His pure white Khadi wear and nicely oiled hair
His short tempered outbursts at slight mistakes
His walking stick and spectacles that made him look older
His joyful moments playing with little Shreya
His annoyance at all those strips of medicine
His restlessness when the newspaper got late
His love for tea that was prepared tastefully
His love for early morning bhajans on radio
His tendency to switch off the television when India was losing a cricket match
His neat way of arranging things
His habit of waking up before the world does
His habit of dozing off while watching TV
His habit of reading aloud some interesting stuff in books and showing it to me
His recently acquired interest in solving simple Sudoku puzzles
His sense of bewilderment at computers and Internet
And the list goes on...
It is these images that we capture and preserve in our minds. This is the stuff one leaves behind that gets imprinted in us, and you begin to wonder at the healing power of time. I'm reminded of these lyrics from Boney M:
Time, changer of seasons, time will see another flower growing.
Climb over the mountains, there you'll find warm winds blowing.
Somewhere in the world ...