#495 Remembering Kuni Jeje

 Remembering Kuni Jeje

Source: Google Images

Recently my memory took me back to the days when Kuni Jeje was a part of it. Before I can write more about him, I’ve got to introduce Kuni Jeje to my readers. In Odia, my mother tongue, Kuni means small/young, Paternal grandfather is regarded as Jeje (pronounced as JJ). So, Kuni Jeje was my Paternal grandfather’s younger brother, my father’s paternal uncle. So, if you combine all the logic of the relationship and their way of addressing, Jeje’s younger brother was whom we referred to as Kuni Jeje.

Kuni Jeje lived in a village which was known as Ramakrishna Pur, located in Cuttack district of Odisha, India while I was raised in a joint family in Bhubaneswar, Odisha, India. He would often visit us with packets of cream biscuits, and savory eatables that we would not generally get to eat along with the harvest from our farms in the village. He would then take us, me and my twin sister, on a walk to nearby grocery stores containing a variety of biscuits, toffees, chocolates, and whatnot. I remember having given my choice to buy Milk Bikis when asked by him and some orange candies while restricting my other desire to buy the entire stock of biscuits in fear of being scolded by my parents. He showered his love, care, and affection on us and we reciprocated it by playing, talking, and narrating activities of the day.

We moved to a different state and could meet him once a year when we would visit Bhubaneswar during our vacation. We would make sure to visit our village, Ramakrishna Pur or if our schedule didn’t permit us to visit our village, Kuni Jeje would visit us with infinite love, affection, and a bagful of our favorite eatables. He attended all the important events in our family. He was present at my engagement and wedding to shower his blessings. The last time I saw him was at my sister’s wedding, but he was frail and needed support to walk. Due to old age, he suffered from Parkinson’s disease and lost his ability to recognize people. We would go to him and make him remember us, to which he would simply smile and acknowledge. I later came to know that he was losing his vision slowly.

I got the news of his demise last year and it was because he fell unconsciously hitting himself when going out to the washroom at night. He would generally call someone to help him with walking, but he didn’t do that night, didn’t know if it was death’s call for him. The last few years of his life were full of health issues, but he faced them boldly and his wish to live never weakened his physical strength. I didn’t get many times to spend with him, but whatever moments I have shared with him, will always stay immortal in my memory, and when I close my eyes to remember him, all I can see is his smiling face.

 

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Swati Sarangi

28.02.2024