Nana & Nani

My memories of this place are safe in the bubble wrap of time and distance. In my eyes there are no cracks in the crown moulding, the yellowing paint is white, the now threadbare rug is still plush, the fraying lace curtains look no less decadent than they did 15 years ago and I still hear the cuckoo clock that nobody has found the time to wind. Most of all, my grandparents are still young.

My feet skip nimbly over the slew of medical paraphernalia attached to their big comfortable bed when I land myself squarely in the middle of it. My eyes somehow glaze over the mountains of prescriptions littering the bedside table. My mind pretends not to notice how their hands tremble when I hold them in mine.

Until this year's visit, I was scared. Petrified. I refused to acknowledge it. Nothing was taking them away from me, especially not this proletarian concept of Old Age. But life has a funny way of trapping you in a tiny room with your worst fears until the two of you talk things out and part ways with a mutual respect. So they both fell ill. Unreasonably ill. Why? Not because they weren't eating all their vegetables, not because they'd smoked themselves into cancer, not because of any fault or neglect on their part. Just because they were old.

So this year, I saw them as they were - tissue-paper skin, porcelain bones, salt and pepper hair. They weren't all that different. I'm not claiming that they have maintained the same mental and physical agility - but they are the same on the inside. They are not blighted with bitterness - there is no vitriol in their speaking or thinking.

What does it matter that my grandfather now has to lie down while playing teen pati with me, what does it matter that my grandmother forgets that story of Krishna and the Gopis half way, what does it matter that they now tire after walks around the house rather than walks around the building. What matters is that they still love us, they still want to do all these things with us.

If I ever do get to being old, that's how I want to do it. Fighting what I can but accepting what I must.