Enchantment of aimless writing..

I started blogging here in December 2009. This was always supposed to be my private space where I would vent, and think aloud, and try to make sense of things. This was also supposed to be my writing gym. I was never a regular but I kept writing on and off. 2009 seems like a different epoch. It seems so distant. I was so different. I had just finished my university. I was trying to figure out what to make of my life- what to do with it. Civil Service looked like an obvious answer. In 2025 today, with 12 years into the service, what was an obvious answer has turned into a vexing question. Grateful for many good things along the way, nonetheless. Loving family and amazing children. Meanwhile, I have kept writing. Not here so regularly. But I have been journaling on and off. I also started another blog and wrote a few entries related to my experiences in the civil service. My current job has kept me really busy. I have been meeting one deadline after another and havnt had the leisure to write aimlessly, something I used to do in these pages and something I have always cherished so much. So- on this rare lazy Saturday morning - I chose to rediscover the enchantment of aimless writing. And to check in on my writing abilities, to ascertain the extent of atrophy in the age of AI assistance. But I think I am doing fine which is also because I have kept up my reading. Perhaps not as much or as frequently as I would have liked,  but just enough to not be totally lost. So, while I may have changed since 2009 and the pragmatic concerns of adulting have taken over, I do feel, and hope, that the basic essence of that idealistic spark still reside somewhere in the heart, and in the eyes.

My opinion piece in 'The News'

https://www.thenews.com.pk/print/1128744-the-job-begins-with-measurement

Smart Phones are changing us

I had disappeared from these pages because my job in field as Assistant Commissioner kept me really busy. I had continued voicing my inner demons in my personal diary which I kept writing whenever the noise inside my head was too loud. These days, though, I am on Eid break and don't have much to do so during my routine walk in the evening, I thought back to this space. I recalled how it was almost a decade ago that I had started writing here. Since then of course the digital landscape has 'metamorphosed' or 'metastasized' (take your pick) into something else. My page was a personal cathartic space which is also why I had never advertised it and most of my entries were personal and not some pontification or analysis on social, political issues. 

Today, I have returned to my page after a long time. Now when I think about it, I guess this is so because I wanted a 'digital' escape from the social media frenzy. Smart technology is doing something to us and we don't realise it. Somebody needs to work on this. This is truly a momentous event in the history of mankind. These smartphones in our hands which moonlight as high-power cameras have truly been habit-forming inventions and how they are changing human behaviours is something we need a thorough study on. My hunch is that this smart little device has far reaching implications and I am not just talking about the usual overused buzzwords such as 'Communication Revolution' or 'Information Age'. I am not even talking about the contradiction of 'loneliness & depression' in the increasingly wired world which is a very serious implication in itself. I think I am referring to something even deeper. It is doing something to human behaviour at a profound level. It is changing our concept of time. It is certainly changing our conception of knowledge. It is changing who we are and what we become. I don't want this to come off as apocalyptic because I don't really know for sure what all it implies. But again, my hunch is that all is not well and we need rigorous scientific studies and research papers on this. I am sure they exist to some extent somewhere. I haven't been able to find them as yet. Be that as it may, we need to take notice of what is happening to us and study this phenomenon in a rigorous scientific manner. 

Initial impressions in the field

I used to think I would write my diary of Field training days. I have not been able to do that. But since I have started blogging again, I might as well put down some of my observations here before I forget them. My initial impressions after a few months in the field are quite sobering. The reality of governance is far more complicated than what the textbooks would have us believe. Every thing takes place in a particular political context. Also, there is only so much that a "one good man" can achieve since the issues are systemic and the response has to be institutional. Even the best of minds would find themselves constrained in this environment. And trust me, I have seen some brilliant minds in the public sector but they seem to have been held back by the inertia in the system. Yes I know all the lofty talk about how great enterprising minds carry the capacity to break the inertia and shake up things a little but it isn't all that easy. There is no time, no time in the field at least, for any of that. So much is happening so fast that all one ends up doing is 'fire-fighting' and not much thought is given to any substantial reengineering of the processes. Hence, the vicious cycle.

P.S. Some housing societies here in Gujranwala do not pay tax/duty on internal transfers of property. When the administration presses them, ironically that's when our sub-registrars get their transfer orders. Thank you ! 

