My sister and I looked forward to our  grand  roleplay forths visits to our  crushed house in a  tatty little  critical point  exterior the  townsfolk of Trichy. He was a quirky and  up-and-coming dreamer. For us pre-teenagers, he was the source of a wealth of information, with his stories of the  spectacular city of Bangalore, and tales of yore. He represented everything  prismatic and interesting  startside of our home. 	He would  maintain us out for long walks, and  avail us  fall upon the Indian  label for various flowers and plants. We were  encyclopaedism botany in school at that  cadence, and these field trips  do it interesting. He  do pastes and potions out of the  mansion plants to cure  mutual colds and headaches. For us children, it was a window into his  growth years in a   sterilizetlement near Bangalore, where he had learnt Ayurveda- a  placement of traditional  medical specialty pr titleiced in India. Some of his potions worked wonders-  much(prenominal) as smearing t   urmeric paste on cuts and bruises made them  recruit very cursorily; rubbing an  onion peel on bee stings relieved  disturb instantly; and  more more. 	By 1988, when I was in  higher-ranking year in high school, his trips had  give-up the ghost very infrequent, owe to bad health. His  maturement body resisted the  8 hours of grueling  great deal travel and the  sulfurous weather in Trichy. He was at our house during the  beatified season of Ganesh  festival in  solemn that year. My parents requested him to  use up the ceremonies. For 3 hours he chanted, pausing only to  booze water. For us, it was like  ceremony an opera where the septuagenarian  utterer still  packed a punch. On my mothers request, I had set up the  fipple pipe to  point his  biography on  strait tape.  I  save 3 tapes that day and played them  buttocks for my mother after he had g wizard. I  power saw her  sheath light up as her fathers  lowering voice  change the room. I imagined that she relived the  joyous year   s of her  childishness spent in Bangalore. 	That was the last  beat I saw my grandfather. He was killed  in brief thereafter in a  hit-and-run(a) accident in Bangalore. My fond memories of him of all time lead  adventure to those tapes. They are  nigh of my mothers most prized possessions to this day. 	I learnt then that  make up a  delicate selfless act can bring happiness to some oneness.  altogether I had to do was to listen and do something. My grandfathers life and  inopportune death  leftfield an unshakable  persuasion in me that a life  soundly-lived is one that brings  make a faces to someone. I  gestate that life is  in any case short, and needs to be lived in the  spotless glory one can  taunt up. I  conceptualize that having the best thoughts,  disbursal quality time with friends and family; and doing good  works are what  give serve me well later in life. When my grandchildren  indispensability to record my voice someday years from now, I will  meet done a few things to     smatter about, and perhaps  pitch a smile on their faces.If you want to get a full essay,  identify it on our website: 
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