A ‘cool’ but clueless grandparent

Nagaraj Thothadri

I strive hard to be useful and supportive of my family’s needs. I chip in with daily household chores, which include shopping, helping in the kitchen, driver duty and more. Otherwise, the consequences cannot be very pleasant for retired homebodies like me. Most of the time, I loiter around within the confines of the home, making sure that everything is in its assigned spot (OCD, you ask? Yes).

It was decided by the power-wielders at home that my duty would be to bring my grandson from school every day. While on this happy errand, my grandson and I had a daily ritual: he would gently steer me to a nearby goodies shop for all the delectable things he desired -- chocolates, chips, lollypops, ice creams and so on. My indulgent nature (please tell me, which grandparent would not pamper his grandchild?), coupled with a desire to be called a 'cool' grandfather, landed me in trouble. My grandson developed health problems. I was deemed the culprit, declared an utterly useless grandfather, and almost forbidden from this responsibility. Nevertheless, I have a dogged personality. Sometimes, I put up a pointless fight for equal rights between men and women. This sparked a huge ruckus, as the other senior lady -- my spouse -- joined in, making it a triangular fight. I was finished. In the end, I was told to continue with the job until a suitable replacement could be found on one condition: I was to desist from visiting the goodies shop. The shopkeeper looked at me longingly, disappointment writ all over his face, as if I were a spineless character. I feel sorry for him -- so does he!

After undergoing a spinal surgery, I had to take a long break from this duty. Once the mandatory recuperation period was over, I returned to fetch my grandson from the school, swinging a walking stick in my hand and with a spring in my step. To my shock, the class teacher standing at the school gate challenged me to prove that I was indeed the grandfather before she would hand over the child. I was taken aback – stunned by this affront from the lady, who looked at me with scepticism and suspicion! 

I pleaded in my most polite tone that I was, in fact, the grandfather of my grandson. The lady remained unmoved. She demanded that I produce the child's ID. Suddenly, a light bulb went on in my head. From the depths of my trousers pocket, I fished out the identity card and presented it with a triumphant smile, baring all my remaining teeth. She appeared crestfallen. Locking eyes with hers, I summoned as much courage as the moment allowed and asked her to hand over the child to my care. Beaming with triumph, I walked away with my grandson. On our way home, this time I was the one to gently guide him to the goodies shop-- and together we savoured the most delectable, forbidden chocolates.