I wonder if there is still anyone around to read this. No, I am not complaining. The long periods of my absence from this space deserves just that. Every time I promise to you and myself to be regular and every time I break it.

Does this happen with you too? All week, you hate getting out of the bed, stealing those five minutes of sleep from your already-late routine. But on Saturday morning, when you are adamant on sleeping till noon, your eyes pop open at 6.30 am and refuse to sleep. That's exactly what happened with me this last weekend! I tried to pamper and subsequently curse myself to sleep, but nothing worked.

So there I was, wide awake at 6.30 am on a Saturday morning. To make good of the early hours, I did get myself into action and....

• Made myself ginger tea and savored the newspaper, something I hadn't done for weeks.
• Prepared a to-do list with all the work that had been piling up for ages!
• Got myself to dust and clean even before the maid showed up!
• Got ready early and was out of the house by 10!!!

So that was me on a Saturday morning. Impressive, huh! All the list of work also included going to a Goonj centre. Well, I had these two bags full of clothes in perfect condition, I hadn't worn for over a year. What better way to ensure that they reached people who really need them.

Along with other things, there was also this visit to the bank, on my to-do list. With the way these private banks have automated everything and made it all so convenient that it is absolute pleasure to see how quickly your job is done and of course, how well they manage your account! So, there I was at this bank inquiring about their products etc.

While the executive went to bring me some leaflets and papers, I noticed an elderly gentleman on the counter next to me. He was instructing the executive what to do with his investments. I watched him intently. The way he sat, talked, motioned with his right hand and adjusted the pile of papers in front of him. And before I realized, there was this sudden stream of tears running down my cheeks! Yes, I was crying! Right in the centre of a bank with at least a dozen strangers not more than ten feet away from me.

And wait. I was not only crying. I was sobbing away! All this before I could brush aside the sudden swell of emotion or even reach for a tissue from my handbag.

Why?

The gentleman had this uncanny resemblance to Dadaji (my grandfather). It's been not even a year since he left us. He visits me almost every day in my dreams. I talk to him, share everything with him...all in my dream. And here was this person, who was so similar to him.

Suddenly, the gentleman looked towards me, smiled, got up and left. I could not smile back. I was still too overwhelmed to react. Just then, I heard the executive's hurried steps behind me. Before she reached the counter, I excused myself to the water station. Soon after, I collected the papers and walked out, not looking anyone in the eye, lest they see my swollen eyes and red nose tip!

I walked sullenly towards home, thinking about what just happened.

Was it really me who just broke down in the middle of a crowded bank?

Was it really me who could not keep a check on her emotions?!

Was it really me who cried, almost like a baby, in front of all those people?

Guess it's all those pent up emotions that gave way to tears that day.

All said and done, I miss him a lot.

I still haven't found a way to deal with life without him. I still find myself helpless in situations where I need his advice.

When I call up home, I have this strong urge to ask about him. Then, the realization comes gushing in. He is not there anymore. He won't talk to me on the phone like he used to. And I cannot complain to him about everything around me, like I used to.

And I still talk to him the way I used to. I feel that he is listening to me. When I look at his pictures, I feel he is saying something to me.

To say that life has moved on, would be incorrect. It's only time that has passed. This time has not healed the wound. With every passing day, the realization of the loss gets deeper.

I don't know how much more time it will take me, but with what happened last Saturday, I realize I'm still inconsolable.

Travelling always fascinates me and more so when it's by train! The crowds at the platforms, the various peddlers selling their goods, ranging from eatables to soaps, locks, chains, newspapers, books and so on.... I simply love everything about the whole experience.

My hometown is an overnight journey away from Delhi. Past experiences ensure that I reach the station well before the scheduled departure time of the train, or well, I am usually running with my bags, knocking any and everyone while making my way towards a moving train! So, now the 'matured and learned me' reaches the railway station at least 45 minutes earlier, buys loads of books and hoards herself with potato wafers, chocolates, bread cakes etc etc. Somehow, I have this illusion that whatever you might eat on a journey never makes you fat!!! Now, don't ask me where I got this theory from. I believe in it completely and follow it too!

But last Friday was different. The auto driver took the longest possible route (he was charging by the meter!) and I was able to reach only a few minutes before the train left. Usually you do get eatables and books in the train, so I comforted myself thinking that I would buy them later. Little did I realize that I was taking a different train (Rajdhani) which started early evening and would reach Allahabad by midnight and which meant that there would be more waking hours!

Ten minutes into the journey and my fears came true. No vendor came by! No books, no magazine, no wafers, no chocolates! I was headed towards the most boring train journey. I longed for them and I cursed myself for not carrying a novel in my handbag!! I skimmed through the contents of it a couple of times, hoping that a book would magically appear behind my wallet or a chocolate would be hidden beneath the case of my shades. Alas, that was not to be!

