I want to surprise my grandpa today. Every evening, we spend 45 minutes exchanging news of our day. He tells me what is going on around the world. An avid reader, he reads three newspapers daily — one in Bangla and two in English — to stay updated on world news. He also listens to the radio. I tell him podcasts are a new form of radio. He laughs and says, “Tultul, technology can be startling.”

Six months ago, grandpa was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease and now feels tired and upset after long walks. His movements are restricted. Baba says that grandpa was once a globetrotter. I looked up the meaning of that word: someone who travels frequently to different countries.

Painting memories

I find it fascinating that one wants to explore so many things. I like to splash colours on a canvas and see how they come together. Grandpa loves it when I paint the skies in purple, salmon, or teal. Ma says that is because Grandma loved saris in those shades.

Once, I asked him, “Grandpa, do you see grandma’s saris in my skies’’?

He smiled, “The sky looks prettier when it shows us the galactic moods. Nature shows us only glimpses of so many marvellous things, and the sky is one such element.”

In grandma’s voice

Grandpa loves listening to his collection of records. One of our weekend rituals is to identify the musician on the record he plays. Some days, we listen to Hariprasad Chaurasia playing the flute, or a violin collective sounding large and joyous; that’s Vivaldi, he told me. Another day, he played a recording of a lady reading short stories by Leela Majumdar. Later, he told me that it was grandma’s voice.

I have never seen Grandma, but through those stories, I felt as if I had known her all my life. Her soft yet commanding voice had a range of expressions — little sniffs, a dash of rage. Her lark-like voice helped me create an image of my grandma. My grandpa’s best gift to me was his travel stories ranging from the Kaziranga forest to Tokyo supermarkets.

Off on a holiday

Today, my winter vacation begins, and my parents and I are going to Kaziranga. I do not want grandpa to miss my adventures. My cousin is an artist who creates sound and visual effects. With his help, I have created a small video to be projected on Dadu’s wall and allow him a taste of things he is unable to experience in person.

I recorded the movement of the trains from the railway tracks and the cacophony of emotions from the fish market. My genius brother did the rest and asked if he could use the tracks for his multimedia showcase week in college. “Tutul, you will be a wonderful field worker”, he said, patting me on the back.

The images of trains coming from different destinations, the sounds, and voices from a busy station made grandpa feel as if he was a passenger inside the cabin. For once, I surprised grandpa. He was elated and said, “Tutul, is this your version of a record player? I must say it is better than the podcast you keep talking about”.

I was happy to see him smile widely. “Yes, grandpa,” I said. “But this is nothing compared to the collection of records and stories you have. I will miss you during the trip to Kaziranga. So, I wanted you to have a small adventure. I will ask our neighbour Rohini to set this up whenever you miss me. Once I am back, I will add some Kaziranga tales to this.”

Dadu said, “That’s wonderful, Tutul. Let us get it all recorded together so that, many years from now, you can still recall our countless adventures.”

Published - August 07, 2026 09:00 am IST