the grief came in waves

we lost nana last week. and the grief comes in waves.

a shadow walked into the dark room at dawn that morning and said simply 'get dressed.' no more words needed.

the hospital had become a familiar space. we had fought to make the end as peaceful and painless for him as possible. i hope it was.

D and I set off by ourselves later that morning to buy flowers for the funeral.
desi gulab and mogra. (he would have approved.)
it was a beautiful sunday morning-sunny with a cool wind blowing through the flowering trees. delhi never looked quite so pretty before.

the walk to the phoolwala was quiet.
there was agonising grief trying to swim its way to peace.
i had lost that morning both a parent and a child.

and then, as if out of nowhere, came a cycle drawn tanga.
in the age of the noisy motorised bajaj auto, along rolled a lone cycle tanga.
on an empty road with artificial flowers on its steer and a quiet rhythm.
the sort (sans the flowers perhaps) that nana probably sat in often as a young man in purani dilli.

we had never sat in a cycle-tanga before and perhaps we never will again.
but the morning he went away, we went and bought him flowers in a cycle tanga with a cool wind blowing in our tear stained faces; fresh air mingling with fresh grief.

the line of cars and drivers were replaced by this retro ride for one morning. so like him to go on a sunday morning so that its convenient for everyone.
and so like him to wait until everyone had arrived. every last one of us. K on her easter break from england, Y as soon as his exams ended.

a massive old tree has fallen with nana's passing.
and with it a whole family orphaned that grew in its cool shade.