Tag: grandparents

Cheeku’s Ahmedabad Diaries

Some chapters in life feel so full, so gentle, that you wish you could pause time and live in them a little longer. The past three months were exactly that for you and me, Sharva—a cocoon of love, laughter, and firsts. And now, as we returned from Ahmedabad to Tramba, carrying bags full of your baby things and hearts full of memories, it truly felt like we were closing a beautiful chapter while stepping into another.

These months at Motamummy and Motappa’s home were not just about staying—it was about growing, together. Sharva, you were wrapped in a kind of love that only grandparents can give. Every day revolved around you, and yet it never felt tiring—only joyful. Your Motamummy and Motapappa built so many little routines for you, making sure you were comfortable, happy, and always surrounded by warmth. From feeding times to nap times, from playtime giggles to evening walks—everything had a rhythm, and somehow, you settled into it so naturally.

And oh, how much you changed. From those tiny newborn days, you began discovering your world. First came the soft coos, those tiny sounds that felt like conversations from another universe. Then came your smiles—wide, innocent, and enough to melt every heart in the room (especially while looking at your passage plates and drawing room lights). Slowly, you began recognizing faces, responding to familiar voices with excitement. And one day, just like that, you rolled onto your side, as if to say, “Look what I can do now!” Each milestone felt like a celebration.

Your Motapappa made it a ritual to pick you up in the morning and play with you while your mumma slept a little and your motamummy did her work! He would take your out for evening strolls. Those quiet walks, with the soft breeze and fading sunlight, became your special time together. I could see the bond growing stronger with every step.

Your motamummy—her voice became a comfort you grew to love. She would sing poems and lullabies, filling the home with a calm, soothing rhythm. It wasn’t just music; it was love in its purest form! She would talk to you constantly and you would reply in your coos and babbles!!

And the most unexpected bond was none other than with your Mamu! Your mamu had his own little world with you. He would wait—sometimes impatiently—for his cheeku to wake up, just so he could play, talk, and make him laugh. The excitement in your eyes every time you saw him would light up the whole house. The way he talked about you like you were the most precious thing was so beautiful! And the way you laughed seeing him do his antics were his rewards.

And every videocall with your Mimi made you so excited but it made Mimi so sad she couldn’t be there with you! She couldnt wait to come back from Canada and hug you tight and spoil you like you were meant to!

The house was never quiet, never still. It was alive—with laughter, tiny sounds, soft conversations, and countless moments that stitched themselves into our hearts.

And while you were there so many of Motamummy, Motappa, Mamu and Mumma Papa’s friends came to meet you bearing gifts! Vidhu Masi, Sana Masi, Himani Masi all made it a point to come over again and again to be with you because your masis love you just like your mumma!

And then came the day we had to leave. Packing felt heavier than it should have. Not because of the things—but because of everything we were leaving behind. Every corner of that home held a memory. Every room echoed with your growth. The goodbye was not loud, but it was deeply felt.

Coming back home to Rajkot brought its own comfort. There was excitement too—you getting to spend time with your dad, being back in your own space, and of course, reuniting with Stella, who had surely missed her mom and her little human. And most excited are Dadu and Dadi who cant wait to spend time with their Sharvu!

Yet, even in that happiness, there was a quiet heaviness. Because some homes aren’t just places—they are feelings. And Ahmedabad, in those three months, became exactly that for us. This chapter may have ended, but its warmth will stay with us always. And someday, Sharva, when you read this—you’ll know just how deeply you were loved, even before you could understand it. And how, in those early months, you brought all of us even closer together.

Day 1 at Motamummy Motapappa house!

Day 2 in Ahmedabad

Making everyone tiptoe around you!

“Sounga to sirf Motamummy ke pass” Phase

Morning time with Motapappa

Cheeeeeku na Cheeks Khai Jauuuu!

Happy 3 months

Cheeku and Mamu

Motamummy, Mamu, Sana Masi and Himani Masi entertain me while my Mom is not home!

April 25, 2026
Motamummy’s House Rule: Baby First, Logic Later

One day, when you’re big enough to read this on your own, we want you to know something. Before you ever remembered anything, you were already the center of everything.