I settled down, still biting my lips! Being the only female passenger in the coach, I had no one to talk to and the window seats were taken, and hence even the view was out of bounds.

So while I sat there...too angry to think and too bored to distract my mind, a conversation began. Now, if you have travelled by the Indian Railways, you'd know what types of conversations spark off in such journeys. You have people from different parts of the country, different age group, different beliefs and different opinions.

This was the Patna Rajdhani and most of my fellow passengers belonged to Bihar. The conversation began from who they thought will win the next elections, drifted to the development in the state, steered to the corruption that devoured it in the past to the racist attitude of Delhites towards people from the state and finally a debate cum fight over 'God-knows-what' between a businessman who was visibly high and an idealist who would not relent.

And all this while, I sat there, my head swinging from left, listening to them speak as if their lives depended on what they said. And yes, I had company! A 12-yr old boy, who looked a 10-yr, was as bewildered as me looked at the adults around him with eyes wide open. He was at an advantage though. He could openly laugh at everyone and no one seemed to mind. So he did just that, and would also break in with his one-liners, all this while listening to music on his i-pod and playing a video game! Finally, wisdom dawned on the idealist, who realized that his counterpart was drunk and too rude and he refused to talk to him! While the 12-yr old and I waited for some more action, we were disappointed, for now the discussion became much more sober between the sober ones of the lot.

Now, I was left on my own again. I looked around and saw a business magazine lying on the berth. Having taken the owner's permission, I started flipping through its pages. And guess what, I actually ended up reading almost all the articles in there! How much did my non-business mind understand and what did it make out of it, I have no clue! But yes, I was seriously reading...for once a business magazine, word to word! Now that's a different story that I don't remember one bit about any article, except the one on Commonwealth games and the expenditure behind it!

Dinner time discussions were not too interesting and soon after, people rolled out their beds. The 12-yr old's father tucked in his son lovingly, while telling him of all kinds of ghosts that might visit him if he didn't sleep. The boy, of course, was smart enough to laugh it all of. The drunkard grumbled and turned on his berth, almost falling off each time.

A pretty eventful journey, one would say. The auto ride, no books or chocolates, interesting fellow passengers... and a fight!

"What's the use of me staying in a flat, when you always stay with relatives when visiting Delhi???"
''Staying with you means loss of time.... everything is so far from our place... and am coming for business... not pleasure!''
"Fine... go wherever you want... why will you listen to me? Anyways, let me know when you reach Delhi.... take care... bye."

And so ends the conversation. And this is so usual whenever Dad is visiting Delhi. He prefers to put up with relatives in Old Delhi... something that I naturally don't like! And that's something I hate about having a business family background.... Dad never has time for me! But I guess, even those with their parents in service would have similar views :(.

And then, as usual, he would ask my brother, Ankit, to inform me when they'll reach home. And as usual, he does decide to stay with me and of course, his ego never allows him to call me and tell me that! My dad, I tell you!

But it's always been like that between me and him. It's a special bond that only we two understand. Like any father, he always expected the most from his first child and in this case, it was me :(. I remember hiding my test copies from him as even 19/20 was never good enough; so when he asked me if I wanted to study in a boarding, I readily agreed! Why not... Dad wouldn't be there to see my marks! And then, he ensured that I never got anything that easy! In fact, I was made to earn it. So if I wanted that doll with the pink bag, I had to achieve a certain position in class! My first skates were the prize for getting through my boarding school's entrance exam and my first basketball was the reward for winning a competition! He always wanted me to be there... on the very top... ahead of everyone.... while I always feared that I might fail him!

After Mumma, Dad changed but little did his zeal diminish..... his zeal to see me excel in everything. He was never so strict with Shivani and Ankit and I felt trapped... amidst his expectations, hopes and dreams. But yes, never did he push his decisions on me. I was free to decide which subjects I wanted to study, how I wanted to shape my career, where I wanted to pursue my studies and I know he'll not question me even once when I tell him about the guy I'd want to marry! Though he was taken aback with my decision to work in Delhi.... who-so-ever has heard of a girl working in our entire family! But Dad has always been the one to define the norms and not simply follow them. After all, he sent his daughters to a boarding school and not his son, and now when his daughter wanted to work away from home, he was all there for her. He told my uncles, 'I've brought her up that way... After all, I want to see her independent and take her decisions for herself. ' I still admire the kind of confidence these words of his ... not in me, but his upbringing.

