He blows the trumpet for the Queen of Hearts

I’m getting a little obsessed about my grandfather’s “work”. He left for my uncle’s home again on Friday morning.
“Atta nightay? Zara thamba na. Mee pan nightech ahe” (Are you leaving right now? Wait a bit, I’m leaving too)
“Nako, nako. Mala khup kaama ahet.” (No, no. I have too many [of these top-secret documents that I must deliver into the hands of the senior citizens club president] errands)
I should probably explain that the distance between my parental home and my mama’s home is about one-and-a-half hour by road. He maintains an office at both places. You have to take the state transport bus, which is prone to breaking down. We prefer to drive ajoba or at least accompany him when he travels.
Which is hard when he slips in that he is leaving while having breakfast, after asking for more tea.
I’m considering following him around. Does he meet heads of state? Does he have a mistress? Is he brokering peace in the *Middle-East? Is he peddling drugs that improve memory? Is he a History Monk?
What does my grandfather do?

* Arabia is the middle-east from America’s point of direction. It’s to the west of India. So if you live in India (or anyplace not west of central Asia), it’s more to accurate to refer to it as the Arabian Gulf or Peninsula.

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