Walking down the path

He was waiting for me to unite. He was watching over me. I learnt from him the meaning of tender love, protection and care and what being partial meant as well. He waslked and i walked besides him holding hand and nagging and dragging him towards the direction of the stream taking its smooth and gently turn. He held my fingers tight sending across a sensation I long for today. If only I was as tall as him I would lay a peck on his cheek to indicate that i understood what went through his head, but I often did that when he sat down on his rocking chair besides the large window smoking his 'beedi'. He loved this beedi and smoked as much as possible throwing the bud out of the window where it lay like the various designs the bangles in the kaleidescope makes when given a slight jitter. I secretively picked those buds and sat beneath my bed to ravish what he lovingly puffed till the beedi met his skin and sent satisfactory aroma all about him. The distinct smell of the beedi still lingers in my head when I close my eyes and imagine him. My grandfather was a man of many airs and respected yet the most kindest soul I had met. He was definitely kind to me and I dont care how he was to the rest of the world.
He had left me at age eleven to blossom into a woman all alone. I missed him but talking about him at home brought tears to 'the mother dearest' of mine hence everything which included his name was avoided. It was suddenly at the bank I had an urgent urge to see him. Long dead he lay buried in the fertile soil of Kerala, become one with the soil which he and his ancestors served and worshipped. So, I walked down the Powai hill and stood in front of The Holy Trinity Church. Lush green with dedonia planted all over, colourful flowers and tall tress filled the premises beautifully. The name of the church was engraved in huge alphabets over the arch of the main gate. The main gate opened to a straight road leading straight to the church. The chapel and the Reverand's residence nested before the church while the church was towards the interior. The path was shady and a mystic breeze blew leaving a sense of peace and calm deliverng happiness and comfort to the wayward minds of people walking on this path. I took my first steps on this road and suddenly felt an instant desire to visit the cemetary. I asked the guard where the church was and he politely guided me. I walked praying in my mind that I may feel his presence and love again. I wished that the long dead souls may purify my spirit and the fire in me may be replaced by the cool water of the silent stream that flowed beneath my home in Kerala where I often dragged my grandfather. I reached the bend on the path that led to the cemetary and I walked. There lay a ruin behind the church which stood almost the height of the church building. It had trees growing over it and tall lush green grasses all around it. Lonely birds nestled with their young ones chirping and basking in the sunlight pouring from in between the leaves of the peepal trees growing on the ruined building. White butterflies flew about suddenly and filled the place with magic which only the fairies of the earth would have created. There was a huge pit dug up and soil was moved from in there to cover the coffin ones it was laid. I stood at the gate of the cemetary and wondered if I should go in. Everything looked peaceful and somewhere I felt that the souls had reached repentence and would have been purged with hyssop and unified with the purgatory part of the universe.
I turned for a moment and thought someone was watching over me. I looked around carefully around the green grass grown like the scandinavian grass and traced a man watching me. He was the same watchman who had showed me the way and was just safeguarding me from the dead. Only I knew that the dead gave me peace and took me a step closer to my grandfather.