An open letter to heaven

Yes, I’m confident about it being heaven.

To whomsoever it may concern,

That’s where he is. We bid goodbye to our lovely grandfather yesterday evening, after seeing him go through a lot of immense pain over the last few months.

His name is Venkata Subramaniam, but you can call him Kannappa mama/thatha – he will relate to it. He’s short, cute and has a hint of mallu accent in his fluent Tamil. His standard attire is a veshti and a vest, full white. He has a hoarse voice and a distinct laughter, which you will soon grow to love.

So I’m imagining your place to be breathtakingly beautiful. Lovely gardens housing blossoming flowers; massive comfortable houses; no concept of money; a world of it’s own with no pain, hunger, anger and greed; no growing old and hospitals; laughter and joy; and a CCTV to watch all of us out here, perhaps? Because, sir/madam, if that’s not the case, I want you to return my people!

Tell me, what were my thatha’s first words when he met you first at the gate? I hope you were lucky enough to hear his positively soothing “Good Morninggg!”

I also hope you have made him feel at home. He loves to read the newspaper every morning, but he loved it even more when his granddaughter read it out to him one day. He loves Lord Muruga. He loves to read and expand his knowledge every single day. He loves his wife more than anything in my world and yours put together. He loves his steaming hot cup of chai at 3 in the afternoon, please don’t delay? He loves to visit temples and engage in social service, he even made his granddaughter sing at events for him. He loves company. He loves family. He loves watching serials and don’t screw up, he needs pin-drop silence when it is on. He loves all sorts of vegetarian food, especially south Indian. I don’t think he likes hospitals too much.

He’s braved a lot of challenges through his life setting a perfect example to all of us here. As a doting father, possessive husband, incredibly loving grandfather, the always-there-for-you brother, I-will-tell-you-how-it-is-done uncle and every other role he had to play. It’s been 84 years and we think he’s seen it all, done it all. It wasn’t entirely perfect here, so please keep it safe and comfortable for him. Please make sure his CCTV is working all the time, we need to keep talking to him.

Also, has he met his son, mom, dad, brother-in-law, sister1, sister2 and all the others yet? I’m sure they will all make a lovely family out there!

The last conversation I had with him was this question he asked me, “How does one be as slim as you?!” (Though he has been a fit gentleman all his life.) Let him know that each time I think of him asking me that, a wide grin on my face automatically takes shape.

We all miss him. We want you to take good care of him, ok? And good care of the other loved ones we’ve let go and in your custody too.

Will write to you soon again.

Warm regards,

Shasvathi Siva.