And my paternal granny, hereinafter referred to as "daadi", passed away in the wee hours of June 2. Her death has come close on the heels of my maternal granny's demise,who is hereinafter referred to as "naani". "Daadi" had remained feeble and ill for quite some time. Her condition is said to have worsened irreversibly when she saw the face of my "naani" at her last rites. She was hospitalized soon after. She remained in the ICU and on ventilator for eight days and eventually breathed her last. She was around 90 years and hence died of old age.
The death of my grannies in such quick succession means that suddenly our ancestors are no more. My maternal grandfather had died even before I was born and my much beloved paternal grandfather "Baba" died in 2011. With the death of my grannies, the breed of "babas" and "amaas" have become extinct for us. Although the death at the "viable" and "die-able" age of 80s and 90s is not accompanied by the tragedy which is a natural concomitant of an untimely death, the resultant void is all too real and hard to fill.
There is a place for these old, wise ancestors in this fast, modern world. Their experiences and observations of the yore provide a useful insight into the ways of a bygone-world. Barring a few conversations with my "Baba" in which I tried to drink deep from his folk-wisdom, I had very little pleasure of striking long conversations with my ancestors. And now, they are no more.
May their souls rest in peace.
