Dear Thatha,

MOO.

Read the first email I sent ever. No subject. No Sender's line.

I clutched the landline receiver waiting for that familiar tone,

The never-ending beep of a dial-up connection gave way,

I nodded, to cue Amma to start the sequence,

The order of tones all too familiar,

It rang...

You picked up...

"Vandhucha, Thatha?"

"Vandhuchu, Arsa!"

I still can't quite believe that you're gone.

Beyond my emails.

Beyond my annoying Yahoo Chat Audibles.

Beyond our arguments on why I'm helpless at connecting your mobile projector to your laptop despite a degree from one of the most prestigious computer science institutes in the world.

My earliest and fondest memories revolve around you and your trusty Lambretta scooter, Thatha. I recall standing in front of the scooter seat, my small hands gripping the handlebars, as we zoomed through the roads of Thirunagar to pick up Chandru from school. The wind rushing through my hair, the sounds swirling around us, and the feeling of pure exhilaration from riding on that scooter with you are all etched deep in my mind. It was a time of innocence and joy, a time when the world seemed full of endless possibilities. Looking back, I am filled with gratitude and wonder at the simple beauty of life and the profound impact you had on shaping me into the person I am today.

"Madurai kaaranga ya naanga!"

Being born in Madurai, Tamil Nadu, is a source of great pride for me. The city is steeped in history, culture, and tradition, and I have always felt a deep connection to it. Your warm embrace welcomed me into this world; with your hands being the first to cradle me. Your influence runs deep in my veins, and I am forever grateful for the privilege of being your grandchild and the many blessings you have bestowed upon me.

It is with a heavy heart that I write this letter to you. Our conversation last week was about your inquiry into the visa procedures to come and see me graduate, and you were wondering how it would be different from your trips to Kuwait. I could never have imagined that it would be our last conversation. As I sit here, asking myself why I'm so far away chasing my dreams when all my ideas of happiness involve sharing the spoils with you. I can't believe I won't get to see you again.

"Namma Samayal, veetu ilai la. Thani rusi da."

I remember you being angsty and looking at that pocket watch I gave you to see if it was time for the next meal already. Food was a passion that you cherished, and it always brought you joy. Your peculiar eating habits; that transcend the ability to be captured in word... were signatures of what made you unique. I was really looking forward to your potential reviews on how I matched up to Aachi in the kitchen. Your passing has made me understand the depth of my fear for the mortality of those I love. But I promise to keep your legacy alive through food. Every time I cook or share a meal with others, I will honor the traditions you taught us.

Even though we didn't always see eye to eye on a lot of things... You were a remarkable person who left a profound impact on my life. Your perspective kept us grounded and honest. Your intention being our growth and protection. Your passing has made me realize the importance of cherishing the time we have with our loved ones and the things that we share with them.

As I sit down to write this letter, my mind keeps coming back to the last picture I have of you. In that moment, you were standing in the market, carefully inspecting each Vendaikaai to find the ones worthy of being in Aachi's famous Keerai, Morkuzhambu, and Poriyal combination. I loved capturing you in your candid moments, when you were yourself and nothing else.

It was inspiring to see the care and deliberate intent you employed in everything you did. Whether you were cooking Rasam-Maggi, tending to your garden, or spending time with your family, you always gave it your all. You had a way of making even the most mundane tasks seem important and meaningful. As I reflect on your life and the impact you had on those around you, I am grateful for the memories I have of you. You had a quiet strength and determination that I admired and hoped to emulate in my own life.

I hope this letter finds you in peace and comfort wherever you are now. I wanted to take a moment to express my feelings about not being able to see you in your final years. I know I didn't say this enough, but please know that I loved you dearly and always will. It is hard for me to come to terms with not being there with you in your final days, and for that, I am sorry. I wish I could have been there with you, to hold your hand, to listen to your stories, and to share moments of laughter and joy. But please know that even though I wasn't physically there, my love for you was always present.

"Nalladhu pannunga ra. Eppovaachu, yaarachu, namalukku pannuvaanga."

I want you to know how much your influence meant to me, and how it shaped the man I am today. Your unwavering love, your wisdom, and your kind heart were an inspiration to me throughout your life. Your stories about our family history, your respect for our culture and traditions, and your hardworking spirit instilled in me a sense of pride and resilience that I carry with me every day. You taught me the importance of family, community, and generosity, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

I know you will forgive me for not being there, but I hope to find that benevolence for myself. I will hold you in the highest regard; I see you as a being worthy of immortality, and your presence will live on in my heart forever.

I hope the roads in heaven are kind enough to you and your Lambretta; That's what I see you doing. Being an absolute rockstar on the road; under the speed limit of course, and with the belief that navigation should be done without technology. Travelling, getting lost intentionally and eating your favorite meals at roadside restaurants. And writing it all in your little red notebook that could spell the most wonderous stories. Rocking that helmet that you traded your cape away for.

MOO.

I'm sending you another one. Just to test if it all works. I'll wait for my dialed up connection to die before I trouble you again. It feels like it's going to be a while.

So you enjoy your cruising time.

Explore.

Eat your meals on time as you always do.

Cherish.

Be at peace, the way you have always deserved.

Rest.

With all the Love in the World,

Harsha.