Growing up, I have the fondest recollections of my granddad. Coaxing me, ruining me, shielding me from my parent’s fierceness and countless things that can’t be placed in simple words. More than a father figure, he was a companion, a buddy I lost too soon in life… Yet I’m appreciative, for each memory I have with him.
Why am I saying this? Since I as of late unearthed a heart-touching post by picture taker GMB Akash that has filled me with feelings, illogical. It is a story of torment and interest that is certainly going to touch your heart in courses more than one… a story of a granddad who is no not as much as a saint.
Read it here:
Everyone says that I have ruined my granddaughter’s life. I tell them, I feel very happy that I destroyed her life. You should have the courage to destroy, to ruin, to end that causes you so much pain. It’s been six months my son and daughter-in-law stopped talking to me and never visited my place. If everyone thinks that I am a criminal, I have no interest to waste my time to prove them wrong. When I come to work, people gossip about me, none of them has the gut to come to me and ask what had gone through me. But I do not care. Bangles were very dare to my Mita. Mita is my only granddaughter. When she was a child I had to buy bangles for her from the fair. I starved months to buy her a pair of silver bangles when she was ten. I put oil and trimmed her hair most of the time. When I came to work I brought her with me and she studied under the tree and I always checked her from distant. She loved to play hide & seek and before hiding she always come to me and says where she was going to hide. I told her she should not tell anyone her hiding place, she said, ‘I did not tell anyone. Just you.’ I never let her cry even for the silly things. And they are saying I have ruined my grand daughter’s life! The beast tortured her every day. She could not wear bangles anymore, when I asked her why her hands were empty; she hid her burnt spots. Her husband had beaten up her without reasons. They asked me never to visit her. But I secretly went to meet her every day. In fear, she told me never to go there. Twenty years I struggled to put smile on her face, how could I let her burn into a hell just to see if she could manage an abusive marriage. She was dying with time and everyone including her parents was blind. They said, it needs patience, girls should have patience. One day, I held her husband legs so he let me to take her hospital, he held my hands and threw me from their house. And again I returned back. I tolerated all humiliation just to see her once. The day when Mita’s neighbour admitted her to hospital, they sent news to me secretly. I went there and saw she was vomiting blood, she could not properly hear. After three days she was able to talk, when I asked her to rest, she said, ‘Take me somewhere, somewhere very far dada, where there is no pain. I want to hide there.’ No, I did not let her hide. I gave the man to the police. She broke the marriage on her will. And I sheltered her in my house. I bought a sewing machine for my child. I will never let anyone to play with her life again. My Mita will live again. She will dream and love again. I will buy more bangles for her. Till my last breathe, she does not need to hide, from anyone or from any pain.
Yes, you must be your own saint… however when you have a hero cum-granddad like that, you don’t have to stress over a thing! Go embrace yours, on the off chance that he is around… in the event that he is not, you know he is continually looking.
