I looked at the lake outside my hotel window and felt a breeze so soothing it took me back to the time I saw a lake for the first time. I might have been 9 or 10 when I visited my grandparents for the summer holidays. My routine was always the same: wake up, eat breakfast, play with the dogs, help my grandfather arrange his shelves, eat the delicious lunch my grandmother prepared, then go for walks, and without one knowing, it would already become night.
One windy day, my grandfather, who I called Popa, decided that we would go see the sunset from the nearby field. With full excitement, I agreed without thinking that the wind was blowing with such strength that it could blow me easily. We wore our jackets, and Popa carried a bag with some fruit juice, snacks, and a torchlight that, in my head, I thought could light one entire ground in one flash. Little did I know what was going on in the mind of the jolly old man carrying food with all the joy he had.
As we walked around the paths that covered the area with coconut trees and wheat fields, I remember skipping with joy because of the change in my everyday routine. Whenever I spent time with Popa, he told me that there are things we should enjoy and not take for granted and be present. I never understood what he meant those days. I was the eldest son and also the first grandchild. My Popa told me about the day I was born and how chaotic yet beautiful the day was. Apparently, on my day of birth, my grandparents had reached the hospital even before my parents, and when we went back home with me, the house was all messed up by the dogs. Yet, there was joy and only happiness, said my Popa.
The path seemed long, and I saw no proper field to look at the sunset from. The wind gushed so strong that my hair had gone all dusty. I looked at my grandfather, and he looked at me and said, “It’s a whole new story now, isn’t it?” I looked at him, baffled, and then he stopped walking, took a right turn, and started walking through bushes. I only followed without any questions. I could feel the excitement my grandfather had through his pace as it kept getting faster. For someone who was in his sixties, he sure had the agility to walk fast.
– Christina K Sangma