A dream so vivid.

A dream so vivid,
Waking up with tear stained eyes.
My grandfather, or Kachou as I called him,
Looking on from the front seat of a Gypsy.

Having been paralysed for a long time,
His last years on earth had been spent on the front verandah,
Looking on like the stoic leader that he was, over the affairs of the house.

There was something surreal in seeing his familiar face,
So close by that I could almost reach out and touch.
Filling me with regret of the lost opportunities,
Oh how I wish I had spent more time,
Learning about the grandfather I loved so much.

For now, all that are left are a handful of old photographs,
Strewn in photo albums around the house.
No longer can I can be in the company of,
The old man who loved avocados and watching BBC.

Like any other person on earth, as a father and husband,
He had several shortcomings.
But flawless he was, as my grandfather.
He was, one of the few, if ever there was,
Who loved me unconditionally.

Having so little, and yet always ready to give,
Whether it be a few rupees or a candy or two,
He kept them in the front pocket of his shirt.
And everytime I would pass by,
He would conspiratorily call me to him,
And ask me to take them from his pocket.
Oh how I wish he was still around,
For us to love and cherish.

But such is life, that it is accompanied by death,
And if even there is a heaven above,
Kachou would be watching over us,
Like he would from the verandah.
Overseeing the activities of the house,
And scolding those who disobeyed.
And all one can hope,
Is that he knows how much he is missed and cherished.


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