We all love our grandparents, don't we?
Of course they love us too.
No matter how scale-tipping fat you are, for your beloved Granma, you'll always be the skinny kid who needs fattening up.
No matter how many terrible mistakes you make, you will always be the apple of their eye.
They will slather you with unprecedented bear hugs and when you win the spell bee in class, they will tell you how proud they are and how you will grow up to be super successful and of course, how much they love you.
Yes, grandparents are irritating at times, but we sure love them. After all, who else will save us from the glaring eyes of our angry parents in times of need?
The fact that I'll be stepping into adulthood in mere two year's time, maybe explains why I find tears welling up in my eyes whenever I think of my grandparents leaving me, the thought itself is so horrifying that I can't even bring myself to write it. Maybe I'm not the only one.
All my grandparents occupy equal space in my heart, but I'm most attached to my paternal grandma (I call her dadi, in fact most Indian kids do.)
I have literally grown up with my dadi since I was born.
She is the most creative, patient and talented person I've ever come across. She has sacrificed so much in life, coming from a well-off family but giving up schooling to marry at a young age and then living in a completely alien city to raise her sons. She is an amazing homemaker and cook and will never say no to anything. I still remember completing school projects with her late in the night when I was a toddler. I never remembered to do my project till Sunday night, and since mom and dad would be angry with me, I would always run to dadi. She was never the impatient, spur-of -the moment type, and that is something I still admire about her. She would meticulously dish out fantastic handmade projects, while my only contribution would be to sit and stare in awe. She is great at stitching and weaving too, all my cute customised baby clothes are proof.
But I love her most for believing in me. No matter how stupid insane or outrageous my ideas or dreams were (and still are) she believed, and believes. In a country where engineering and medical fields are the only career options, she taught me to think different. I owe my cooking skills solely to her and even my writing skills are what they are today partially because of her, after all she read all my amateur writing attempts with a straight face and motivated me to write more.
I love you dadi. You are amazing awesome admirable.