A Secret
I was very close to my Dadajee and according to jealous sources in our family, I was his favorite grandson. My cousins would always tease me that since I was the eldest son in the family, my Dadajee was always biased towards me. I am not sure if it was true or not (although it was never my fault according to him), but I got to know my Dadajee like no other in the family.
My Dadajee's side hailed from Sargoda region of Pakistan and people from that region are known as "khore" (or rough) punjabis. Their Punjabi is not as sweet as from people in Pindi or Lahore, maybe because of the roughness of the region which rubs off its people and their language. He used to write Urdu poems or shayaris and always kept a diary of his shayaris with him. He later joined the British Army and had some of the best time of his life when he was posted at Congo, Africa during the Second World War. Whenever I would get bored, I would ask him to tell me about his adventures in Africa. We would sit in our verandah under the sun and his stories will transport me to the jungles of Congo, no less than a Indiana Jones movie in which my Dadajee was always the Hero.
His last 15 years were one of the toughest after my Dadijee got paralysis. He dedicated the rest of his life to take care of her every need. It was frustrating time for him but in order to take a break from it, he would either work in our kitchen garden or tell me stories from his days during the British Raj. There was also a little secret we shared.
My Dad was posted in Meerut during those days. Meerut is known for its Hindu-Muslim riots, which starts off almost every other week over trivial matters, but it also known for its old city, its markets and its food. Me and Dadajee would go once a week to the old city market and everytime he would buy a big plate of Jalebis for Rs.10 and we both will eat it with relish. We never took any Jalebis back home as this was our little secret (although later I was told that he was on sugar-free diet during those days). We would then goto the Gurudwara and bring some parshad for everyone. Those trips were some of the best time we spend with each other as Dada and his favorite Grandson. He passed away after I moved to Canada but for me he still lives through his memories and stories.
Happy Birthday Dadajee !!
PS: Happy Birthday Dada jee (now that's my other secret)
My Dadajee's side hailed from Sargoda region of Pakistan and people from that region are known as "khore" (or rough) punjabis. Their Punjabi is not as sweet as from people in Pindi or Lahore, maybe because of the roughness of the region which rubs off its people and their language. He used to write Urdu poems or shayaris and always kept a diary of his shayaris with him. He later joined the British Army and had some of the best time of his life when he was posted at Congo, Africa during the Second World War. Whenever I would get bored, I would ask him to tell me about his adventures in Africa. We would sit in our verandah under the sun and his stories will transport me to the jungles of Congo, no less than a Indiana Jones movie in which my Dadajee was always the Hero.
His last 15 years were one of the toughest after my Dadijee got paralysis. He dedicated the rest of his life to take care of her every need. It was frustrating time for him but in order to take a break from it, he would either work in our kitchen garden or tell me stories from his days during the British Raj. There was also a little secret we shared.
My Dad was posted in Meerut during those days. Meerut is known for its Hindu-Muslim riots, which starts off almost every other week over trivial matters, but it also known for its old city, its markets and its food. Me and Dadajee would go once a week to the old city market and everytime he would buy a big plate of Jalebis for Rs.10 and we both will eat it with relish. We never took any Jalebis back home as this was our little secret (although later I was told that he was on sugar-free diet during those days). We would then goto the Gurudwara and bring some parshad for everyone. Those trips were some of the best time we spend with each other as Dada and his favorite Grandson. He passed away after I moved to Canada but for me he still lives through his memories and stories.
Happy Birthday Dadajee !!
PS: Happy Birthday Dada jee (now that's my other secret)
posted by fursat at 10:30 PM
10 Comments:
Thats a really sweet post. Wish your dadajee a very Happy Birthday...I hope he is having a great time cutting heavenly cake and enjoying all the jalebis he likes!
awwwwwwwwww so cute!
:) Happy Birthday to ur Dadajee....
I like reading ur posts.... :)
what a sweet post...
That is such a lovely post...
colors - Thank You :-) Oh yes, Jalebis for sure.
ankur - Thanks & Welcome to my blog !!
rain girl - :-)
sum - Thank You !! Do you still blog? I have heard about you through Chandu and Preeti :-)
anks - :-)
hola - warrior of light - Thanks !!
oh that must be one "sweet" dadajee.. hmm
I was browsing through various blogs when I came across yours. This was so close to hoe that I had to respond. I was close to my Daddyji too. He was in the British army and had served in Persia and later in Burma. We lived hearing his experiences. In fact we used to call their house a musuem, as he had artifacts from all his postings. He was a great gentleman and took immaculate care of my bedridden mummyji(daadi) often parying to Wwaheguru to take her before him, so that he would not be worried. Infact he did actually pass away 1 month after her, peacefully in his sleep. We all are blessed to have such super human beings in our lives. Keep up the close to heart writing!
chandu - Yea, he was.
preeti - Welcome to my Blog !! We indeed are very blessed and thanks for sharing your story :-)
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