Memories of Grandpa

Grandpa in his armchair
his whisky, neatly sipped
cigar perched on lower left lip.

He'd seen hairy times
in the 1947 Hindu-muslim riots,
as railway manager in Gujarat.

Once, someone tied another
to the train tracks to be murdered.
The train driver's life being threatened,
my grandpa took his place,
and though pelted with stones,
refused to budge that train.

After he was gone
I'd view the world from his armchair
I tell you, I can swear
I could smell his whisky and cigar