'Jug-jug jiyo, beti'... who'll say that so lovingly each time, Dadikaka?
A completely unexpected joke each time - where will the 'each time' now come from, Dadikaka? And your infectious laughter?
Those wonderful paintings of yours - who will now paint them? That fabulous Hindi hand-writing of yours, that we so painstakingly tried to copy, the shuddha bhasha - and the values we imbibed in your presence....
That absolutely amazing voice of yours - really, the side of you that the world is usually aware of, and that youtube does have some bits of - where did it go now, Dadikaka?
Our earliest childhood memories are so wrapped up in your enveloping warmth - you taught us what unconditional love is. That we unconsciously imbibed and have hoped to have replicated. And more than anyone else, you loved this name we called you by - Dadi-kaka = Bearded Uncle.... Dad's brother with a beard.... One day, after a decade of having called you by this name, Ma tried her level best to get us to call you 'Uncleji'. She said it does not sound good to yell out dadikaka in a crowd, making everyone turn around in shock - to a figure who is so completely revered in public.
Uncleji sounds respectful, she felt.
'Nahi bhai!' you said (thankfully!).
'I will always be Dadikaka to my Munnu-Mitku'. And Dadikaka continued to reign as ever.
You brought spirituality to us - by just being you.
I know what you will say now... stop regretting. Look ahead. Jeeti raho, meri bachchi....
And I suppose we shall do so. Go on in life. Enjoying the silly and unexpected twists of life.
How many people are lucky to have had your electric presence in their lives anyway? To be touched by you in this lifetime, to be blessed by you... And to now regret that we did not meet often enough.... When did we grow up and become so preoccupied with our own lives, Dadikaka?
Tera Raamji karenge bedaa paar, udaasi man kahe ko kare, you sang this song that Bappa and you put together. Way way back in the 60s.
Bappa and you - that is another amazing story. Of how you met. Unbelievable.
Lots and lots of love, and eternal respect, Dadikaka, we adore you...
Abhi bhi yaad hai, woh butterfly
(Ah, Dadikaka, while the bhajans you wrote yourself were out of this world, your poems on us were pretty gross ... and you knew that!)