Back to blogging ?

Ok so where to begin !

I have been away for a long, long time. I cannot pick up the thread from where I left because so much has happened in the meantime. So quick update : Circuit House Gujranwala is my new abode because yours truly is Assistant Commissioner (Under Trainee) here.  To be honest, I missed you. Those were simpler times when I would blog away my angst and insecurities. Every once in a while, I would review a book I had read. But then life happened and somehow, I stopped finding time for blogging. I was busy writing script of my own life or so I would like to believe. In the past four years that I have been away from blogging, I read less and wrote even lesser. I clearly seem to have lost the knack of writing. So forgive my broken disjointed lines today. My field training has given me the foretaste of what my job entails. It means less and less time for reading and writing. It means wading knee-deep(even neck-deep) through the muck of slow-moving government machinery. It also means putting in long hours of hard work trying to somehow strike balance between high expectations and low resources and even lower autonomy.Wait a minute ! Hold on ! Why is this beginning to sound like a complaint letter of a dissatisfied employee. This was my "dream-job" and it has not even started and I am just anticipating and I should not be so impatient. But you cannot blame me entirely. It has not been a good start. Just a couple of months into field training and I lost my first boss to very tragic circumstances of suicide. And then there is also this initial rude awakening after seeing the gap between theory of our youthful idealism and the complexities of everyday practical realities. I am ending this blog abruptly because I am finally feeling somewhat drowsy. This seems to work. Every time I cannot sleep, I will take to blogging.

Good Night 

P.S. Did I mention that these District Utships tend to be quite a lonely experience even if you are not in a distant district and even if you are not alone.  

To 'THE SILVER LINING' 2014

PIONEERING 'THE SILVER LINING'

“A small group of thoughtful people could change the world.                                             

 Indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.” - Margaret Mead

Our world in those days was NED.  More precisely, it was Civil Engineering Department. We owned it and wanted to make it a better place. We were young. We were crazy. We were restless. We had infinite energy and exuberance. We had obstinate optimism. We had fresh ideas. We had all of it and much more. But what we did not have was time. We were in our final year and the clock was ticking on it. It was then that we first had an inkling of a possibility of pioneering an exclusive magazine of Civil Engineering Department. Other departments had their own and were quite boastful about it. And it of course tickled our youthful pride. “How could our department, our world, lag behind?” asked our collective angst. However, it wasn’t just blind rage or the hurt pride alone. The idea to launch a magazine was also the product in part of a particular wave of nostalgia that sweeps over a final year student. The season of farewell in the final year brings with itself the matters of legacy and longing. In establishing the magazine we also saw an opportunity to not only relive and recapitulate the time spent at campus but also to etch our cries and murmurs and our hopes and aspirations forever into history.  

Hence, this idea was born around mid May, 2009, during casual discussion among our group of friends inside the classroom of B.E, Section-B.  We were a group of seven friends who initially mused about it. However, since it was an idea whose time had come, we soon had the entire department behind us. And thus began the hectic, at times hysteric, preparation of the first ever magazine. It is not easy to end the inertia and blaze a trail. It is one thing to envisage an idea and quite another to materialize it. Practical issues like finding sponsors amidst the milieu of recession and quality content amidst the tons of submitted articles were only a few of the many challenges we faced. The endless hours spent in front of a computer screen dealing with the minutiae of graphic design and the frequent visits to publisher made sure that we got as little time to give to our studies as possible. Nonetheless, we were driven by a strange youthful faith in the possibility of whatever we dream. There is something about the years at university which makes you a ‘yea-sayer’ as opposed to naysayer. And this is why we named our magazine ‘The Silver Living’ with the subtitle of ‘Building Hope’.

Nothing gives us more pleasure than knowing that the seed we planted many years ago has now grown into a beautiful tree, watered over the years by those who came after us. The tradition has been continued with the same vitality. All of us who have ever been part of ‘The Silver Lining’ since its inception in 2009 are bound together by that same spirit underlying the original idea. And I can assure you that this mix of a little craziness and confidence, defiance and diligence is going to take you places and you are going to do great things in life.

But remember to keep the flame of ‘The Silver Lining’ burning. Don’t let it be snuffed out, ever.

