By Rishika Agarwal
It had been a year-long duration since I met Grandpa after he was diagnosed with cancer. He has recovered from the deteriorating disease. Knowing that we would visit him the next day, I gleamed with joy. In his prime, he toiled vigorously, yet even now, in his twilight years, he grapples with melancholy.
When I entered his room, I found him catching some Z’s. I was leaning towards waking him up, but simultaneously hesitating to do so because of his illness. Somehow, he had an inkling that I was there, prompting him to awaken. It’s disheartening to say this, but his body is just an accessory now, the major part was his inner urge to live blissfully.
He asked about my well-being. I asked him, “Grandpa, you’re the best person I have ever met. Your fortitude, even in this terminal condition is inspiring. How can you be so resilient dadu?”
He answered, “Beta, life is like a rollercoaster, and if there are no ups and downs, will anyone enjoy it?” His voice carried the weight of a lifetime of experiences. He added, “In life, we navigate through valleys of darkness, even climb mountains of triumph, so this candle of hope should never be extinguished.”
He said, “Especially, during your age, hope correlates with reaching the inner summit and sense of purpose. During my age, we tend to solidify our identity and accept ourselves, despite the physical decline.” He hopes to find joy in simple things such as meeting me. He said, “The best astrophysicist till date, Stephen Hawking, refused to yield the reality of his disintegrating body as he hoped, only, to live a peaceful life.”
I said, “Hope isn’t about having expectations. It is to anticipate a positive outcome with reasonable confidence.” Grandpa was gazing at me with such a glance as if I suddenly became quick-witted. He said, “Yes, hopeful people have a healthy mindset and leverage their thoughts towards realistic and controllable things.”
I further asked about his resilience. His idea did not stem from his life but displayed it through my mom’s resilience. He continued, “Your mom had been a bright student since her childhood, on the contrary, her board scores were low. Didn’t she crack one of the hardest exams in India later? She did so by being resilient and hopeful to do something better, beta.”
“Grandpa, hope, and resilience are intertwined. Hope provides fuel for resilience and resilience shields risks turning frail, isn’t it?” I asked him. Agreeing, he added, “Resilience, a river carving through adversity, forges paths unseen; hope, a flickering candle, illuminates the darkness.”
He then shared a fable- “There was a saint who had been practising mortification for a considerable duration but could not obtain spirituality. Frustrated and insipid, he decided to discontinue the practice and return home. Backtracking, he saw a squirrel engaged in an unusual task. He asked the squirrel, “What are you up to?” The squirrel replied, “My kid has drowned in this river. Using my tail, I will dry this river.” Initially, he laughed at her but after a prolonged silence and deep thinking, he resumed his penitential. What moved him was his thinking- ‘if this tiny squirrel had hoped to dry the immense river, shouldn’t I be resilient enough to continue my austerity?’.”
“Such a wonderful story, Grampy!” I spoke. He added, “One must starve to be successful, for getting a virtuous result isn’t as easy as finding a needle in a haystack.”
After a notable pause, he said, “Dear, exchanging wisdom and insight between generations is a reciprocal process. There would be much to learn from your Gen Z generation as well…”
My exhilarating response was- “Yeah Grandpa, in this fast-paced world, where change is constant, we youngsters master in dealing with fresh perspectives and potency to leave old practices.”
“I surmise this as the motive of why social reforms are teeming out.”, he assented, mirroring my smile. I responded, “Yes, we pursue juvenile daring and are outspoken about our differing perspectives. We must remember that we can be changed by what happens to us, but we shouldn’t let the change reduce us.”
It was Grandpa’s next dose of medicine, and the caretaker uttered, “Sir, you have to sleep now.” I wanted to extend this conversation, but he had to tuck in.
We wandered through the enchanted forest of preaching, where each step was a melody and every whispered word, a spellbinding verse.
By Rishika Agarwal
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