I know of my grandparents only through this photo and what all my dad said about them. My dad lost his dad when he was 8 years old and his mother, when he was 9 years old. So what all he remembered was from his childhood days only.
My grandpa, I was told, was a voratious reader and collector of books, good books. But for one compilation, which I still keep, all his books were gone, as nobody took any interest in them.
As far as I know, I inherited at least two things from my grandpa: one is love of books and the other is bronchial asthma. Both seem to be growing with age and I take pride in calling myself a bibliophile – booklover, (no space or no hyphen between ‘book’ and ‘lover’, as the separation is painful to me.)
As far my grandma, I was told, that she was very devoted to my grandpa and could not live without him and hence wanted to die to join him “up there”. God granted her desire and she joined him within a year of his demise.
As a result, my dad and his younger brother grew up in a rich but childless relative’s house.
The only remnant, this photograph, was lying in a quiet corner. Who knows, one day my children may want to know about their great-grandparents. So I post this photo. Let me see whether this post awakens any curiosity in them and they ask any questions about them. In which case, I can also refresh my memory of what dad told about them and pass on that to my children.