'The moments with Dadu are firmly etched in my soul’

Khilkhil Kazi

'I was very young when my grandmother died, and we had to bring Dadu under special care. I remember him sitting on the bed for a while or just walking around the household. I remember him holding the window rails, gazing up at the sky and mumbling something to himself. When I actually got to understand my Dadu and got closer to him, the claws of old age had already grasped him. Dadu was no different from a little child then. My mother would take care of his meals, bath times and all the other basic necessities.

'The fact that Dadu was a great poet of the nation struck me only at a much later stage. I remember people coming to our home in large groups, showing respect to Dadu with flower garlands and bouquets of rajanigandhas (tube roses). With age I realised that he was actually the National Poet of the country.

'I wish I had a chance to let him know about my childhood pride in him. I remember my father urging me to recite the poems Khuki o katbirali, Bhor holo dor kholo, Jhinge phul, Lichu chor and Dekhbo ebaar jagathtake in front of Dadu. Pride and grandfatherly affection used to light up in Dadu's eyes. I remember in school when we used to read and study Dadu's poems, I would rush home to Dadu after school, filled with childish pride and happiness, only wishing that he could speak so that I could hear him recite his own poems.

'Ironically, this great poet was unable to speak and express himself in old age. He would, however, convey what he wanted to through his facial expressions and hand gestures. As children, we would play in Dadu's room and ask him to keep silent and sit at one place so that we could run around in peace. He would comply with us instantly. One day, while my father was taking poetry and recitation classes in the next room, we were creating chaos in Dadu's room. My father got agitated and stormed in to ask us to keep silent and not to disturb Dadu. As usual, all of us rushed behind Dadu for a momentary protection. Dadu instantly lifted his hands and gestured him to go on with his work. "Let the children be. They are not disturbing me," he seemed to say.

'My only regret is that I could not be with Dadu in his last moments. And even now, I sometimes yearn for his presence, which, I know is truly impossible. But the moments with him--which I will treasure for the rest of my life--are forever etched in my mind and soul.'