20 December 2009

Chhoto

We lost Chhoto a week back. How can I describe this gentle giant? To the conventional world, he was a very unconventional person, didn't fit into any shoulds. In our family, and to each one of us, Chhoto was very special. His was always pride of place, and for all his life, he was the life and soul of our family. Always, it was Chhoto first, no matter what. He always had a smile, and though he did not say anything, whenever he saw you, there would be a small light in his eyes to tell you that he knew you were around. If you extended your hand to shake hands with him, Chhoto would put his whole fist into your hand - that was the extent of his trust. What can I say about him? He loved Western Classical music, western pop and Rock 'n Roll, continental cuisine, goodies, cricket, and good English programs, and he hated, and would walk away from a room which had any other kind of music, or if there was anything that he did not like on the television. He would suffer Indian food quietly and sometimes not so quietly, unless it was special food! He would sit silently and serenely in a family gathering and let everyone's conversations swirl all around him. He needed to be looked after, but he remembered all the timings for his medicines, meals and bedtime. In case his nurse forgot one of these, he would go to the dining table, where he knew his medicines were kept, and he had his meals, or wash room, or bedroom and gently remind her and us that it was time...if you put a picture puzzle or blocks in front of him, he would put the right pieces in the right slots, or arrange the bricks the right way. And, then, and this was the best part, he would walk away as much as to say ' what do you think? I can't do it?'. If he was outside, and a plane flew overhead, he would turn his head and follow its path. If he wanted to go out, he would just unbolt or unlatch the door, and go out and take a stroll...happiness to be out in nature. If, for some reason, anyone was down, or angry, or tense, one just had to see Chhoto, and be with him, to feel right again, to feel responsible again for oneself, though his own pain or anger or tension he would have to sort out himself, because he couldn't express it. If you were lucky, you would be able to see him smile and sometimes laugh in his sleep. We knew the angels were playing with him! We, mainly Ma, could only surmise his pain or suffering. On the route of his usual walk, this gentle giant was loved by everyone. You couldn't help loving Chhoto - he just looked so sweet. As in life, so when he passed on, he was no trouble for anyone. He didn't leave behind any pieces that the family would have to pick up and put together, and he passed on on a weekend, disturbing no one's routine. He hasn't even left behind a vacuum, because he is there, very alive in all our hearts. All he has left behind is his sweet smile, and his gentle presence.

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Why is it so difficult just to get a place in the sun? why do we have to scramble so hard to get that place? why after we finally get it, do we have to strive even harder to keep that tiny, little place to ourselves?