My grandparents reached Delhi separately with their families in 1947, but their love story had begun long before that. Along with their stories, I have inherited a simple ring that spoke volumes of their love for each other.
My earliest memory of these idols is waking up to pitaji, my paternal grandfather praying to them every morning. The sound of his voice while he tended to these idols was so emotional and loving, that it haunts me till date. Almost as though it was a very private and sacred conversation between them.