Six Months of Grandparenting in the Bay Area: Lessons That Have Transformed Me

 #734

Samarth and Maithri. Feb 2026 Foster City. 

It has been exactly six months since our grandson Samarth—affectionately called Manikutty—entered the world, and just about 40 days since our granddaughter Maithri—our sweet Minikki—arrived in the Bay Area. One in Cupertino, the other in Foster City. For Lalitha and me, this double bonanza has been pure ecstasy. After decades of structured, self-focused living, these two tiny humans have turned our world upside down in the most beautiful way. For the first time in my life, I am spending extended, hands-on time with infants. (Shravan and Radha, came into my life in Ankleshwar ( 1993, 1995) for my fatherhood, when they were already older than six months.) Every coo, every gummy smile, every midnight feed has become a masterclass in living.

Here is what six months of grandparenting has taught me—and how these lessons are shaping me into the grandfather I aspire to be for Manikutty and Minikki right here in the Bay Area.

1. Unpredictability is the new normal—and I am learning to love it For sixty-plus years I lived by the clock. A rigid 3 a.m. breathing and meditation routine that lasted a full ninety minutes was non-negotiable. Grandparenting laughed at that schedule and tossed it out the window. Now I rise at 3 a.m. not for pranayama but to rock Minikki so Lalitha, Radha, or Eshwar can catch a precious hour of sleep on weekends. Do I miss my old discipline? Of course. Yet the warmth of a six-week-old curling into my chest fills me with a deeper peace than any controlled breath ever could. The pleasure of being needed triumphs over every lost minute of routine. In the Bay Area’s fast-paced world of tech deadlines and traffic, this surrender to baby time feels like the ultimate reset.

2. My “my way or the highway” era is over—and the freedom feels liberating I spent decades living in my own domain. Even as a teenager I expected the world to adapt to me; once I started earning, that expectation only grew stronger. Grandparenting has quietly dismantled that fortress. I now adjust my space, my tasks, my very rhythm to whatever the little ones need—whether it is warming a bottle at odd hours or rearranging the living room for safe tummy time. There is a small pang when old habits die, but it is drowned out by the joy of watching Manikutty’s eyes light up when I enter the room. The trade-off is not loss; it is gain. I am becoming someone who puts others first without resentment, and that shift feels like growth at sixty-plus.

3. From proud “Island” to deeply connected heart My personality has always leaned high “D”—dominant, independent, an island where people’s opinions rarely penetrated. Lalitha knew this well; even she was kept at arm’s length in many ways. Today, when I am back in India, a single missed video call from Manikutty leaves an aching void. Here in Foster City, stepping out for groceries, I catch myself rushing back because Minikki’s face occupies my mind. The human heart, I have discovered, is astonishingly elastic. What I once dismissed as unnecessary emotional clutter has become my daily oxygen. Grandparenting did not weaken my strength; it opened doors I never knew existed.

Budding Rose and an Old Oak. (Feb 2026, Foster City).

4. Pure, unfiltered love looks like baby drool on my cheek There is a particular bliss when Manikutty leans forward and plants a wet, saliva-laden kiss on my face or applies load of Saliva on my beard. Six months ago I would have recoiled if anyone dared such intimacy or even intrude in to personal space without invitation—even Lalitha in non-intimate moments. Today I lean in, laughing, because this is love in its rawest, most innocent form. No judgment, no agenda, just pure connection. That single act symbolizes everything grandparenting has unlocked in me: the willingness to receive affection without walls.

5. A new purpose has replaced the quiet question “What next?” Life had begun to feel like a long, steady plateau. With Manikutty and Minikki, the horizon suddenly sparkles again. I now have concrete goals: to be their gentle guide, to adapt to their emerging personalities, to help shape them into kind, curious, resilient humans. I want them to inherit the best of our Indian roots—respect, discipline, family loyalty—while thriving in the Bay Area’s culture of innovation and openness. I see myself reading board books in two languages, pointing out airplanes over Foster City lagoon, and later taking them to the Computer History Museum or the Peninsula Heritage Center of India so they grow up proud of both worlds. The future feels purposeful again.

6. Becoming the grandfather my own grandfather was to me My paternal grandfather (1900–1995) remains my gold standard. Among his dozen grandchildren, I was his favorite. He showered me with love, affection, support, teaching, care, compassion, empathy, and wise counsel. Thirty-one years after his passing, I still miss him. Now I want Manikutty and Minikki to feel that same unconditional presence from me. I want them to remember Grandpa as the man who always had time, who listened without rushing, who told stories of his own childhood in India while walking the shoreline trail in Foster City, who celebrated their smallest milestones as if they were miracles.

Additional Gifts I Want to Give Them in This Beautiful Bay Area To be the grandfather they deserve, I am planning in times to come, adding layers that this region uniquely offers. Early morning stroller walks along the Foster City lagoon have to become our ritual—watching egrets rise, feeling the breeze off the bay, teaching them (even at this tender age) to notice beauty in nature.

I am learning to blend my old high-D drive with new patience—sitting on the floor for their tummy time without checking the clock, singing lullabies mixed with English nursery rhymes. I support their parents without interfering, offering help so Radha and Shravan can breathe. I model wellness by doing light breathing exercises with them on my lap, turning my old discipline into shared joy. Most importantly, I am present—fully, joyfully—because I now understand that time with grandchildren is the most precious currency.

Six months in, I am no longer the same man who boarded the plane to the Bay Area for visits, from Bangalore. The rigid schedule maker has become a flexible playmate. The island has grown bridges of love. The man who once wondered “what next” now wakes up with purpose. Every sacrifice feels like investment; every interrupted night feels like privilege.

To my fellow grandparents—whether new or seasoned—here is my simple message: let the little ones rearrange your world. The joy that rushes in will make every change worthwhile. Manikutty and Minikki, your Grandpa is here, learning, growing, and loving you more each day. The best chapters are still ahead, and I cannot wait to write them with you—right here in this wonderful Bay Area, we now call home together.

Enjoy the time. Karthik.

3/3/26 1310Hrs PST.

Foster City CA