For You, Badepapa.

Dear Badepapa,

I'm having trouble deciding how to write this letter to you, about you. Nonetheless, I have been planning to write this for a long time now, and here it goes.

Should I start with thanking you for all the yummy Mughlai chicken you've made for me over the years? And how you reserve the leg piece specially for me, every time? Or for the Spanish omelette you whip up?

Or the many wonderful times we have walked in the park where you shared stories of your life that are just incredible on so many levels? Or the times you walked with me to the tiny library nearby that you call a 'dungeon'? 

Of course I thank you for all the above.

But a special thanks is in order for all the stories you have told me as a child. Stories like no other; your manner of delivery made lions pounce around your bedroom. You made words come alive like no one else I've met in my short stint on this dear planet.

Like any other child, I used to love a story. I vividly remember you lying down on the big old bed at 1, C-8, Aasha Apartments for your afternoon nap. The quaint smell of old unused items from the cupboard at the entrance envelopes the room. The curtains provide much required shade from the heat of Calcutta's skies. I would crawl up beside you, and ask in an unassuming innocent manner only children can have, 'Tell me a story'. And how could you deny your very first grandchild the privilege of a good story? You would roll up the newspaper you were reading, hit me on the head with it playfully and ask in a resigned manner, 'Okay, choose two animals'. And the curious crazy child I was with no understanding of the relationship between animal population and climatic conditions, I would think for two minutes and say, 'Hmmm..Yesterday was zebra and tortoise. So today I want a polar bear and a giraffe'. I thought I was very clever for knowing these animals.

Without missing a beat, the story would begin.

 "Once upon a time, in the forest of Congo in Africa, there lived one giraffe. He was very very tall, much taller than all his friends.............  and then they lived happily ever after."

Without doubt, these stories of two random animals in the forests of Congo and Tanzania are the best stories I've heard in my life. You narrated completely new stories every single day, and that never feels to amaze me to this day. In this age of rampant plagiarism, I only need to think of your stories to believe that originality is not a myth that time forgot. You are quite the raconteur, Badepapa. :)

I credit my love for books and my little ability to write to one person: you. 

You inspired me to 'imagine', before I was even formally introduced to that word in textbooks. Thanks to you, I now love to lose myself in the world of a novel, and curl up in the silence of the dark night and dawn, enjoying the deliciousness of a novel.

While love may be subjective, respect can never be. To that extent, you are one of the few men on this planet I genuinely respect. I respect you for having the courage to leave home and set forth on a month-long voyage to London, because you didn't want to be tied down to a government job. That trailblazing attitude has found its way to me, but I sure won't be running away any time soon to prove it! I respect you for raising three amazing, dutiful, responsible sons. Badepapa, you may be short-tempered and stubborn, but you are also wise, kind, forgiving and playful. Many have not seen the playful side of you, but I have, and it sure is wonderful. You sure can take a joke, because I have called you 'Ganju-No-Dattu Patel' a million times as a kid, and you laughed every single time. Not everyone would have. 

Your love for golf and the attention I gave to your every word was proven by an incident years ago. I'm not sure you remember this, but when my kindergarten teacher asked me, 'What do you want to become when you grow up?', I'd confidently answered, 'Golfer'. :)

Of course, I haven't grown up to be a golfer, or pursued engineering or travelled to London, but 2 days ago, I did one thing. I cooked a cheese omelette all by myself, and that's as good a start as any, right? 

I just hope, in some small way, I make you proud. Because I'm more than proud to call myself your grand-daughter.

Love,

Bunny.

P.S. Please start carrying your mobile phone everywhere you go. Please please pleeeeeeease. :)