MY ROLE MODEL

DURING my school days, every Sunday I went for a walk with “Dada Abu.” That was how I addressed my grandfather.

This was the most precious part of my day. It was a ritual for us to go out for a morning walk at the break of dawn and try to keep pace with him.

“Why are you so slow?” he would often call out loud.

Slow?

This was the fastest I could walk. I was sure that if I participated in the walking race at school and could maintain this speed, no one could even come close to me!

“I am literally running! Can’t move faster,” I told him one day, completely short of breath.

“Ok, let’s take a ten-minute break,” he replied smilingly.

As I sat down on the park bench with him, I could not help but admire him, my idol.

He was close to 65, but had the energy that would surprise young lads.

His towering physique, the respect he got from people, his command over the English language (which was a rarity there), his penchant for leading a meaningful life, all this made him stand out in the crowd.

“What do you want to do when you grow up?” he asked.

I could see the twinkle in his eyes. This was a staple question for me each day.

And like all confused kids, I had a different answer for him every day. But he was not aware that today I was ready for this question and had thought of the answer beforehand.

“Follow your footsteps,” I replied with complete conviction. He was taken aback. He was not prepared for this answer. But I could see the pride swell up in his eyes.

“Do you really mean it?” he wanted me to clarify.

“Yes,” I replied shaking my head. He smiled back at me and hugged me tight across his broad chest. I could see his eyes moisten up even as he got up and spoke out in his deep voice, “Let’s inish our walk for the day.”

I smiled back and began following his footsteps.