Staying in a city not your own, working, and then making decisions that seemed so trivial with Dad around, was not an easy task. There were occasions when I broke down on a call with him and told him that I wanted to return home. All he says then is - 'No worries... ghar aa jaao... business dekho... par khush raho; aur yeh sab toh chalta hi rahega... bhaago nahi, saamna karo.'

True that he's not my idol, but he is a source of my strength. In those times when I want to give up, it's his words that make me go on. I don't share everything with him, but even then, I know that he trusts me completely. A typical businessman, he will only talk business, as for him, a general conversation is loss of time (n I hate that!). At times I wonder, who does he love more - his business or us! Shivani says it's his business, Ankit says it's his work... but Dad had once said - he loves me the most :))), and I boast of this even after 11 years of him having said that

Completely at a loss of words when it comes to expressing himself, Dad is a vulnerable sweetheart! We dread his anger, but as all children, know how to work around it! And he would never let me hug him! And he'd never look into the camera when clicking a picture! (You'll know what I mean when you see this picture :) )

And once when, he said, "It's not a small thing to stay alone, work away from home and establish yourself, especially for a girl and I feel proud of all that you've done," I knew I've not let him down. The spark in my father's eyes told me that he does loves me the most and even though he'd never say it, I know that we mean the world to him!

I love you Dad, for all that you are and for making me what I am today and most importantly, for being my father!

This is in response to the contest 'Tribute to Dad' organised by blogadda in association with Pringoo!

Every holiday, she would wake up early and wait for her grandfather to take her along for his morning walk... for those were also her learning-to-ride-a-cycle sessions. They would hire a small bicycle (the ones without support) and she would hop on to it, glowing with happiness. He would hold the seat from behind and jog along as she rode her little horse. Every evening, they went out for small walks, usually to the temple close-by and there he would talk to her, tell her stories, tell her what the 'big' and the 'small' hand in the huge temple clock indicated and listen to her narrate her eventful day.

While her grandmother took care of her routine activities like going to school, having meals on time, studying and so on, her grandfather took care of everything else, being there as a friend and guide. Being the first child guarantees all your grandparents' love and she sure basked in it. Her mother was very young when she was born and father, a thorough businessman had little time for conversations or activities beyond her school and studies.

Her grandmother passed away when she was six and soon after, her grandfather assumed the role. His stories were based on his experiences and the little and big things that made him who he was. One of those things that really fascinated her was that he was the most punctual person she knew and yet he never wore a watch! The little story behind it was - Once he went to meet a high-rank officer and was late for the appointment by fifteen minutes. The officer refused to meet him and asked him to take another appointment. That day he broke his watch and vowed to be punctual always. A vow he took when he was starting his career and something he kept all his life. She heard these and many other stories many times over and never grew out of them.

The little girl was sent to a boarding when she was 8, a world she was an alien to, but his letters kept her going. Short and crisp, they were always written in numbered points, rather than paragraphs. Every birthday she received a hand-drawn card from him and every holidays, he would be waiting for her with more stories and little lessons from his life, which built the foundation of her life. Years passed and on one much-awaited summer vacation, he informed her of her mother's sudden demise. She was too shocked to react when he hugged her and said, 'I'm here and will take care of you always.'

Soon after, she returned from her boarding school and continued with her studies at her hometown. All of 13, she had a brother, who was much younger, to take care of. While she tried to adapt to the sudden change of circumstances, there was always this one person who was with her - her grandfather. He was there to talk to her, advise her, pamper her, listen to her... Every morning, before leaving for school, she would go to his room with her brother and he would give her a 20-rupee note and every evening, they would wait for him to return from work and ransack his bag for the surprise he would get for them. And it was always there - from sweets to ice creams to toys... he never disappointed them. He would help her with her Hindi and Sanskrit lessons, her debates and speeches, and elocution. And he would always have that one point that gave her an edge in every competition. She once delivered a speech of Napoleaon and was not able to find an appropriate end for it. Somehow, the text didn't seem good enough. She recited it before him the night before the elocution. He listened to the entire speech and when she finished, he added - There's not the reason how, there's not the reason why; But to do and to die! That was it! She knew she had got the words that would give her speech the mark she wanted. These lines gave the speech the impact it lacked and she won the competition. Though not many knew that those lines were not Napoleon's, but her grandfather's!

There were many things he disapproved, Maggi and late night TV being few of them. Though he was far much liberal for his age and not biased towards way of living or dressing up! All he would say to her was - Jiasa desh, waisa bhesh (live and dress according to your surroundings) and his own motto in life was the four 'A's' that he stuck to - Adopt, Adjust, Accommodate and Accept. His life and energy surprised her each time. Close to 90, he took care of the entire business, ran a charity trust, published several books every month and was there for the poor and needy always. Stories of his secret charities would reach her every now and then and each time, she would savour that moment for being his grand daughter!