  

It begins to shed...

 

And it begins to shed.

Everything;

Exuberance, Idealism, self-assuredness, and even hair.

And you realize that it is that time in your life,

when;

You are neither too old nor too young,

Neither a failure nor a success,

Neither inspiring nor inspired.

And it continues to shed.

Everything;

Patience, anticipation, self-esteem and even hair.

And you realize that it is that time in your life,

When;

Promises have already come apart,

Metaphors have lost all meaning,

Spring is just a season,

Dawn is the name of newspaper only,

And when the wait is over and the ‘Godot’ didn’t arrive.

27th

So it was my 27th birthday yesterday. I mark my birthday by writing a blog about it. I have been doing it since past few years so it has become kind of a tradition.  Last year, my 27th, has easily been the liveliest and the busiest for me. It brought an end to the prolonged fossilization. It opened a window into a different world, accompanied by a welter of experiences. Yet, I am not going to write much about it. Do not feel like it. Yesterday, on my birthday that is, I finished reading a book by voltaire. It is his classic 'Candide'. Its message, moral, can be summed up in its character Martin's following lines: 

"We must work without arguing. That is the only way to make life bearable."

These lines ring very true at this point in time in my life. Thus, on my 27th birthday, I adopt these lines as my motto and move forward.

CTP has ended...

CTP is over. I could not write here during my stay at CSA. It is a happening place and one does not get the leisure to take to blogging. CSA has thrown my way a welter of experiences. I find it hard, however, to crystallize them into a coherent blog. Too many  images cascade in front of my eyes when I look back at the not-so-distant days of my Common Training Programme. Country Study Tour and Military Attachment can be argued to be the highlights of the training. And yet, one cannot detract from the everyday experiences at the academy ranging from extension lectures and debates, presentations, syndicate work and community work to cultural nights, club activities and sporting events. And moreover, the hostel is a world unto itself and its range of experiences often borders on craziness.  To cut a long and interesting story short and dull, for I seem to have lost the knack of keep writing effortlessly, suffice it to say that they don't lie when they say, "ONE LIFE, ONE CTP" 

Notes from CSA, Lahore

So here we are. It has been really long since I last wrote here. And I had already intimated about it here in my last posts. The last time I wrote here I was in Karachi and living a different life. Now, I am in Lahore and with a different kind of existence. So much has happened in the intervening past month and there is so much to write home about. And yet, lo and behold, I have not been able to do so. What a pity!

CSA

The schedule here at CSA is a very hectic one. Unnecessarily hectic. CSA is supposed to groom civil servants for the future. But, at times, it feels that there is too much emphasis on the form and too little on substance.A lot of time is spent on trivialities. Nevertheless, there is a lot to learn for a person like me who has not had a very wide range of exposure in life as yet. One gets to meet different people from different backgrounds. One competes and co-operates with them. In such a milieu, one gets to learn about one's strengths and,more importantly, about one's limitations and weaknesses. So the process of learning is under way and, most of the time, at a subliminal level.

Lahore!

Lahore has also been a welcoming city. I have not been able to explore much as yet. Nonetheless, it has impressed me with whatever little I have seen, tasted and observed of Lahore. Lahore has retained its connection with the past. There is a strange, hoary feel to it. Having come from Karachi and having spent good last eight years there, juxtaposing karachi and lahore is inevitable. However, I must wait. I have a lot to explore in both cities to be able to come up with some reasonable comparison. Nevertheless, some observations are in order. The people here in lahore seem more kind and temperate and generous. Whereas, generally, the karachi dwellers are frustrated, angry and short-tempered. Perhaps it has to do with the condition of the city. Poor law and order,coupled with poor transportation and high population, has been the hallmark of city in the recent past which in turn seem to have defined the character of the city and its dwellers.  Lahore, on the other hand, can boast of a relatively good public transportation system and of course a better law and order condition, by far.

Got to go!

I got to go. But before I leave, I must admit that I have not been able to read anything. Yesterday I went to 'Readings' and bought books, a lot of them. I have also brought some eight books with me from karachi. As for studying them ,I don't think I am going to find some time here to do so. Moreover, there is this strange mantra in place here at CSA which says that we are here to enjoy and somehow reading books does not fall into this category. The unnecessarily hectic schedule at CSA too does not allow the probationer to engage in some pleasure reading. Speaking of books and reading, I must mention that I am part of literary club here at CSA and it will of course entail some reading and some writing. Hopefully. Let's see. Good bye till we meet again. Hopefully soon.

