He was like any other grandson who took his grandparents for granted and assumed that they would live forever. And when all that was left of them were photographs, fading memories and death anniversaries, he realized what he had lost. He never knew his father’s father, who died long before his parents probably even met. His widowed grandmother then focused all of her energies on her doting grandchildren. It never struck him as remarkable, how hard life was in those days, when his grandmother had 5 children in 7 years and travelled from Lahore to South India in train over a span of four days. Those were the days when trains didn’t have air conditioning, sleepers, cushions and pantry cars and when one prepared food for a long journey. She regaled him with all those tales of struggle but he only half listened, impatient as usual to finish his food and trudge back into his cocoon. She would tell him stories of how in those days women woke up at an unearthly hour to cook for ...