Time is a strange thing. It crawls when you want it to fly, and flies when you want to hold on to it. When I looked at the young woman on my screen, it was tough imagining her as anything other than the little girl, with her bobbing ponytails, shining eyes and irrepressible laugh. From the time when she had been a toddler and used to say, ‘Don’t be sad paati’, when I mock cried if she didn’t listen to me, to her soft and musical ‘Paati’, when she video chats today, it has been too fleeting a journey of her childhood.

Where did the time go? Couldn’t I just wind it back a few years, maybe, to savour some of the precious moments I had missed with her?

‘How old are you, paati?’ she asked the other day when we were video chatting. When I told her, she smiled. ‘70 is a nice age, well rounded!’ Nothing about her paati having grown so old — just a positive observation. That is my Diya for you! Always warm, always thoughtful.

Come to think of it, my age has been fascinating to her, ever since she was a toddler. Once, we were playing some game when she suddenly asked, ‘Paati, when will you become 100 years old?’

Typical of kids that age, she had forgotten the question before I could think of a reply! Over the next few years, my age vacillated between 10 and three. And finally came the question and her approval, just some days back.

Will she have some thoughts about my advancing age in the coming years? I do hope so. I would miss it, if she doesn’t.

Don’t look for a chronological sequence, since I will narrate incidents as they pop up in my head.

Her grandparents — all four of them couldn’t have been more different from each other, and she instinctively knew how to give them and herself have a great time with each one of them. And when all of us were together, she knew too, that she could give everyone a good time by being the centre of attraction. Because, for all our differences, we had one thing in common — we adored our granddaughter. So there would be musical shows, quizzes and more. When she was about eight, she held a ‘grandfathers’ quiz’. The result? A tie! For her, all her grandparents were special and equal. No favourites there.

I had written about our holiday at a farmhouse during our visit there, when she got excited looking at the fireplace and the winged armchair near it. She dragged me to it, made me drape a shawl over my shoulders and wear my glasses. ‘Now speak grandma!’ she bade me.

Our Skype sessions had merited a post too. Being born into a world of gadgets, she was adept at using them, but alas, her grandparents couldn’t manage it as well. When her mother told her to go easy on us, she asserted, ‘They have to learn, Amma!’ She never tired of being our tutor in so many things. A gadget generation baby, she has taught me many things about using my WhatsApp, in addition to other things too. But her favourite pupil has always been her Jabbu thatha, * But her favourite pupil has always been her Jabbu thatha,** you will presently know why.

One little incident sticks in my memory. It was after WhatsApp video chats had begun. She had dropped her phone behind her bed. She told me to hang on, while she ran to get her father. And after he helped her get it out, she asked me anxiously, ‘What were you doing in the dark, Paati?’ To her mind, her paati was in the phone and so was in the dark — literally — having fallen behind the bed!

Even at three, she knew what would cheer her paati, who was ill. I had written about the bottle of water with a pink cap, which she had insisted on buying for me. ‘Pati will love the pink cap’, she had apparently firmly told her thatha.

She has been interested in different things at different ages. We would get a taste of her latest obsession when we got to spend time with her, either in India or UK. From stuffed toys and Lego to TV shows and books, her interests were varied and vast. I am happy to say that as she grew older, we had come to talk about the same books we both had read, including the Harry Potter series, as she grew up. (In case you didn’t know, my favourite genres are children’s and YA books).

Her fascination with the My Little Pony series lasted the longest, I think. We watched the episodes with her when we were there, but I am sure her thatha would have gladly missed them had he but known the ordeal he would have to face a couple of years later! I will come to that presently.

The Pony phase was memorable for two incidents, a few years apart. The first one was when we visited them. She was about eight at that time. She liked to take us on ‘walks’ in her neighbourhood, showing us various sights and scenes, including her ‘Secret Garden’ – a secluded nook in the park, with a tiny stream strewn with rocks and some colourful blooms.

One day she didn’t take us to the park. Instead, looking a little secretive, she led us to the High Street, and to a specific shop near the bus stop that sold magazines, snacks, stationery and more.  ‘Shall we go inside?’ she asked innocently. Once inside, she pretended to nonchalantly search the magazine rack, but the little girl in her couldn’t hide her glee when she found the latest issue of the Pony magazine – the sole reason for the walk that day, it transpired!

The other incident was a couple of years later when she visited us. Still in love with her Pony characters, she decided to get her thatha, her favourite student, to memorise the names of all the characters. She wrote them down, taught him the order in which he should recite the names, and how to pronounce each one. He was to be tested a couple of days later. The poor man conscientiously memorised them, struggling with the order and the pronunciation. She was a hard taskmaster, not making any concessions, refusing to give clues when he pleaded, insisting he got them all correct, or go back and do it all over again!

It was during that visit too, that she held quiz shows for both of us, somehow making sure that we tied for the winning spot, and then giving us both ‘prizes’!

Her thatha’s student days had begun during one visit when she was barely five. He was her favourite student who meekly obeyed all her orders, pretending to be ignorant and acting silly. That day, she tried teaching him some shlokas. It was heartwarming to see him gamely ‘learning’, making ‘mistakes’, so that she could bossily correct him. There was one shloka which she refused to teach him though, insisting that it was too difficult for him. What a laugh we all had!

But when it came to teaching her paati things, she would merely say, ‘Never mind Paati!’ — her diplomatic way of telling me that it was beyond my level of comprehension!

I could go on and on about all the little memories tucked away in the recesses of my heart, but it will be too long a post. Come down memory lane with me, click and read all the links I have shared — with nostalgia and love — lots of love.

Bye, bye little one! Welcome gorgeous (almost) young woman! Looking forward to creating more sweet memories in the coming years.

Jabbu thatha** — We were in Jabalpur when she was born. So, to distinguish between the two thathas, her mother came up with the prefix Jabbu. It soon became a term of endearment and sometimes it is just ‘Jabbu’, especially when she refers to the said thatha! There was no confusion with paati, because she called her maternal grandmother Avva.

Read linked posts here:

https://cybernag.in/2018/06/02/touching-across-continents-thank-you-skype/

https://cybernag.in/2011/06/29/of-milestones/

https://cybernag.in/2015/07/20/a-bagful-of-treasures/

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