Melody
Just because your English sounds better, and when better equates foreign, and because your 'a's and your 'r's roll off your tongue with your privilege of having your grandfather's third language as your first language, doesn't mean that you mock the same grandfather of yours when he speaks broken English. When you were having the luxury of eating with a spoon and sleeping in a cradle, with curtains thick enough to not let the warmth of the room escape, it was only because your grandfather mustered up the courage, more than half a century ago, to board that plane to go to a foreign country to earn better and to give your grandmother and your father and his brothers a better life. What he did not tell you is the story of how he made your father and your uncles reach the position they are in now, where they can afford the luxury of a soft, cushion mattress , one for each member of the family. What your grandfather did not tell you that night when you mocked him for saying "zed" instead of "zee" is how , his co-workers did the same thing years and years ago, when he was alone, in a foreign land, with only so much money that you could only buy dry, tasteless bread with. What he did not tell you when you were felt embarrassed of introducing him to your friends is how he had to learn not only the rules of a new country, he had to learn an entirely new language and make it his own. How he had to take a foreign culture and learn to live in it like it was his own when he just wanted to pack up his bags and run back home, run to your grandmother and his family.
What he did not tell you is how he brought his kids up, in a one roomed apartment so that he could save enough for their college, so that they do not struggle without a degree like him. College is a normal thing for you, something that you know you are eventually going to go to, all thanks to your grandfather, when he asked your father to give up his part-time job and only concentrate on his studies. "Your father is alive.He will manage. You study." were his exact words to your father and his brothers.
You take for granted what was given to you through the blood, sweat and tears, multiple tears flown during multiple breakdowns during multiple times when he did not even have anyone to hold him and tell him that everything will be okay. That one day he and his family will have not one , but three houses, one for each son, that their grandchildren will speak English first and their native languages later. And nobody told him how his grandchildren might just consider him 'not cool' because of his broken English.
Today when he reads the newspaper in English , and he understands whatever he is reading , don't you ever forget that this is something he had to learn himself , in a foreign land. He had to learn the words, he had to keep a dictionary with him at all times, even when he did not have enough money to buy food because he collected just enough to buy a pocket dictionary so that he could make his stomach full , ease his hunger by pronouncing the words again and again and again and learning their meanings. His pronunciations are mixed with the luscious sound of his mother-tongue, and if it is not melody to you, you need to learn to listen .
Listen hard, to his stories, to the stories behind those smiles , those tears behind that full, fulfilling laughter of his. Go sit down beside him, and ask him about his childhood, and see his face light up with the stories of a glorious past he spent soaking in the sun in his father's backyard, swinging and running , jumping and dancing. Hear him speak his native language, your native language, and understand the beauty of those words which cannot be translated in English.
Listen to him. Maybe you will understand there is no one as cool as your own grandpa.
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