Hey there!
You’ve just clicked on this chapter, and honestly, I don’t care if you’ve read my other posts or not. But this one? I need you to read it. Seriously. Stick with me until the very last word—there’s something meaningful waiting for you at the end, something that just might change your life. Who knows?
okay, Let me take you on a little detour to introduce someone truly special. Drumroll, please... the senior-most and wisest (well, sometimes!) member of our family. Respect is mandatory, folks—he's the OG of our clan, the boss of my boss, my dad’s boss. Meet Ganesh, my sweet, charming grandpa.
Well, guys, before we dive in—how are you all doing today? Hope everything’s great!
Now, let’s talk about the senior in our family—though, honestly, he’s young at heart. He was born in Tiruvannamalai, Tamil Nadu, India, the same historic town where I was born too. I believe he was born in 1947, a year every Indian knows as monumental. As of today, he’s a sprightly 78-year-old youngster.
He’s the proud father of five children, and something to be noted, guys—he has only one wife! My beautiful grandma, Cinthamani, who’s 75 years old and the heart of our family. They’ve been together for decades, sharing a bond that’s nothing short of inspirational.
Fun fact: they’ve been together since childhood! Back in the day, families lived in joint households, so they practically grew up side by side—a stark contrast to today, where just living with grandparents feels like a “joint family.” (Lol, how times have changed!)
Oh, and here’s another fun tidbit—they’re blood relatives! It was pretty common back then for cousins to marry, and they tied the knot at a very young age. Through all these years, they’ve stayed side by side, building a life and a legacy together. Isn’t that amazing?
Okay, I don’t want to waste your time, but let me tell you this—I love my grandpa like anyone would, but my bond with him is something special. Before we moved to Chennai, I spent more time with him than with my parents. While all his other grandchildren moved away for various reasons, I stayed back in our little hometown, and he became my everything.
During my primary schooling days, he was my partner in crime. He’d drop me off at school and pick me up every day. Whatever I did, he was always there to back me up. Once, as a mischievous kid, I accidentally hit him with a small steel rod while playing. The mark is still on his hand, a reminder of how hard I must’ve hit him. But even then, he didn’t scold me. Instead, he protected me from everyone else’s anger. That’s the kind of person he is—always putting me first.
Life was simple back then—school, grandpa, my little sister, grandma, mom, and the beautiful small village we called home. My dad worked in Chennai to provide for us, but Grandpa made sure I never missed anything. I still have vivid memories of him buying me snacks every day, even though he had very little money himself.
There’s one incident that will always stay with me. I fell ill while staying at my uncle’s house. Grandpa, being my constant companion, was with me. He thought it was just a mild fever, but when we visited the doctor, they said it was more serious and I needed a stomach scan. Now, this wasn’t the digital payments era. Getting cash on short notice wasn’t easy. Without hesitation, he pledged his wedding ring for ₹800 to pay for the scan. That ring was something he had worn since his marriage, and I had never seen him without it.When my parents and grandma found out, they scolded him for giving up something so precious. But that’s just who he is—selfless, loving, and always putting his family above all else.
And then the day arrived—I had to move to Chennai for my education, and my father got a better job as well. It was hard, but it had to happen. Life took a turn, and for the first time, my grandparents started visiting us like guests. Funny how time changes, right?
Whenever they visited Chennai, my grandpa couldn’t just sit at home. He’d come to pick me up from school, always arriving at least 30 minutes early. I still remember the joy of seeing him waiting at the gate as a surprise. The moment I spotted him, I’d run toward him, shouting, “Thathaa!” (Grandpa). He’d greet me with his signature warm smile and, as always, buy us a bunch of snacks on the way back.
Sometimes, my mom would tell me, “Grandpa’s coming home tomorrow,” and I’d immediately beg my parents to let me skip school that day. Even when I did go, all I could think about was my grandpa picking me up later, and I’d count down the minutes until the last bell rang. The months my grandparents stayed with us were pure joy. My sister and I would fight over who got to sleep next to him, and, in the end, he’d always end up in the middle, with both of us snuggled beside him. Those moments were filled with laughter, comfort, and so much love.Ah, those days—they’re still so vivid in my mind like they just happened yesterday!
THE DAY!
It was December 1st, 2016. My parents, along with the entire family, had planned a double celebration at our home in our village—a housewarming ceremony for the home my grandpa had been building for the past year, fulfilling his lifelong dream of owning a house in the place he had lived since childhood. Along with this, there was a grand surprise: a 60th wedding anniversary celebration for my grandparents. In our tradition, this second wedding is a special way to honor their love and togetherness when one of the couple reaches their 60s. The festivities were set to take place on December 3rd.
My parents, my sister, my elder brother, and I started our journey to our hometown that evening. Other family members were set to arrive either that night or the next day. That evening, we first stopped at my maternal grandfather’s house for dinner. My parents planned to stay there for the night, but we three—my brother, sister, and I—had other plans.
We secretly called our grandpa, who lived in a nearby village and asked him to pick us up. We wanted to surprise him and spend the night with our grandparents. The moment he heard from us, he didn’t hesitate. Within 10 minutes, he arrived on his trusted TVS 50 bike, braving the late-night cold.
On the ride back, something felt different. Grandpa was unusually quiet. I even teased him, saying, “Thatha, why are you so serious? Aren’t you happy we’re here?” He just smiled softly, but now, thinking back, that smile carried something deeper.When we reached home, he asked my brother to put the stand on the bike while he went inside. Everything seemed fine. We surprised my grandma, who was overjoyed to see us. But after about ten minutes, she suddenly asked, “Where is he?”
We rushed outside and found him coughing severely. We didn’t know it was a sign of a heart attack. My grandma realized it immediately, and we later understood he had been in pain even before picking us up. Despite everything, he drove us home safely. That was just who he was—selfless and loving, always putting us first.
Even as he was about to be taken to the hospital, his focus was on us. My brother had unknowingly worn his slippers, and when he handed them back, Grandpa simply said, “There’s another pair in the corner; just keep those for yourself.” He then asked my grandma to come closer and requested some water.
We had planned to surprise him, but in the end, he surprised us all. His legacy, his love, and his spirit remain eternal, etched into every fiber of our being.
So, guys, I can’t just say it was fate that he left us. There’s a hard truth behind it, and I need you to stay with me for this part. My grandpa had a habit—one that slowly but surely took him away from us. He smoked cigarettes heavily and occasionally drank alcohol. While he was the most lovable, respectful, calm, and sweet member of our family, this one habit, inherited from his father or friends, became his undoing.
I still remember those days when he would light a cigarette in front of me and say, “Don’t tell anyone, and I’ll buy you snacks.” Back then, I only saw the snacks; I didn’t see the slow poison taking my grandpa away from me, bit by bit. I didn’t understand what I was losing, and I wish I had.
If only I had spoken up, told my parents, or done something—anything—to stop him. These thoughts haunt me to this day. The guilt of not acting, of not protecting him from himself, weighs heavy on my heart. Many nights, I cried not just because he left us, but because I felt I failed him.
To everyone reading this: you might have a "Ganesan" in your home, someone you love deeply. Or you might even be that "Ganesan" to someone else. Please, I beg you—don’t let tobacco or alcohol steal you or your loved ones away. Take care of them while they’re with you, not when it’s too late. Cherish every moment, because love is not just about memories—it’s about making sure those memories last longer.
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