photographs and memories

i don't have any photos with my grandfather. considering that i spent the greater part of my early childhood as his shadow, it does seem ironic, not to mention callous.
but theirs was not a generation for kodak moments. besides, he was most uncomfortable in front of a lense, if i remember correctly. in later years, the reason was probably that he hated having to dress up for such occassions. he was a slob - i inherited that trait from him. among other things.
so here i am - with only memories and no photographs. but i like it this way on most days. it becomes a matter of faith then, my ties to him. my memories - right or wrong- are all that binds us.
on eid days, he would wear his starched white pajama panjabi and crocheted topi - the only set he owned - and go to prayer. during the rest of the day, there would be numerous shutters clicking, but he would have already changed into his comfy everyday attires and insist on being photographed in the ful glory of his ratty clothes. we would give up on the idea, thinking: what's the big rush. we'll take a photo next year. there is plenty time. . and like that, years passed till time finally ran out.