Precious gift by a Preciuos Old Man

It was an important day of the year, the results were supposed to be out. Being the best student in the house(not the school or college) , I mean scoring more than my elder brother and sister it used to be more special for me. Its simple guess why I would get a lot of pampering specially on that day that made me really watchful for that day. The best part of it always used to come from my Grandfather whom I used to call Dada. He was a proud and humble man, a man of tall stature, know for his integrity, hard work and achievements throughout his life(they were really a lot of them). At the ripe age of 90(nobody including himself was sure of it and the estimate ranged from 85 to 100) he used to walk stiff straight, with all the brightness still raging in his eyes. Every time I cleared a grade and I used to clear them pretty well, he would tell every person known to him, with a lot of pride the exact percentage I got. This year was no different, as soon as I reached home he asked for the result glanced through it saw the percentage column first, then a quick glance at the break-up. “Shabash beta”(well done son) he patted me on my back, “keep up your work and bring keep the tradition of excellence in the family” with the tears of pride in his eyes. By tradition he meant about himself and his father, he retired as a principal of a school, which was one of those he had established during his career. People still used to call him “mastersahab” or “headmastersahab” by which they loosely meant “Principal Sir”. It was a common sight to see well dressed people coming from nowhere and falling into his feet asking for blessing such was his repute.
He quickly went to momma who was in another room “Dulhan(he used to refer my momma with that name) dekha tumne hamara pota first class laya hai”(see my grandson got first class), “get me new clothes I m going out to get him a bicycle” he said. Those words were like music for me I had been asking mom for some time for a bicycle to travel to school, I jumped with joy on hearing this. Mom quipped in “it’s not necessary to get him whatever he asks for you can get him something else” to which he retorted “I had promised him to get a bicycle if he gets first class and a promise is a promise”. Momma never had a chance arguing with him rather then to do what he asked. So, in 30 minutes dadaji and betaji(obviously me) were in the cycle shop. The owner knew him well show his regards “kahiye mastersahab kya kahtir karoon”(how can I serve you sir). “Imran, my grandson has got 60.07% and I had promised him a bicycle. Take him in and give the one he wants”. Many years have passed by, dadaji’s soul is resting in peace, I have achieved much higher percentages and bought much costlier gifts since then. The bicycle’s still lying in the store- room, as I’ve grown too old to ride such a small one but, those memories don’t fade. I would have never remembered my own percentage had it not been his rendering it to people with so much of pride. I still remember that gift and those moment of pride that I managed to give my people. So much so that my eyes turn watery whenever I write down one such sweet memory. I love you dadaji