Like all the best families, we have our share of eccentricities, of impetuous and wayward youngsters and of family disagreements.

– The Queen, 1989

 

It was seven years ago, I chanced upon an opportunity to engage in an interesting conversation with my grandmother over a game of Dayakattai – a variation of dice game of sorts. Ageing in the 90s, she was an epitome of love, warmth and unwavering will. My goal was singular – to pick her brains about her upbringing, her ancestors et al. A pursuit of information gathering that I could chronicle and hopefully pass down the future generation. She was obliging to my relentless volley of questions. During course, I vividly recall, throwing a comment – “You were like England maharani for the family, weren’t you?” Her response was instantaneous. She quipped with a grin – “Where is Elizabeth rani, and where am I!” Colloquially, it meant the analogy I was trying to pitch was a sort of misnomer. That was my grandmother, whose life of 90+ years squarely revolved around her family, her duties, her principles carrying a frame of relevance all through. Grandma passed into the ages this very week of September two years ago. If her life were a painting, then the four corners of the canvas was her small world, her close-knit family and it was well primed with her sense of love and duty.

Today, we lost the epicenter of analogy that was a norm not only where I grew up, but in all corners of the planet. Her Majesty, who was the doyen of the Royals was revered, respected, and looked up to as an embodiment of dignity and duty. We ought to visualize Her Majesty’s life as art – the four corners of the canvas covering virtually limitless space, spanning four directions of the world. A canvas well primed with curiosity, commitment, and embracing change.

Seventy years of relevance
Seven decades of purpose,
A Platinum jubilee of grace.
Seventy years of wisdom,
Four and half Crystals of wit,
A Golden and half of regal.
As the final journey
begins in Edinburgh,
The Royal Mile is lost.
When it arrives at
Westminster Abbey,
London Eye is moist.

So long, Her Majesty.

Photo Source: Google Images