My maternal grandfather whom I called Appupa passed away today. He had been battling illnesses after his stroke last year. Since the past few months he was also bed-ridden and needed a full-time nurse to look after him in complete contrast to the way he led his life.

He was orphaned when barely three years old. The three brothers and a sister were then brought up by their maternal uncle whose name they adopted. He was a school teacher and therefore rather strict. They lived on a little island in the backwaters of Kerala. In those days there were no concrete bridges and they had to use boats to travel anywhere. They went to school in a tiny canoe that could capsize with the slightest of shakes. On several days they would swim over to school only to be told to stand outside class for being late and drenched to the skin.

Appupa strived through those difficult times and became a school teacher himself. He was then married to a girl who was an orphan herself, but had a small house and a little bit of land. As was the custom those days, he moved into her house. They had three children and his wife expired after giving birth to their third child due to complications during childbirth. He was left with three little children, the oldest being only six years old (my mom) and the youngest just a few hours. He handed over the little children to one of his wife's sisters and got back to work. However it became increasingly difficult to manage because the relatives were never too keen to take care of the children. They kept pestering him to re-marry. He didn't want the children to suffer at the hands of a step-mother.

Finally two years after his first wife passed away, he married a divorcee with two sons of her own. She was also older than him. He placed a cruel condition, that she shouldn't bring her sons with her. Ammuma (as I call her) had to abandon her sons (one of whom tried to commit suicide by jumping into the river) to the care of some relatives and came to live with Appupa. They had a son together, but never really got along. Ammuma however was a kind woman who became the mother to the three motherless children.

Eventually after the children had all grown up, gotten married and left home, Appupa and Ammuma separated. There was nothing to keep them together and they just couldn't stand each other. Both of them had really strong personalities that clashed.

Appupa was always very strict with his children... they got beaten up regularly for not studying or doing their homework. But all the children turned out fine... they do not use capital punishment with their own kids. Appupa was also strict with his grandchildren, but to a lesser degree.

Appupa had the wonderful happiness of becoming a great-grand-dad when my sister gave birth to her son. One of the pictures I treasure most is of Appupa holding Omu in his arms - four generations encapsulated in that embrace.

I am extremely sad today that Appupa is no more. He and I have had loads of arguments due to the generation gap and me being as head-strong as him. However, I always enjoyed those conversations and over the years missed them when Appupa mellowed down (and I matured with age). To his last days, he remained head-strong and independent minded. The reason he got a second stroke was because he had tried to lift a very heavy branch that had fallen off a tree in the back-yard. That stroke however took away his freedom. On my last visit, Appupa had been walking around with the support of a walker. He had lost most of his teeth and was mostly on a diet of kanji and other soft and liquidy stuff. I had advised him to continually perform the physiotherapy exercises that would make his legs stronger. He argued for a bit and then gave up. Later, I went up to him and apologised for arguing. That's when he said that he had no hard feelings and that in his heart he is glad that his grandchildren have grown up enough to advise him. He had become like a little child who was at the mercy of his children and grandchildren now.

The seventh and final age of man ... Is second childishness and mere oblivion, sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.