Grief, more than love, brings us together

My grandmother, who was taken ill, was in the ICU. We admitted her to the hospital as she exhibited symptoms of breathlessness. I can’t fathom how many days have passed since the night, or if it has been only a few hours. Hospitals could be a strange place to be in — time travels slower than ever, yet life flashes before your eyes in seconds.

I was 10 when my grandfather passed away and my parents decided that it was time for me to sleep with dadi in her room, so she wouldn’t feel lonely. I was young but suffused with a sense of responsibility. The night was spent listening to stories from her and light spells of sleep. That’s how my camaraderie with her began. Soon after, my younger sister grew up and we became a gang of three — eating, sleeping and laughing together.

A few years later, the need for personal space had us separate our room from dadi, but our friendship with her was stronger than ever. From first-day-first-show movies to cooking late at night with us, she became a company we never could have found in our parents.

When women her age were going to temples and singing paeans in the praise of God, she was watching Veer Zaara for the 50th time, learning the dialogues by heart. Our family would agree in a heartbeat that all humour and sarcasm has been bestowed upon us from the genes that come from her. My friends would often refer to her as ‘Vicky Donor waali dadi’ or ‘Dadi Cool’.

Once, while watching a Ryan Reynolds movie with us, she had said: ‘If you can’t find a man this good looking, no use of getting married!’ Well, I did get married a few months ago and guess who I missed the most? Of course, dadi (now I had to take care of my closet on my own).

Here I am now, in the waiting room of the hospital, with my husband and several others around me — all of us caught in a loop of waiting for an update from doctors, praying and bursting into tears. Occasionally, I scroll through my social media feed and get news about all those being bombed in Ukraine. I can feel their pain more than ever. All of us are in a limbo — getting closer to the moment that can create a gaping hole through our hearts and hoping that it doesn’t. Maybe it is grief — of life moving on half-finished — and not love that is holding humanity together.

What is grief though? Just an extension of love or love having existed! Or maybe, grief is just seeing your grandmother in a hospital bed and remembering her unbridled love for golgappas.