My Dadaji was one of the strongest men I knew. He migrated from a small village in Rajasthan to Jaipur to build a life for his kids. He served as an IPS officer for most of his life, which meant he had to move between many cities in Rajasthan. One of my fondest childhood memories with him was traveling with him to different cities in Rajasthan, where he'd make sure I got everything; piano lessons, enough people to play cricket, and my favorite dish at every single meal. We'd watch the Ramayan and Mahabharat series on TV together for months, eating bhindi every single day. He'd teach me the Hanuman Chalisa or tell me stories about the gods from the Gita. I've never seen anyone as devoted to God as he was.
He wouldn't leave any stone unturned for me. If I wanted to see a movie, he'd take me. If I wanted to visit a temple, he'd take me. If I wanted to hang out with him at the police station, he'd take me. If I wanted some books, he'd buy them for me.
Back in 2016, Dadaji, Dadi, and I (just the three of us) went on a trip to see various parts of India; Darjeeling, Kolkata, Guwahati, Cherrapunji, and others. It was quite a trip; he finally let me take care of him. otherwise, his ego was usually too big to let anyone do that. Even at that age, he was devoted to show the world and God to his grandson. He lived his life with great joy, but what he loved most was taking care of his grandchildren, even more than his own kids.
I still remember the letters he used to write to me when I was in college, asking whether I was eating eggs and whether I was focusing on my studies. He loved me more than anything else in this world. Maybe I should have been better then, and more timely in writing letters back to him. It's hard to believe he's gone. His memory wasn't sharp at the end, and he had trouble remembering most things, but he still remembered me, my name, which meant the world to both of us. I'm sad that he's gone, but I'm happy he's finally resting in peace and not living a life of suffering. I'm going to miss him a lot.