Name series pt 6 : To you, Dadaji

Back when time was still as water
And moments were not flying birds
On their journey,
I wish I hath spent more time with
Thee ;
Now there's nothing left other than
Remembrance, for the ashes have
Left this world and evaporated in
Another land of harmony and peace ;
Only the memories are there,
Vibrant as though they're a series of
Framed painting — never ageing.

I look at the pictures of you, present
In my phone.
There is so much I can write yet
Memories are an ineffable blur —
All that is left is shadowy flowers.
Yesterday was the day of you, your
Birthday.
Had you been still here, alive like
Flowers, you would've been an aged
Tulip - not talked much of; its beauty
There in the background, ever
Glowing.

I remember,
From the records I can recall that you
Were a lover of English poetry —
Something I excel at.
Had you been here, I would have
Gifted my works, my creations to
You.
Allow you to be the appreciator;
My muse, a subject of my art.

I do not remember the first time we
Truly met, I cannot recall the melody
O’ meeting you as I wasn't there and
I was too young : a sapling in the
Process of growing; not a full bodied
Red rose yet.
What I do remember in my memory
As clear as glass is that you had silver
Hair.
Silver - snowy hair ;
Sharp - studious - analytical eyes.
Eyes that would not miss a single
Thing, even if  they put on an act of
Not knowing, they knew everything.
Nothing stayed hidden from them.
Though the furniture - brown eyes
Were silent, they were reflective :
You could not lie to them.
They with a single glance could make
You spill truths, your doings & faith.
They harnessed that power and
Perhaps that power flowed in my
Dad, who's the same, not exact though - you can never touch the originality.
You can aspire but wanting to be gold
& Being gold are two different things.
His eyes don't possess the same;
They're thoughtful.

He had a round - smooth face ; a face
Like that of the sun : always there to
Cherish and support in times of
Mirth and darkness.
He was a fierce, independent man
That never sought Infront of anyone.
He was a king,
A charismatic king that had qualities
Of lion and sun in him :
Power to lead and never give up.

He would not allow anyone to touch
His plate.
Even in frail old age, even when he
Could no longer walk — his pace
Slow & steady like snail,
He would keep his utensils himself.
And oh! He loved having mithai with
His chai and reading newspapers in
The light of his pedestal lamp.
One thing he & I share in common is
That both of us are intolerant of fools.
He was a man of his words and words
Had value for him.
He could not tolerate gibberish &
Garbage.
He was a man of strong morals and he
Abided by a set of unshakable
Principles.
He was disciplined and never strayed
From his work.
This coupled with his abilities, kept
Him moving like river.
In difficult times too, he was always a
River; never a rock.
And I see that quality in my dad,
Who is unique in his own way but
His carbon - copy nonetheless.

Happy birthday to you!
Even though you're no longer here,
You're always there in my heart as
Long as it goes on.
Its time to put the pen down and
Pause the record, for, I must go.
I hope wherever you’re,
You’re thinking of me, like I'm of
You.
Happy birthday!
Until we meet again,
Adieu.

On my Dadaji (grandfather in Hindi)
Written on his birthday.

-Ridhima Joshi