Shopping blues...

I have never been a shopping enthusiast. I am a reluctant shopper. Thus, when I was faced with a long and important shopping list for CSA, I hesitated. The past one month has been spent in this terrible task. It is not easy to shop despite the fact that I do not bargain nor window-shop. Although I have almost, yes almost, come to the end of buying, I am still reeling under the weariness caused by it. I do not know if you can relate to it or not, but most of the time,I would go to buy one thing and end up buying something else. On at least two occasions while I had set out to buy myself a few shirts and waistcoats, I came back with nothing but books worth rupees two thousand and three thousand. Besides, there are always these familiar woes of size and fitting and ,intriguingly, you realize them only at home and not at shop when the merchandise is being tried on. Thus, return and exchange follow. I am sure all shoppers must have been through it at one point or another. Or at least I hope it is not peculiar to me. Moreover, if the shopping is prolonged ,as it is in my case, there is an additional reason to feel frustrated. You buy one thing initially but after some time, while you are still working your way up the shopping list,you find its still better version. And you laugh a helpless laugh.

Intangible burdens

It is curious, isn't it? 

Burden of the intangible is invariably heavier. It is so perhaps because it has to do with the mind. Anything that weighs heavily on one's mind takes its toll. Yes, the mind is there to do the thinking. But when it does so ceaselessly, one feels burdened;burdened with the loads of disconnected thoughts and blurred images. How I wish I could tell my mind to switch off for a while, take some rest and begin anew, afresh later. But I know it would be futile. My mind is disobedient. It does not listen to its landlord. Hence, it continues to run. Which is also why I sleep late these days. One can't sleep when the mind is awake, alive and kicking( at times, it feels,even literally so)

 

 

P.S. I have been writing here after a hiatus. And the hiatuses may become more often in the coming days. Busy schedule will keep me from writing my blogs. Let's see.

Reason to smile

Today,I received a phone call from principal of the school where I had taught almost a year and a half back and that too for just two months.She called me today to know if I could join back. She also added that the students still remembered me and spoke highly of me. Obviously, I had to express my regrets for not being able to join back since I am leaving for CSA. Nonetheless, it felt good,really good, to know that one's work is being remembered fondly long after one has left. And yes, I had worked with my heart. It was my first ever job and I had given it everything.Which is why I was expecting to hear back from them. Hard work and sincerity of purpose are some of the basic virtues and when they are recognized, one feels good. Hence, sleeping tonight smilingly.

Good night.

Progress ?

Ever since I have taken to iphone, I have not been able to read any book. The last book I had read was almost a month ago and it was Beckett's famous play 'Waiting for Godot'. Iphone is a big distraction. True, it overwhelms one with a lot of information. The description of the world as a global village now seems a pre-iphone one. Today, the world is in one's pocket. Yet, there is a big flipside to it. In this flood of information, knowledge has gone missing. Knowledge is about connecting the dots. It is result of a slow, careful sifting of facts, perspectives, observations and experiences. In its absence, large trove of information made easily accessible to us by Wi-Fi connected smart phones is tantamount to the large collection of jig-saw puzzle pieces which refuse to come together to form a coherent picture. Of course, I am going to try and strike a balance. I am going to continue to make use of iphone to remain informed without allowing it to eat into too much of my time and hence prevent me from reading books.

 

P.S. Readying to go to Civil Services Academy for CTP. Preparations are under way, slowly but surely.    

Some disjointed notes

I am tired tonight which is a sort of good news.It means I'll be able to sleep forthwith.Of late, I have been remembering my childhood days more often. Few days back I dug out my album of childhood pictures and showed it to mom & dad.They were amused to see the different poses I had struck for photos & instructed me to keep them safe. Dad too showed me the pictures of his youth and seemed quite boastful about his handsome looks & flamboyance. To be fair to him, he had every reason to brag, for he did look quite impressive in those pictures from yore. I am teaching current affairs at Uqaips these days. I am doing rather well. The students seem to be enjoying the class.The jam-packed class is also helping me to further sharpen my articulation. I have begun to think of myself as an orator. I know this is an illusion. And like many illusions in the past, time will erode this one too. Meanwhile, I have found a familiar face from my childhood in the class at uqaips. I recognized him. The boy used to study in the same school as I. I was many years senior to him. But he now looked completely grown-up with a little stubble.He was a kid when I had last seen him and so was I. Time does fly...good night.

