An Ode to Grandmom...

Lately I am missing my grandmother a lot. When I think of her the image which flashes in my mind is that of her toothy smile and hearty laughter.


She had tons of chutzpah and was not above using her status of an elderly to get her work done. Once, while she was bedridden, she asked my sister to sew a broken button on her sweater. My sister was busy with something and told her she would do it the next day. Obviously, Mataji, as we affectionately called her, had reached the end of her patience, came out with a killer, “Everytime I ask you say the same thing. You will not do your exam well, it you don’t repair the button today.” Mataji gave a hearty laughter as my flabbergasted sister got the needle and thread to repair the controversial sweater button.

It is sad that our relationship developed once she was bedridden and stayed in my sisters and mine room for more than a year. In such a situation she was by default witness to our fights and angst of growing up years. My sister and I used to love to sing and dance to popular songs once my parents left the house for their evening walk. Mataji used to love to be witness to these episodes of dance and music. Sometimes we would be fighting or were not in a mood to dance and she would repeatedly implore us till we would just give up. Many a times she was by default privy to things which even my parents were not aware of. Astutely, she kept these to herself (or so I think and believe. Amazingly, I don’t ever recall her sermonizing or giving a lecture or even churning out an advice on how to lead my life.

Unlike woman of her generation, she used to read newspaper, Punjab Kesari, everyday without fail. I still recall round black glasses, safely kept on a window rim near the dining table in a steel case. She would carefully open the steel case, remove the soft cloth cover and take out the glasses and would read the newspaper from one end to the other.

Very few woman of her generation had a life of their own but, to an extent, she did. Every evening religiously, she would walk down from her Hauz Khas residence to the market and after purchasing the daily requirements; a group of four very old women would gather in the park in the middle of the market and talk about anything and everything under the sun. Out of these four (or was it five, am not sure) there was an aunty, who would have a coke every day. Sounds unbelievable but its true.

Loved to travel, which again I don’t think not many woman of her generation looked forward to. She and my grandfather travelled with us till Kanya Kumari in a bus (no A/c, no volvo bus) and never once complained about difficulties and never ever made a fuss over eating south Indian food almost every day.

And yes, her fights with my grandfather or Baoji were legendary. Most of these so-called fights were non-serious and were a daily affair. In fact, most of us suspected that these fights were a medium to pass time rather than anything else. My grandfather suffered from swollen feet and was unable to walk much in the last years of his life. My Grandmother too had her own set of health issues but what was exemplary was her never-say-die spirit. She was smiling even on the last day of her life. Everybody realized that it was going to be her last day. I still recall the smell in the room--smell which forbade of death, which made me want to run away from the room, from the house if possible. She still called me and my sister near her and said something totally indecipherable. We just assumed that she was trying to bless us.

My sister and I were just told to watch a movie on video. Till date, I haven’t watched the blockbuster, `Naam’ because in between my mother came and informed us that we should switch off the television because Mataji was no more. We switched off immediately and I recall feeling highly uncomfortable and not knowing exactly what should be the code of behavior. Should we continue to sit in drawing room of my aunt or should we go where everybody was? How do you feel when your much loved grandmother passes away? I still miss her at times but at that moment, I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. All I wanted was the moment to pass, so I could go back to my normal life. Sometimes I feel guilty for not feeling anything at that particular moment…