Biography 283: Perfectionist.

 

Asha apa (Cousin) brought some jute and sat at the uthan (the Open common area between rooms). She held one end of the jute with her toes and started making something with her hand. I asked, "What are you doing?" She replied, "I am making ropes." I thought ropes could only be bought from the market. I didn't know someone could make them at home. 

Her skills surprised me, but that didn't continue for long. My grandfather noticed it from his window and told her, "That isn't how to make ropes. Bring it to me." She gave him the jute, and he started making rope. I don't find the difference, but I understand he is very expert at making ropes.

One day, my uncle said, "My father doesn't like anyone's work." Whoever tried to do anything in front of him said, "No, that's not the way. And then he did it by himself." My grandfather was a perfectionist.

I think I have that gene. So, to make things better, whenever anyone does something, no matter how much I want it, I don't say anything to improve it, no matter how bad they do the job. I always tell myself that I can't do it all; I have to let others do some, and everyone has different ways of doing the same job.

Biography 218: We remember him

 I asked Shafeen how much he remembered about my father. Shafeen said he didn't remember much, which made me sad. Then he said he remembered my dad used to take him to the supermarkets and buy toys. He also remembered that they liked each other very much.

Shafeen was 2 years and 8 months old when my father died. I was surprised that he still remembered him.

Biography 205: an experience with my grandfather (maternal)

 We used to visit Faridpur, where my grandparents (maternal) had a home. My grandfather asked me to pull white hairs from his head one day. I looked at his head. Most of the hair was white; there was no problem finding any white one and pulling it off. I started my hunting for white hair. My cousin Asha Apa (maternal) used to live with my grandparents and saw this. She came near me, blinked her eyes, and told my grandfather, "Oh, Shimul removed all your white hair, nothing left." Then, hold my hand and take me out of that room. She told me, "If you remove all white hair, no hair won't be left. So, just put your hand on his head, pretend to search and take off one or two, and tell him that all taken off."

I didn't like that lie, so I didn't say anything and didn't remove any more hair. I thought if he wanted to, then let it be. 

I realized that our parents often lie to us when we are kids, and when we are old, we lie to them, too. History repeats itself.

The box of rings

After dropping all the rings on the bed, Shafeen is using the box as a cap.

Shafeen put all the rings at the cover of the ornament box. The box is empty now.

Shafeen’s grandfather (maternal) had a hobby to collect rings. He had a small ornament box to keep all of those rings. My son liked that very much. Whenever he (my son) met with his grandfather, he (my son) asked to give him those rings. My dad had no option but give my son the box of rings.

After my dad’s death, I took one ring (my son’s favorite) from that box to show my son the collection of dad when he will grow up. Regret is my son won’t remember his grandfather’s love. He was too small.