In her final days, she had become very fragile. Her balance was unsteady, her speech not always clear. Yet, every day she would insist on going to the bus stop at the end of our lane to see my four/five-year-old Shiv.
She would get ready well in advance, anxious, eager, almost restless, just to drop him and later bring him back from his Bus engaged by his Tiny-Tots Pre-School, his first tele-tots days near Moolchand Hospital, Lajpat Nagar III.
One day, I saw something that stayed with me forever.
Instead of her guiding Shiv across the road, it was little Shiv holding her hand tightly, carefully helping her cross the lane. She walked slowly, almost dependent on him.
I rushed forward and asked, “Why do you go to pick him when you can hardly see or walk properly?”
She smiled and said,
“I am so happy to go for him… in many ways, your son is better than you, Preetmohan! You will see, he will grow into a great person and surpass everyone in the family.”
Her words were simple… but filled with a vision only a grandmother could carry
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