For the world he was Bhaai Shetye. But for me he was and would always be My Bhaai- my grandfather. Although he detested when any of his grandchildren called him Ajoba, I would tease him just that- Bhaai Ajoba. He would irritably get up to catch me and I, as an ideal three year old would sprint away laughing impishly.
Tall, not so dark and handsome (even in his seventies); Bhaai was an absolute mix of finesse and acumen. Sporting a crisp white shirt, white trousers, black shoes, glasses and a watch strapped across his palm was his trademark. There was some kind of magnificence in his aura that always drove people to respect him.
The glorious days I spent at Dadar, so to say ‘Shetye Building’ as a child, are completely unrivaled. I simply cannot think of any other happy times I may have lived with so much freedom, space, care, love and as a crazy hoodlum. My parents had a tough time dealing with me but I was a complete ‘devil-may-care’ Shetye girl on the go. Bhaai always said that in me he saw his childhood. Being the second born to my parents after an elder sister, the family awaited a boy. But there I was, a not-so-fair looking GIRL. My grandmother was supremely upset as she expected a boy. But Bhaai was happy from what I learnt later on. He was the best grandfather any child could ever ask for. He fondly called me Sokri. I always craved for a pet name as a child since my sister had one and often grumbled to my parents for not giving me one. But the name Bhaai gave me made me so happy that if he called out to me from any corner of the house, I would run to him, because he addressed me with my most special and exclusive pet name. I took absolute pride. I still do not know what the name means. I never did. But it has always been dear to me.
When I was about three, he suffered from paralysis. It was not really a suffering because he never let anyone feel that he was ill or physically unwell. Post his physical condition, his personality and attitude towards life, people and everything in general underwent a dramatic change. In contrast to his previously grim and stern personality, he was relatively mellow and composed (as my mom recalls). I distinctly remember the day when our family doctor came home to treat him. I was about four then. Short and little. Bhaai was lying down on the couch, the doctor was checking him and all the elders of the family stood around him. Standing behind my mommy, when I peeked in to see what the doctor was doing to my Bhaai, I saw Bhaai look back at me with a full smile and I smiled back at him, raising my eyebrow in a way as to asking him what’s he upto? He was a fighter.
At Shetye Building, we had the entire third (last) floor for our family to ourselves with a grand terrace. We were the quintessential joint family of the times. With so many cousins, uncles, aunties, grandparents all around, life was surely at the hilt of joy. Nothing seemed better than that. And until today, nothing is better than that. We were about eight kids in the family, forever upto some or the other prank. Bhaai had the routine of snorting his tapkir (powdered tobacco). Everytime I saw him snort it, I would wonder what was it in there that he loved so dearly?! The curious prankster in me told my cousins about it and there we were, four kids, grabbing a small bottle and snorting tapkir. It made us all sick. Sabko naani yaad aa gayi. But hell we enjoyed it.!
There was one particular day when I was incredibly upset with him. I called him Ajoba the entire day.! The reason- Our exam results were out. While my sister turned out in the first five in her class, I got the 21st rank. I was more than happy to see that I got a rank.! When we showed Bhaai our report cards, he exclaimed- “21st rank!!??” And said, “Ramnee (nick name for my sister) is in the first five of her class and you got the 21st rank!!??” And with that he and my entire family had a hearty laugh.! I was angered to the extent that I would not eat dinner that day. It was my duty to call out to him for his meals while he sat in his chair in the corridor reading. And I called him Ajoba all the while. Mummy tried to feed me dinner that day but I wouldn’t budge. She hit me and I cried. And boom. Bhaai skipped his meal because he could not see me cry. He could not stand the fact that anyone hit me or brought tears to my eyes. I angrily went upto him and said, “Why did you laugh at my scores?” and he laughed again. I was quick enough to forgive him.
In our home, we followed a ritual every Navratri when the entire family would gather to sing the evening aarti. I thoroughly enjoyed those nine days as I was the official pianist of the family. Our mandir was placed in the kitchen and all the elders would be in there while the children would fool around in the living room. The couch in the living room had a thick backrest that opened from the top as a piano. While the family sang aarti and my cousins danced to it, I played the piano, imitating my school teacher who played one during the national anthem. I was ecstatic with the holy chants, dance, music and my piano all around me.
When we (Mom, Dad, Shweta and I) moved to Chembur, I was totally dejected. The thought of making new friends which were not my cousins was terrifying. After every exam my sister and I would rush off to Dadar. Summer vacations were the most splendid there. Indulging in playing Rummy with Bhaai was a favourite pastime. It was my cousin Gaurav, Bhaai and me. Gaurav was the eternal and official cheater of the game. And his art was imparted to me when I would see Bhaai’s cards in his glasses and even then lost all the games. He was the camp. We were so obsessed with the game that we played it all day amidst my granny’s screeching music (to have our meals). The days when we did not play cards we wished to go to Shivaji Park and as always we never had the money to venture out because whatever we had was invested in buying maggi. So we would sheepishly go upto him and tell him to give us ten bucks. Our puppy faces left him with no choice but to oblige.
One evening my dad called up to remind us that our vacations were over and we had to resume school. None of us wanted to leave. We refused to ply with our dad and he was furious with us. I cleverly passed on the phone to Bhaai who was the only man ‘my dad’ was afraid of. Bhaai grimly told him “the girls are not going anywhere and will be staying here for two more days. You may go ahead.” And we all jumped..! I was elated. Nothing was more important to me than staying put in our Dadar home. We spent the most amazing two days. All thanks to my Bhaai. He was my star.
I vividly remember the day he passed away, five days preceding my birthday. Leaving us all shattered. I was eleven. At first my heart plainly refused to believe that he was no more. While he lay there near the same couch on which he was once treated by the doctor, I peeked at him with a smile and he did not smile back at me. I was hurt. I felt as though he cheated me and he could not do this to me. I did not cry. Tears just could not reach my eyes until the tenth day after he passed away. That was when I was told about the crow who comes in the form of the departed and you know his soul has rested in peace. I never believed in that story, yet when the crow came in, I could not hold back my tears.
I know for a fact that he has not left me. He is there with me, always watching me and protecting me. Standing by me and giving me all the strength I need. He is talking to God and asking him to assist me in times of obscurity.
He is My Bhaai. Embedded in my life, memory and my heart and will always be there with me.. And I will be his little Sokri forever.. :)
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