Motamummy’s house was a place where time moved slowly, arms were always ready to hold you, and love showed up loudly and unapologetically. It was you, your mom, motamummy, japa aunty, mamu, motapappa—and a whole lot of laughter wrapped around a very tiny human.

You didn’t need toys back then. You had people. People who made absolute fools of themselves just to see your eyes widen. We sang you the weirdest songs—songs with no tune, no logic, and lyrics that changed mid-way. Sometimes we sang about milk. Sometimes about your tiny hands. Sometimes we just sang your name like it was the greatest song ever written. Motamummy took these performances very seriously. You watched us like we were fascinating or mildly confusing. Either way, you stayed quiet, so we counted it as a win.

And oh, your expressions. You had this way of looking at us like you were already figuring things out. A serious face that made us wonder what you were thinking. A sudden smile that made the entire room freeze and then explode with happiness. Sometimes you made a face so strange that all of us burst out laughing together. You had no idea why—but somehow, you were the joke and the joy at the same time.

We didn’t just talk to you. We talked as you. In a deep, confident voice, we’d say things like:
“Relax everyone, I’m in charge here.”
“Yes motamummy, I know I’m cute.”
“Mamu, good effort. You may sing again.”

We gave you a personality long before you could show us yours. You were witty. Slightly dramatic. Very aware of how adored you were. And motapappa—oh, motapappa adored you in the quietest, purest way. Day in and day out. Holding you, looking at you like you were the answer to something he’d been waiting for. You didn’t have to do anything. Just being you was enough.

We talked about your future a lot. At motamummy’s house, you were already a singer, a storyteller, a traveler, a dreamer. Sometimes you were all of those in one afternoon. We imagined you laughing, walking into rooms with confidence, being kind, being curious. No matter who you became, one thing was always certain—you would be deeply loved.

I watched all of this with a smile I didn’t even know I was wearing, already saving these moments for later. Motamummy held you like the world could wait. Japa aunty stood close, proud and protective. Mamu brought noise and fun. Motapappa brought calm and endless love. And you—so small, so new—somehow made everyone feel complete.

Motamummy’s house wasn’t just where you stayed. It was where you were celebrated. Where your earliest days were filled with laughter, silly songs, made-up stories, and a family that thought you were magic.

One day, you won’t remember any of this. So we’re writing it down for you. So you know that before you could speak, you were spoken for. Before you could laugh, you were the reason we did. And before you knew what family meant, you were already surrounded by it—every single day. Always remember this:

You were loved from the very beginning. 🤍

Tummy time

Sleepy baby

Sharva becomes Sharvari

February 7, 2026
Loved Across Every Distance

This is something written for you to read someday—when you’re older and curious about how deeply you were loved, even during the moments you were away from people who loved you.

When you went to your Motamummy and Motapappa’s house in Ahmedabad for the first time, something quietly changed back in Rajkot. The house felt a little calmer, a little quieter. And your Dadu and Dadi felt your absence in the smallest moments and missed you more than words could ever explain.

They called often. Not because they had any questions —but because you were important.

“Is he awake?”
“What did he do today?”
“Did he smile?”

Every call was really just another way of being close to you. Hearing about your day, seeing your face on the screen, listening to your tiny sounds—it filled their hearts in a way nothing else could. They missed holding you. They missed watching you sleep. They missed the way you made even ordinary days feel special.

Your Dadi carried you in her thoughts all day long. She spoke about you constantly—what you must be doing, how fast you were growing, how much she wished she could hold you just once more that day.

And then there is your Dadu. He is never someone who shows much on the outside. Quiet, reserved, not very expressive. But with you, something changed. His love came out in little questions he asked again and again, just to know more about you. It showed in the way his face lit up every time your name was mentioned, in that big smile he couldn’t hide. I had never seen him like that before. You brought out a tenderness in him that words never could.

And when they both talked—almost every conversation came back to you. You were the center of their world, even when you weren’t in the room. From far away, they loved you quietly, completely, endlessly. Distance never changed that. If anything, it only made their love reach farther.

So when you read this one day, remember:
Even when you were at your Motamummy and Motapappa’s house being loved day in day out, you were never really away from your Dadu and Dadi. You were always with them—in their calls, their conversations, their smiles, and most of all, their hearts. You were and are loved more than you could ever imagine by everyone.

January 31, 2026