In this post I'm going to recount a few fond memories with my paternal grandfather, Babaji. Most of these are of the time when he used to pick me up from school for a few months in fourth grade. He used to pick me up from the front field of our school and we walked back to the car, often holding hands. I often found a small stone to kick along the way. In the car, there would be always waiting for me a pillow and a bottle of cold water. It felt no less than luxury. He asked me eagerly what I learned in school. I remember one time I told him I had learned a new word- unique. He asked me what it's meaning was and I said different. But that's not an exact synonym, and he explained the nuance in the different meaning of the two words. I remember, earlier he had explained to me the same way how the Hindi words बाल and केश differed from each other. Since he used to pick me up from the field, where a lot of my classmates were waiting to be picked up too, I often asked them how ol