My mother's father, who died three years ago, would have turned 100 years old on this day.

I have only a few memories of him, especially from the time of summer vacations in childhood. I grew up in a suburb of Mumbai, and every summer we used to take the train on a 24-hour-journey to Chennai, where we'd spend a month with my maternal uncle and his family and my grandparents.

What I remember the most is that he had an unwavering faith in God and an absolute acceptance of fate that I've come to admire the older I've gotten.

The more I see how little of life is truly in my control, the more I've come to admire my late grandfather's accepting, trusting nature.

Remembering him fondly on this day ...