Long walk to freedom....

Mandela's autobiography "Long walk to freedom" is a long, lengthy book. Written mostly in a matter-of-fact manner, the book would not have been as captivating as it is, had it not been so important.Moreover, I might not have brought myself around the idea of reading the book, had it not been for the following two reasons:

One, Mandela is in hospital and, imminently, may breathe his last there. This is a sombre time to remember the man and pay him respects and tributes. Reading Mandela and, in doing so, walking that walk with him is my way of paying homage to the legend.

Two, it is Ramzan and I had the leisure and the quiet of the ramzan nights to be with Mandela, every night till sehri.

Mandela; the name itself has become a by-word for struggle, sacrifice, commitment, sagacity and magnanimity. When I became politically aware, Mandela had already fought his battles and won them, retired from active public life and assumed legendary status of mythical proportions.His name served us the purpose of a ready-example to be used in essays and speeches.His greatness was taken for granted and hence I never really bothered myself with as much as learning about the man behind the legend or his long, torturous journey. This is of course until I read "Long walk to freedom"

Mandela’s journey is not only a journey towards freedom but also towards greatness. His story makes it absolutely clear what it takes to be great in true sense of the word.  And it is not a walk in the park (pun intended). The long walk to freedom is full of supreme sacrifices. It is easy to read and watch the journey from the safe distance and feel awed, inspired and excited with adrenalin pumping and skin breaking into goose-bumps every now and then. It is different and unimaginably difficult, however, to live it. And that is what separates the ordinary from the great.  Mandela is great because he walked that walk unflinchingly and persistently despite innumerable sacrifices, dangers and hardships. What kept him going was not any tangible, concrete physical reality in front of him but an ideal which he could only imagine.

In Mandela’s own eternal words: 

• “During my lifetime I have dedicated myself to this struggle of the African people. I have fought against white domination and I have fought against black domination. I have cherished the ideal of a democratic and free society in which all persons live together in harmony and with equal opportunities. It is an ideal which I hope live for and to achieve. But if needs be, it is an ideal for which I am prepared to die”

His sacrifices alone are not what make him great. It is also his sagacity. At different stages of the struggle, it was primarily Mandela, along with some of his like-minded comrades, who adapted it to the changing times. Whether it was about turning ANC into a mass movement or forming a militant organisation or beginning the talks, Mandela always took the initiatives after judging the flow of circumstances and most often correctly. In this sense, Mandela comes across as someone who had his hand firmly placed on the pulse of time, a true sign of a great leader.

‘Long walk to freedom’ can also serve as a text-book and a guide for any freedom fighter. Mandela’s story in many ways represents the stories of freedom fighters treading the uncertain and unsafe path toward their cherished ideal of freedom.

Political prisoners will also find the book and especially its chapter (Robben Island: The dark years) very interesting and relevant.The chapter is obviously about his experiences at Island prison. However, it is also interspersed with many a musing and anecdote about jail life where getting an access to some of the basic things such as cigarettes, newspapers, proper food and clothing, books and information is an adventure unto itself.

In my view, ‘Long walk to freedom’ as opposed to many other autobiographies is not an exercise in self-praise and self-projection. It is honestly written without an attempt to hide and cover-up the inevitable low moments. Its primary purpose is what makes the book important as I mentioned in the beginning. It is to document in great detail one of the most glorious chapters of modern history and that too with the pen of its protagonist.

Also mentioned in the beginning is the fact that the book is mostly written in the matter-of-fact manner. However, it is interlarded with some reflections, truisms and anecdotes. In some passages, Mandela also waxes lyrical.

One example of such a passage is given below: 

• “I love playing with children and chatting with them; it has always been one of the things that make me feel most at peace.I enjoyed relaxing at home, reading quietly, taking in the sweet and savory smells emanating from pots boiling in the kitchen. But I was rarely at home to enjoy these things.”     

