me mirthfully " Mr Bear, Mr Bear!" To him, his grandmother is Miss Mouse. On occasions, when he is in a mischievous mood, he would teasingly call her Miss Rat. Thus, his frolics have been the cause of much merriment for all of us.Sometimes, when he is in a really frolicsome mood, he would lie on her, tickle her and when she pushes him, he would turn towards me complaining, " Hey, Dadaji your wife , this Miss Mouse, is harassing me". " Be nice to me, Miss Mouse," he would shout at her with glinting eyes. 

So, standing on the edge of the bed and jumping furiously, he suddenly stops, and looks into my eyes and asks:

Hey, Dadaji , if you go away, who would take me to the play- park? Who would stop me from dangerously sliding down or running around on the skating rink? Who would take me to the tennis- court? Who would give me a bite from his sandwich? Who would stop me from watching my dinosaurs show? Who would scold me when I don't write in a straight line? Who would protect me if Daddy is mad at me?

The list of questions was unending. And I found that I had no answers to offer. Finding me pensive, Viplav became serious. Putting his little finger to his chin, he put on his thinking hat and said:" Let us think." I also put my finger to my chin and said, "Yes, let us think." After a short while, he again said," Who I shall play hide and seek with after you go? Who will go to drop me at the school? Who will hold my hand in the Walmart so that I don't get lost in the crowd? Who will hug me and kiss me and tickle me? Who? Tell me, who will love me? Who will tell me stories?" It is another thing that when I start telling him a story, he would high jack it and start giving it new turns and twists. He went on with his questions: Who will do puja with? On whose tummy will lie lie and poo- poo?" His attention was now diverted to his Dadi Ma on whose lap he would sit while she performed her puja,or with whom he would frolic while she took a nap on the couch. 

I sat speechless; I was overwhelmed with his innocent questions. Questions coming straight from his pristine heart. Questions asked with unadulterated passion. Questions to which I didn't have an answer. 

" I will miss you, Dadaji. And I will miss Dadi Ma too." Choked with emotion, I hugged him, clasping him to my heart. " I shall also miss you, my sweetheart", I gushed. He also hugged me with great passion returning my bear- hug. 

We sat like that for what seemed like an eternity. Then, suddenly he said," Ok, let us organise a goodbye party for you." With that the somber mood gave way to bantering. " Who will come to the party?",I asked. " Daddy, Mom, you and Dadi Ma,"he said, "and Dylan. And all my toys." " And what will be the menu?" I asked. " Candies, chocolates,coffee and cookies", pat came the reply. 

I smiled with a pang of emotions searing my heart. Going away is always so difficult. But more difficult, if it involves going away from the little one who is so dear and so endearing.And this little clown who effortlessly can don the roles of a Superman, a teacher, a garbageman, a magician, an explorer,even a public orator,is such a little dear! We will miss you, Viplav, our sweet heart. 

All of us love our children, even if they are grownup. However according to a local proverb : मूल से सूद प्यारा होता है. We had heard it so many times over the course of our life, but, for the first time, the essence and full meaning of this saying dawned on us. This little powerhouse has,during our six month stay, enveloped our being , our whole existence. Now, life without him will be so colourless and empty. 

We will miss you, Chunnu, dearest . Yes, we will MISS YOU .❤️❤️

P.S. I take this opportunity to wish you and your whole family a very happy DIWALI😃

😊😊