Every morning, she would sit with him while he did the day books and ledgers, and talk to him endlessly. He would listen to everything, keep responding in between to assure her he was listening and would react to few. And there was nothing she could not discuss with him - from college ragging to events to friends! At the beginning of every month, they would make the budget together and at the end of it, they would take a stock of expenses.

After college, he realised that his little girl had grown up and was least reluctant in letting her go and pursue a career. Having set up his business from scratch, he knew and valued the importance of standing on your feet. When she had to leave the comfort of her home towards a promising career, his eyes shone with happiness and pride as he told everyone he met, 'My grand-daughter has got a nice job in Delhi.' Little did relatives' and well wishers' apprehensions deter him for he told them bluntly that he wants to see his daughters as independent as a son. And so the first among many daughters from the conservative business class family set out to make her mark in a new world and not without the approval and blessings of her grandfather.

She bought him gifts from her first salary and he scolded her for spending that much money; but that didn't stop her from buying more gifts for him. Every time, she was to go home, she'd call him and ask what he wanted her to get and would get the same reply, 'I have everything, what will I do with more. You come soon.' Though recently, he asked her to get some bright-colored shirts she brought him last time. He said happily, "I feel young and radiant and everyone compliments me when I wear that shirt." On hearing this, she was happier than ever and got him nice shirts whenever she went home. He would make sure someone went to receive her at the station and he would himself wait for her at the door. The first thing she did on reaching home was talk to him, have tea with him and give him his gifts (being extra careful of removing the price-tags).

The distance between them only brought them closer as they discussed everything while becoming more sensitive to each other's feelings and opinions. His dream was to see her happily settled while she wanted to publish a book dedicating it to him and surprise him. For it was he who encouraged her to write when he read few of her compositions and it was he who published her first book when she was 13. He, somehow, got to know about the book and called to tell her that he will get it published for her. She knew then that what had taken a backseat due to her own hurries and worries would be realized through him. Her surprise was over, but the fact that he loved her compositions made her happy and more confident.

Every time they spoke, he would ask her about new developments, hinting at her marriage; and she would give him the same reply that she needed more time. The last time they spoke about it, she asked him for two months and that she would take a decision by then. He agreed and didn't question her further. All he said was that he wanted to see her happy with someone who would give her the love and respect she deserved. She assured him that she will have someone like that as he and his blessings were with her. And she added, like she always did, that he would even see her children's marriage! He laughed and she smiled. She called him the other day and asked his advise on investments, they discussed her book and she was to send him the typeset copy after reviewing it over the weekend. He, then, told her that he had severe cough and she told him to see a doctor and take home remedies. Their conversation was the usual one - short, crisp with all details and information each one had.

The next day was a bright and cheery one. She thought of calling him in the morning, then thought that she would call him around noon when he would have settled in the shop. It was her father's birthday that day. At half past eleven, she got a call from her father, 'Neha, be calm and listen to me....Dadaji is no more.' She stood, shocked and shaken....her entire world collapsed around her. He had left her without a hint. In a moment, her life had taken a U-turn. She cried, she howled, she rushed to her hometown to see him for one last time.

That day, he didn't send anyone to receive her at the station, he didn't wait for her at the door. He lay there, still and motionless. She cried, she pleaded, she howled, but he didn't respond. He had gone and she couldn't do anything.

Yes, Dadaji has gone and I couldn't do anything. I could not even be by his side. Can't I see him one last time, talk to him, hug him, have morning tea with him, give him all the small and little happiness I could not...just one last time!

Dadaji, I know you are still here with me, much closer now. I can't see you, but I can feel your presence. I don't know how I will move on from here for you were and are my biggest strength and support. You knew you could have asked me for anything and I'd do that willingly for you, but you never did. All you wanted was to see me happy and independent. And it is you who made me who I am today. You were my mother and father and without you, I feel lonely and scared. I know you would hate to see me this way and I don't want to hurt you, but where do I go without you? You said you would be there with me always and you left quietly. I miss you, Dadaji and wish that I could spend all those moments with you that I spent away from you. I wish I could talk to you the way we did... endlessly. I wish I could fulfill your dream to see me settled. I wish I could gift you my book, dedicated to you, and see the happiness and pride in your eyes. I wish I could give you many more bright-colored shirts that you made you look radiant and young. I wish I could do all those things that made you smile and happy. I know you can see me, hear me, but you won't talk to me. I miss you Dadaji; give me the strength to live the life you wanted me to, to fulfill all your dreams for us, to complete the work you left undone. Be with me like you always have, for without you, I am nothing.