Days with Dadu

UHOO, UHOOOO, UHOOOOO. Dadu was coughing loudly. I ran to him with a glass of water. He gulped it and stared at me. “Thanks...uh...uhh...”

As usual, he had forgotten my name. But soon enough, he ruffled my hair, gave me a hug and called me Guddu.

Guddu, Babloo, Gullu... Dadu would always invent new names for me. I found them silly but still liked it.

“ Dadu is getting old. At that age, people tend to forget,” Ma explained.

***

Ma and Pa were very busy. They went to office after dropping me at school in the morning and didn’t come back until hours after I returned. I didn’t mind it too much. I also needed some freedom after the trying time at school! If Ma or Pa had been at home, I might have had another round of discipline imposed on me — “change into your home clothes”, “finish your food”, “do your homework”, “don’t watch so much TV”, “what are you doing on the computer?”

This way, when I got back, I did exactly what I wanted. Of course, our maid Selvi was always at home. But she didn’t really say much. She gave me my food and kept me company as I ate it in front of the TV in my school uniform!

Then Dadu came to live with us.

He and Dadi would usually come and stay with us for a month or two every year. They would get lots of presents and pamper me endlessly. I did lose some of my after-school freedom with Dadi, but I didn’t mind it for a limited period.

Then Dadi passed away and a few months after that Dadu shifted in with us. I didn’t feel very happy about it in the beginning.

My playroom — the empty room filled with my books and toys — became his room. All the things that I had stashed away in it came back into my room or were stored in spare places elsewhere in our house. Instead of sympathising with me, Ma said, “You have too many things. Don’t ask me for a new set of colours or more toys again!”

My belongings were replaced by a dull green steel almirah and an old study table and chair. Dadu also had a collection of books — encyclopaedias, biographies — that looked huge and intimidating.

My busy parents seemed to have become even busier. Earlier, they would spend time with me after they came back, but now some of that time went to Dadu. Even though I enjoyed my freedom, I still had lots of things to share with my parents when they returned. But now I had less time to share.

My home changed when Dadu came to live with us, and I took time adjusting to it.

***

With an adult family-member at home all the time, I thought I would lose my after-school independence. But my fears were unfounded. Dadu was not much of a disciplinarian. He enjoyed his freedom as much as I enjoyed mine.

When I came back, he was usually either sleeping or reading in his room. If he was awake, he popped out to check on me and say “hi!” but he didn’t disturb my routine. So I still sat and watched TV in my uniform, while eating.

After I had had my fill and was sufficiently relaxed, I would sit down to finish my homework. One of the first things I started doing with Dadu was homework. Earlier, when I was stuck with something, I had to wait for my parents to return. Now, I started asking Dadu. He was quite a smart old man! Reading all those fat books must have helped.

With his help I also won the annual Std IV essay competition. We had to write about a historical figure we admired and Dadu suggested writing about Theodore Roosevelt. I hadn’t even heard the name and was planning to do a quick job by writing about one of the historical figures mentioned in the textbook. But Dadu pulled out one of his fat books and told me about a sickly child who went on to become one of the greatest presidents of the US.

I was deeply inspired and started pestering Dadu for more such stories. He was a passionate storyteller. But I realised that he was most passionate when he spoke about men and women who had overcome great odds to achieve great things in their lives. He was not as enthusiastic when I tried to get him to read aloud some of my books.

“What’s all this magic and fantasy? Nonsensical stories with vanishing doors and giant dragons.”

Poor Dadu , he never discovered the joys of Harry Potter!

Dadu and I also started going to the neighbourhood park together. Earlier, after finishing my homework I would either watch some more TV or sit on the computer. But Dadu asked me to come with him and I didn’t want to refuse after all his help with my homework. Soon I began to enjoy the outing.

***

Within a few months, Dadu and I became thick as thieves. He never complained to my parents about my TV viewing and I didn’t tell them about his sweet tooth...

Dadu was not supposed to eat sweets. I had heard Pa telling him so. But he had decided to ignore this health advice.

Selvi made good food, but her coconut ladoos were a family favourite. Our home always had a tin full of them, and every evening Dadu would have one with his tea. Quite often he even had two. Our ladoos were getting over faster than ever. When Ma asked me, I told her about having them with Dadu in the evening. I didn’t tell her about his extra helpings. But Selvi must have let the cat out of the bag because, one day, Pa got into a big argument with Dadu over refraining from sweets.

“Can’t an old man even have his sweets? God knows how many more I can have,” Dadu thundered. And that was the end of the argument. Dadu sure knew how to get the better of my parents!

***

My only problem with Dadu was over watching TV after dinner.

Earlier, I had no one to compete with for after-dinner TV time. Ma watched a half-hour serial about a woman detective and Pa read the newspaper. But Dadu turned into a TV-hogging monster after dinner. He wanted to watch the news on Aaj Tak, then CNN, then BBC — till it was time to sleep. I asked him to let me watch after the Aaj Tak news. He nodded his head but ignored what I had said.

“Dadu, your news is over, now let me watch some TV.”

“But I still have to watch the news on CNN.”

“But I asked you to let me watch after the Aaj Tak news.”

“You watched TV all afternoon.”

“Because you were busy that time.”

“I wasn’t busy. I just thought that you needed some TV after school.”

After several arguments, we made an uneasy peace. I skipped some of my shows and Dadu let go of CNN. Neither of us wanted to get Ma and Pa involved in our internal matters!

***

Dadu was forgetful. He forgot names, he forgot to take his medicines, he forgot his spectacles everywhere he went, but no one said anything to him. They ignored it, reminded him or helped him find his things.

But once when I forgot my Maths homework, everyone scolded me!

“Sit and do your homework now! How can you forget?” Ma shouted, when she checked my school diary.

“Ma, Dadu forgets so many things. You never get angry with him.”

“Because he is Dadu. He’s old.”

“I’m also old. I just turned nine!”

“Don’t be silly. Just do your homework and go to bed,” she rolled her eyes.

But, Dadu’s forgetfulness only worsened. It was very funny sometimes. So funny that I thought he was just being naughty.

He would crush his roti, mix it with his dal, promptly forget about it and complain about not getting his rotis! Poor Selvi didn’t know what happened! When she finally caught him, he gave her his usual blank stare. She refused to get him more rotis and also complained to Ma. But no one scolded Dadu!

Once, when Ma was having another tirade, I thought of imitating Dadu’s blank stare. But that only made her more angry.

“Listen to me!” she shouted.

I thought getting old was so much fun. You could do what you wanted and no one said anything. Children were being scolded all the time! That is why I came to relish the moments when Dadu would get irritated and scold Pa. He liked Ma and usually refrained from saying anything to her. I wished he would scold her too!

***

Dadu’s growing forgetfulness had been a symptom of a far more serious health disorder. And his sweet tooth didn’t help. Three years after he moved in with us, his health worsened and, one day, he was rushed to the hospital.

He stayed in the hospital for two weeks. I missed him terribly. Sometimes I even sobbed thinking what might happen if he never returned. Who would I come back home to? Who would take out the time to tell me about the Roosevelts of the world and go for walks with me?

And one day, when I returned from school, I found him lying down in his room. He had been waiting for me. I hugged him tightly, not wanting to let go.

“Ok, ok, leave me now, otherwise I will suffocate.”

“I was scared that you’ll never come back.”

“You do know that I’m getting old...”

I did know that Dadu was old, but I didn’t want my days with Dadu to ever end.

Megha Aggarwal’ s picture book for children aged five and above, tentatively titled Let’s Play House-House, is set to be published by Tulika this year

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