2nd February 2004 changed all our lives forever. One minute I was in school and the next I was attending my grandfather's funeral. His death came as a shock to us, as he was so active. He was still going for his morning walks, driving his car and shopping for groceries. His last meal was a biryani at a cousin's wedding, which he thoroughly enjoyed and then the chest pain began. I wasn't physically present for his final moments and that's something which will crush me forever.
He was more of a friend than a grandfather. If he had any grandfatherly instincts, he showed very little of it. He got viciously bullied by his grandkids and he bullied back with full fervour. He slept all day and stayed awake at night, like an owl. But his eyes would pop open, the minute he heard the Baywatch theme on TV, however sleep deprived he was.
He had his weekly quota of scotch or whiskey along with salty fried peanuts, which he hid very meticulously from me. But I always found his stash hidden deep beneath his clothes. On one particular Sunday, he discovered an empty jar of peanuts and instead of scolding me, he threw his glass of liquor on my face. I was shocked at first, then I viciously pulled his neatly gelled hair in rebuttal.
Before ammumma could lay out the table for lunch, appuppan and I would step out and eat a Kalavara burger, Sharjah shake or medu vada from the road. She would be furious as we didn't have an appetite for lunch.
We had a mild water shortage problem, as our house was built atop the hills, Dhalavakunnu hill to be exact. So Appuppan's idea of conserving water, was to pee in the bushes. There was one particular tree that faced the brunt of his ideology and it died in no time. His explanation was that he was providing it with nutritious ammonia filled fertilizer.
When we had the occasional house guest, he wouldn't budge from his rocking chair. He left the socializing to his wife. Perhaps, I take after him, because even I hesitate to talk to strangers. His driving skills were far from extraordinary. He drove his car, like it was an autorickshaw, recklessly and without concern for pedestrians and other cars on the road. On one of these escapades, he scraped the car against a relative's vehicle, that was parked outside their house. My sister and I yelped from the backseat, but appuppan assured us that no one had noticed what we did.
We drove back home with utter confidence, only to discover the aforementioned relative's car parked in our driveway. The rest as they say is history. Fireworks blew all night, as my grandmother gave him a shelling of a lifetime. We almost got away with our crime, unfortunately ours was the only car in Trivandrum which had a distinct maroon paint, towards the bottom. The paint scraped off on the relative's car, which blew our cover.
17 years have passed, since he passed away, but these memories are still so fresh in my mind. I'll always be Captain P Thyagarajan's granddaughter first and then come all the other relationships in my life. I feel so heartbroken that my husband, my son and even my sibling's spouses and children, didn't have a chance to ever meet him. He was one of a kind. A diamond in the rough. I can't wait to meet him in the afterlife.
