Usha Gandhi

Do You Know Where My Grandma Is? Usha Gandhi

At the Cincinnati International Airport I saw a tiny image walking along side my son pulling his load-happily. His bones were covered with skin. He weighted very little. And he was too small to be called five years old. It was obvious that his stunted growth was a result of malnourishment. That tiny image troubled me and got cemented in my psyche FOREVER.

However the very moment he sat near me that disturbing image gone astray. Malnourishment had not affected his spirit. His small carry on-bag was loaded with zillion of questions. His curiosity started fl owing out like a pious river Ganges. All in all he was a mascot of curious George and energizer batteries. His eyes were sparkling as if a pair of Koh-I-Noor diamond. His ear to ear smile connected two continents, India and America. As if someone waved a magic wand, the worries of this mundane world evaporated as if a water on the hot skillet.

Without any muss or fuss, fear or formality he jumped within me, sat on the thrown of my heart claiming its entire space. The tiny organ of my body released two tear drops; one for his past and one for his brighter future.