Dadi amma dadi amma...

My last surviving grandmother died yesterday. Not that I was emotionally connected with her, infact she hated me (my guts, to be precise). The feeling was mutual with such devotion that even Mirabai would find herself offended. An example, she was being treated for heart ailments in Noida and I never went to pay a visit, not that she expected that from me. According to her, I was this darubaaz, chicken-mutton-eater who, just like his father, had no respect for elders and who would pick up a fight with anyone faster than Javed Miandad. In short, if she would have been around in bollywood, Lalita Pawar would have played roles of bahu with her as saas.

So when I was going to my uncle's home in Noida (where she spent her last days), I felt - in little, discreet doses - sad. When someone you love dies, you feel desperate and lonely. But gradually you overcome those through time. But when someone you hate dies, you know that the void might never fill up.

I think her daughter and daughter-in-law never see eye to eye. Both were crying in different rooms, and there was a sort of competition going on between them as to who can cry louder. Two teams formed quickly and I sensed an invisible rope stretching from room 1 to room 2 with both teams playing tug-of-war (I have seen this game played in my school, and the cries resembled amazingly).

I know I shouldn't bitch like this when one dies. But hey, this is a blog no one reads. I can be honest.

[Not totally unrelated]: What is the opposite of a eulogy?