And quite befittingly, Mandela waxes lyrical about freedom in the final few pages of the book and I end with the same. 

• “No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.”  

• “…for to be free is not merely to cast off one’s chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others. The true test of our devotion to freedom is just beginning.”

My 26th birthday..

It is my 26th birthday today. No, I wouldn't react today in the manner I had reacted here two years back.

Instead, I will try and reflect on something more important. Although I am tired and don't feel like writing too much right now, the birthday must not be wasted and it must be marked with some introspection and reflection. After all, it is a milestone.Yet another year of life has ended and not without giving me some food for thought. 26 years are enough,perhaps more than enough,to learn a little about oneself and about one's place in the larger scheme of things. As for the former, I can say a thing and a half but the latter is still an unknown. Yes, it is such a pity that I don't really know what it is that I want from life. I realise that it doesn't suit a grown-up like me to talk in such terms. This crisis of purpose is best suited to someone in his early 20s.By the age of 26, one is supposed to have at least a fair idea of what it is that one has to do, if not already doing it. Thus, nothing to show for 26 years on this count. Nonetheless, it is not all that dismal and empty when it comes to getting to know oneself better. Here too, however, I have learnt more about what does not work for me than what actually does. Hitherto, I have always been waiting for the 'ideal' moment when everything will fall into its place. It looks obviously the wrong approach. Naturally, it never worked for me. Hence, a truism; Don't wait for things to happen.Make them happen.

I have learnt another lesson which is also no revelation and very obvious. It is at times very important to be able to say NO. Hence another truism; When you can't say yes, say NO.
While looking back, it has to be also said that I have not been able to do justice to my capabilities. True, I have won many admirers along the way and received many flattering accolades. Yet, it would not be off the mark to suggest that on many occasions I have let myself down. I need to repose more confidence and trust in myself, at least as much as others have in me.. Let's hope I learn from these lessons. 

P.S. Happy birthday to me :-)                  

Ramzan is under way...

Ramzan is under way. We had planned to go for Umrah for fifteen days. The visas took long to be issued and eventually we received a response in the negative.Owing to some construction work underway around Kabba, the process of issuing visas has been slowed down and the number, reduced. Thus, we are not going for Umrah anymore. I was not excited in the first place. I did not have the yearning. I am not a religious man nor am I spiritually too strong. Don't get me wrong. I am a believer. I am neither atheist nor agnostic. I believe quite strongly in His existence and in the unparalleled example of Prophet Muhammad's life (P.B.U.H) . It is just that I am not as yet a good Muslim, 'religiously' or ritualistically. Nonetheless, it is a work in progress. Thus, the denial of visa did not make any difference to me. However, for my parents, especially my mother, it was not that simple. Her eyes welled up with tears. Denial of visa was taken to mean the denial of His blessings and much more. God willing, their yearning will be answered soon and my parents will be able to feast their eyes on the holy sites of Mecca and Medina. As for me, I am too fixated on the here and now to think about the hereafter.Days go by mulling, and at times fretting, over how to do something worthwhile and about whether I am doing enough.It is a little jumble in my head. Clarity is missing. As a result of which I have taken recourse to books.I have realized that it helps. I am feeling much better. Thus, when in doubt, READ.

 Since it is ramzan, my nights are spent reading Mandela's 'Long walk to freedom'. It is a good time to be with Mandela as he fights his last battle.

 Viva Madiba... 

Monsoon of discontent ?!

There is something wrong somewhere.There is something missing.Or perhaps something is amiss. 

It wasn't supposed to be like this. It had promised to be different. I am living someone else's life. I am enacting someone else's role.What happened to mine? Whither my life?

It seems to be the case of what is called variously as "Midlife crisis", "Existential crisis", "Existential angst".

Call it whatever you may, the fact remains that it isn't an enviable feeling. It is 2.30 at night and while the whole family is fast asleep, I remain awake and write and give way to my discontent, for otherwise I would not have been able to sleep. 


P.S  A certain nagging feeling is tugging at my heart for past few weeks. It is a strange feeling, one of loss and being lost.

 

Ancestors, no more...

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.