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In a family, things aren't always what they seem to be. Such is this story where a secret, guided by love, saved a life!
In a family, things aren’t always what they seem to be. Such is this story where a secret, guided by love, saved a life!
Deaths are sad, very sad, but they are also meant to bridge the gap which was there for a decade.
As a family, we loved to eat together, sing old songs together, drink together, sleep together. The best is the summer vacation when we used to get an opportunity of getting creative on our hands, or I must say I enfold my creative side by doing all the work of my 8 cousins.
Yes, our crazy family of almost 23 people used to live together. My grandfather married twice: hence had 7 kids. Years passed, everyone got married and had their own families. Yet we used to live like one.
The question of having separate gas burners was never an idea for us, yet there are many families every month splitting in our neighbourhood. My grandparents had kept all of us together.
It was June 2008, I was in 9th grade, and had just created a functional model of a windmill. I was very excited. I ran to my younger uncle’s room who wasn’t there. I ran to Bittu chacha’s room straight but he wasn’t there also. I thought they both were out somewhere so I ran to Kamlesh Chacha’s room, and I didn’t find him.
I got a little irritated as my excitement knew no bounds. I wanted to show my project to my beloved uncles as soon as possible. I ran to the fields, and saw that all three of them were talking loudly as if there will be bloodshed in the next 15 minutes. I wanted to go near but before I could step a pace “there was a gunshot”.
Everything was silent. I was almost deaf, and more than that, I was numb. Then I gathered myself and ran towards my grandfather. He was laid on the ground. He was shot in his head and died on the spot. It was Makhija who was after our family to give up our ancestor’s piece of land which my grandparents aren’t willing to. All my uncles were ready to accept the proposal as they thought it wasn’t good to mess with this political triumph who has not only great connections but also he is the power in our village.
I lost my parents just after a year of my birth. Honestly, I can just see their photos hanging in our house. It was my uncles and my grandparents who never let me feel like an orphan.
Dadaji’s death was a big stroke for our family. No one talked to each other, and even my grandmother blamed my uncles for my grandfather’s death. I shared my grandmother’s room.
Today is my grandmother’s 70 birthday, and I am also turning 25. Growing up I have gotten the features of my mother. My mother was indeed the most beautiful angel on this earth, but I couldn’t compete in that way. But suddenly, my grandmother was behaving weirdly. She was rolling rosary a little faster, as if she was having an anxiety attack – silver water pearls were rolling by the side of her neck!
Was it a heart attack?
No, that can’t happen! First I lost my parents, then grandfather, and now on grandpa’s birthday, dadi is having a heart attack!
God can’t be so cruel.
My dadi called me before I could raise my voice to summon anyone. I could feel the somnolent air but she said, you are here with us because your grandfather isn’t with us.
I was amazed…
What is she saying?
She loved dadaji a lot, she used to worship him every day!
It wasn’t Makhija who shot your dada. I took advantage of his fight with Makhija. You were almost sold to Makhija by your dada, even after your uncles were vexed about it. Bittu was raged about his decision but your Dadaji never listened to anyone. His love was just a whimsical presentation. He always considered you a bad omen who took his children away from him. I couldn’t see him doing this to you, so I shot him that day.
I almost lost everything that day even after knowing that my dadi has lost more than me. I’m a gift to myself by her.
Image source: https://www.startribune.com/friends-across-generations/474633993/
A passionate scribbler and wishful bread earner. A working professional in an embassy and a freelancer French language trainer. A voracious reader and loves to connect readers and writers. Author of Ibiza by Geetika Kaura ( read more...
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