Things My Grandfather Taught Me: Thank You
“Greenpark,” I told the autowallah.
“Sixty,” he informed me.
“Fifty,” I corrected him.
I stepped inside the auto, watching as the world whirled past me. Everything disappeared in a fog of greens and blues – the world felt very blue at the moment. Everything felt rather cold, yet – I felt like I had never felt warmer, either.
Someone honked a horn.
I didn’t look up.
I felt –
I felt – nothing, at the moment. All I could think about was jalebis. You see, my baba used to buy jalebis as a treat – every time I came home.
As the autowallah pulled up to the Greenpark entrance, I gave him fifty, jumping off the auto.
“Thank you,” I said.
I remember my heart lurched in my throat. Baba used to tell me – “in a day, you should say sorry and thank you at least a thousand times.”
A hundred times.
I was heading home. And then, we were heading to the hospital where Baba had just passed away that morning.
I had nine hundred and ninety nine ‘sorry’s’ and ‘thank you’s’ to say.