When your grandmother falls sick and you stay back day and night to take care of her, you barely sleep, the hospital smell makes you flinch. But you know she needs you the way you needed her as a child.
You speak to her of matters in other cities. “Paati, you know Chennai is flooded now. They had horrible rains this year.” You have to divert her from thinking about the pain.
You help her walk, you make her laugh, you help her wash herself, drape the sari around her and comb her hair into a bun. She asks you to feed her. She calls you to her bed and whispers in your ears discreetly (though there is no one in the room) asking for Pakkoda, an oily hot snack.
She knows she cannot manage it to the bathroom without your hand, but feels bad to wake you up. She loves you. She wants you to sleep. You love her too. You sleep lightly because you are always conscious about her. Hearing the metal of her walker, you wake up and hold her up scolding her for not waking you up.
The world is beautiful in the way it bonds two souls. Even in pain, it shows you some eternal beauty!