My grandfather Madan Lal Datta, the eighth of 10 siblings, was born and raised in an Arya Samaji family in Sargodha, the City of Eagles (now in Pakistan). The first of his siblings to go out of the confines of his house to study mechanical engineering, he wore many hats through his rich life: RSS worker, freedom fighter, and deputy director of the Ordnance Factory Board of the Government of India before he retired.

Curiously, he also practised homeopathy. Completely self-taught, he explored the realm of natural medicine through books and journals. And when he went out to purchase the ingredients for the same, he always wore a black Nehru jacket. I have vivid memories of him returning home, his pockets full of white sugar balls that I would yearn to get my hands on!

My grandfather passed away early this year—I wear the jacket now. And putting my hands in the front pockets unfailingly evokes a rush of memory, the anticipation of his return, with his pockets full of sugar.

—Bhaavak Khullar, 28, New Delhi

Photo: Yukti Khullar
Featured in Harmony — Celebrate Age Magazine
September 2017

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• Crafted with devotion

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• When time stands still

• Wrapped in love

• Threads of memory

• Silver lining

• Sharing her ‘mettle’

• The family jewel

• Katy and me

• The whole kit