Revelling in the fact that we had internet, phone and TV after a 3 day hiatus, I eagerly checked voicemail. After sorting through cold marketing calls, a note from my doc office reminding me of an appointment, I was left with one from strange number from New York. Wondering who it could be I played the voicemail. “Hi! This is xyz, my father and your grandfather were cousins…” started the message. My mind juggled pieces of information from various corners to figure out the connection before the voicemail concluded leaving a number where I should call.
Putting the phone down, I felt a wave of nostalgic pleasure wash over me. We called him Chitappa because my dad called him that way. He would visit infrequently travelling from a far off suburb of Madras. Always immaculately dressed, his black frame giving him a scholarly look, he reminded me of my grandfather. One whom I held in great esteem and some one I was very fond of. I had vaguely heard of his daughters names all of whom were my dad’s contemporaries.
So, this morning when I realized I was talking to someone who knew my dad when he was little, it was bittersweet. I wanted to meet him and hopefully get a peek into a side of my dad’s life and my grandfather’s life.
The call also left me ruminating on how the old world functioned based on connections. I wonder if the same will be true 50 – 60 years from now when my daughters and grandkids will learn to unravel the bonds that bind me and not just my siblings but cousins twice removed.
Wishful thinking! 🙂