I remember when I was little, whenever I stepped out of the gate and onto the road my dad or mom or grandpop would always hold my hand… that gradually changed to me just holding their hand when crossing the road and then when I was 7 or 8 years old, that stopped too. I had grown up. I didn’t need people holding my hand, I could cross the road on my own.
Holding Hands is a simple gesture, giving one a sense of security, its an unspoken way of saying “Hey, I’m here for u!”
You’re probably wondering why I’ve chosen such a topic to ponder on…well the reason is that on this trip to Cal, my grandpop has been kinda down and out after surfacing from an operation n blah blah and this was a side of papa that I had never seen before. He was usually the big boss around (fondly called ‘Major Saab’ in our shop) but now things were different, he had become a little child again… he would call me every once in a while when he saw me and say “Penny baba come sit next to me”, and he would just hold my hand, and I don’t know how it felt for him but I somehow really liked just sitting and holding his hand; It felt nice and warm inside and comforting… I guess it gave him the assurance that someone was around and it helped me feel like a kiddo again and brought back those memories of him holding my hand and taking me with him every morning to the market and giving me daab pani to drink and every Saturday evening to church for 6 ‘o’ clock mass followed by a round of Bhelpuri on Park Street… here’s to holding hands… no matter how inane and childish it might seem, take some time out and hold hands once in a while.