05 February, 2010

"You must listen to me. I am the eldest member of the family. That's it."

I wanted to do a tribute to my grandpa (Lionel Morris Devasahayam) who passed away a week ago today. I've rambled on an on about who he was and how much he meant to me on my boring blog. You can read it if you want to. I don't talk about him much - I've only sort of hinted in one of my old posts. He honestly believed I was flawless - it's so very blessed to have someone who thinks the world of you. He would buy me everything I wanted (my parents had to work extra hard to keep me from getting spoiled. They failed miserably). I loved horses. I desperately wanted one. He took me to London Stores and bought me a wooden rocking horse. It was just an ordinary, orange (don't ask why they painted it orange), tiny little rocking horse. But I loved it so much. I suddenly, desperately wanted to buy one last year - one of those awesome Victorian type horses (unfortunately, they're over a thousand pounds).

My grandpa hated it when I got sick. Even if it was a mild cough or cold. He thought it was ridiculous that I could be affected by germs. Every time I coughed, he'd shout from somewhere "chæ". It's like an Indian thing, like aiyo or something. I thought it was hilarious.



He's take me with him for his Police Parades and let me wear his hat and salute at his officers. He got a medal from Rajiv Gandhi once. I think for years of service and also because he was Superintendent of Police at one point. He took me to all these events no matter how embarrassing I was. Apparently, I pooped in the ballroom of the Mysore palace and he cleaned up after me while my parents pretended not to know who we were. He'd stick up every doodle I did on his cupboard and he used to draw stick figures of him catching criminals for me. I owe a lot of who I am to him. Flaws and all. I'm so very lucky.

Ironically, his favourite food in the world is fish. He's never seen my character. He'd ask me why I was drawing a fish, something that was meant to be eaten.
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