AN AGE-OLD BOND

Growing up I didn’t have any of my own. So I found one. A grandmother, that is. I saw her at a bus stop. I was just out of college, confident – overly so in fact. She was soft, fragile, wrinkled, almost cotton-candy like. Wrapped in a crisp cotton sari, her sparkling silver hair pulled into a neat tight bun, she was wearing slippers adorned with way too much bling. I saw them and smiled. ‘A gift,’ she said, catching me in the act. I nodded, slightly sheepish. ‘Do you live around here?’ she asked. I nodded again. ‘It’s my first time here,’ she said. ‘Know the language school around the corner?’ she continued, seeing the curiosity etched on my face. ‘What do you teach?’ I asked, finding my voice. ‘Ask me what I learn,’ she said with a laughter that was full-bodied and fully carefree. In that one moment, I think my world stopped revolving around its axis. Her humility humbled me and her courage left me overawed. I was in love with her. ‘Sanskrit. I’m learning Sanskrit,’ she replied to the question mark on my face. ‘Why Sanskrit,’ I asked. ‘Because I’m told it is a difficult language to learn,’ she said. ‘And I love challenges.’ We spoke some more. Moments later she was gone, never to be seen again. I guess I could’ve found out how she eventually fared by visiting the school she went to. But I didn’t want to. I just wanted to hold on to that serendipitous moment we shared. Pure and forever mine.

Learning is an attitude, life a lifelong lesson, and you will never be learned enough. My bus-stop grandma taught me that.

And to know how grandparents in the UAE continue to be an important part of their grandkids’ lives, read the feature #Grandparents matter, on

Until next week,