The elephant in the room and Doreamon's magic door

My darling grandson will leave tomorrow. For the past two months he has been romping around the house with is great one liners that could solve any problem that came our way. His to infinity and beyond, or how about we, or why is this happening to me, kept us going through the difficult two months he was here and made cancer, chemo, side effects, WBC counts take a back seat. His hugs at the time you needed them most made everything possible. For 60 days the little bloke slept between Ranjan and I and having him there was the best cure possible for Ranjan's illness and my nerves. But tomorrow he will fly away and God only knows when we will see him again!

For the past days there has been a huge elephant in the room. No one has dared acknowledge it. Yet I know that Ranjan has asked himself the question. I can see it in his eyes that moisten a little when he holds the little fellow, or strokes his face when he is asleep or just looks at him in the surreptitiously while I pretend not to see. As for me, I have to rehearse my act that much more and not show my feelings while I mouth answers to silent questions. Cancer does that to you. Even if millions tell you they have made it! The elephant in this case is too big to get rid off.

For the past two months a pair of grandparents have been willingly compelled to watch a lot of Doreamon, Agstya's favourite cartoon for some years now. But this time he is four and a half and understands the story line. For the past week or so he has been asking me why we cannot have Doraemon's magic door that allows you to travel in space and time. You just pick it up and set it in your room and walk across and reach the place you want. Agastya would like one that would allow him to walk from his room to ours and vice versa. And I must admit I too want one.

But all we have is Skype and our crossed Good Mornings and Good Night as St Louis and delhi have a 11.30 hours difference. So the two of us - Nani and Agastya - have been working out how we will communicate, send each other kisses and hugs across the screen.

I know that in a few weeks, I will hear the I do not want to talk to Nani, the little fellow often says when he is busy playing with his cars or doing something far more interesting than talking to an old granny! Children have the ability to adjust to any situation in a jiffy. For Ranjan and I, it will take longer if at all. We will have to content ourselves with a glimpse of the little one somewhere in the background of a screen.

I cannot but remember my communications with my grandparents when I was his age. We were posted in Rabat I think and mama use to make me write a letter every week to my nana and nani. My English was almost  non existent and all my letters began with: Dear Nana and Nani, are you well or not. I use to get long replies that mama read me. We are blessed to have Skype!

I know we will miss Agastya more than I can imagine, but I also know that we will soon be overtaken by the strict regimen and time table that Mr Hodgkin's demands. But every morning and evening we will switch on our screen - the best alternative to Doraemon's door - and a glimpse of our beloved angel will help us ignore the elephant in the room.