Like most children I found it difficult to believe that my grandfather had once been young. My earliest memories of him are of a ruddy complexioned, well built person dressed in spotless white dhoti and white customized kurta (which he took pride in washing himself even when he was past 80) with quaint golden yellow buttons strung on a red silk thread. He carried himself with leonine grace and regality. If anyone was to the manner born, it was he. His silvery white mane had a silky touch and as a child I would remember running my hand through his hair that was so pliant like fields of rice.
