Happy Birthday to the Best Grandfather!

Dear Nana,

It’s been 34 years since you’ve been gone and believe me when I say this — it hasn’t been easy, even though so much time has passed. They say time heals, but in truth, time only teaches us how to live with the ache. The emptiness of not having you in our life hasn’t lessened; it has only changed shape. I wasn't even born when you left, yet somehow your absence feels as real and heavy as any memory could be.

When I was little, Mom used to point to the stars and say, “Mishka, that’s your nana. He’s looking down on you and will always be there to guide you.” I held onto that thought like a lifeline. I still do. I’m 33 now, but whenever I look up at the night sky, I search for the brightest star. That’s where I imagine you are, watching over me, steady and constant.

Sometimes when I’m lost, I talk to you silently, almost like a prayer. And though you don’t reply with words, somehow I always walk away lighter, with an answer, or at least the strength to keep going. I don’t know how to explain it, but I do know this: you are my North Star, my guiding light, and you always will be.

The other day, Mom and I were talking about you. We laughed, and we cried, both at once, because your name still does that to us. It amazes me how even after three decades, you continue to be so present in our conversations, our hearts, our choices. That alone is a testament to who you were and the love you left behind. You may have three grandchildren who never truly got to know you but believe me when I say this — we miss you every single day. You live on in us, in our stories, in our values, and in the quiet moments when we find ourselves wishing you were here.

Anoushka and I talk about you often. We wonder what you were like, how your laughter sounded, what advice you would have given us. Only yesterday, she told me how much your approval matters to her — that before making big decisions, she finds herself asking, “Would Nana be proud of me?” I do the same. It’s strange, isn’t it? To long for someone we never met, and yet to feel you so deeply woven into our lives. Would Nana approve? is a question we both carry in our hearts, and it guides us more than you can imagine.

Your honesty and integrity are qualities still spoken of in the family with pride. The stories about your kindness, your principles, and your unwavering character are passed down like treasures. We all strive, in our own small ways, to live up to you — to be even half the person you were. It feels like the best way to honor you.

Raghav, of course, carries your face. He is so much like you, almost a carbon copy. Every time we look at him, we are reminded of you — it’s as if you left a piece of yourself behind in him. He’s growing into a good man; one you would be proud of. When he was about 11 or 12, he once asked me if I missed you, even though I’d never met you. His question caught me off guard, but I smiled and took him outside to show him the brightest star. It’s funny — that star has become a quiet ritual for all of us. It connects us to you, across generations.

The bond you shared with Mom and Masi is legendary in our family. The way you loved them, protected them, and stood by them is something I’ve always admired. It made me long for the same closeness with my father, and I’ve worked hard to build that bridge with him. In the same way, your devotion to Nani has been a compass for me in my marriage with Anant. Yes, Nanu — you also have a grandson-in-law now. And I know you would have loved him, just as you would have loved us all.

You know, Nanu, you would have been the most wonderful grandfather. I can picture it so clearly — you spoiling us, guiding us, holding our hands through life. I think you would have loved us even more fiercely than Nani does, and that is saying a lot. We miss what could have been — the laughter, the lessons, the memories we never got to create with you. 34 years is a long, long time to miss someone. Sometimes, I don’t know how Nani has carried this absence for so many years with such quiet strength.

It saddens me deeply that I never had the privilege of knowing you in person. And yet, in some strange, beautiful way, I do know you — through the stories, the values, the stars, and the love you left behind. You continue to live within each of us, and you always will.

Lots of love, always,

Mishka (Your favourite grandchild — and yes, I claim that title proudly!)