There she goes

Another chapter closed. No, this does not summarise the life of my grandmother. But, when she passed away, that is all I was thinking, that I am yet to hear so many of her stories. Unlike with my grandfather, who shared stories about his younger days or days when I was not around, my grandmother rarely did share. She used to live too much in the present or maybe in the future, but never in the past, unless it was about remembering who wronged her or who failed to give her what she wanted or where her money went. With her, it was always about what to do now or tomorrow. She never did spend much time crying for something or someone, unless what was required of her for the sake of the societal norms and expectations. In her own unique way, she was expressive of her love for her husband and children, but if she had to pick between doing things herself and being dependent on anyone, she would always opt for the former, except when at the fag end of her life she had to depend on someone for everything and even then she made sure that the help was always happy with her, again to the extent that was required. Never more, and maybe at times less.

I know I am making her sound cold, but I realize now that she was what she was. She kept up appearances for appearances sake, and did what she wanted in the secrecy of her life. She showed her true self to everyone, just not collectively to a crowd or openly. On individual level, everyone knew her for what she was and she gave two paisa for their opinion of her. As far as she was concerned, as long as she got what she wanted and by whatever manner, including emotional blackmail, cajoling, getting angry, stomping her feet, being religious or as in later years when even that pretence was discarded, all was right in the world.

She had a habit of humming. Constantly humming. Now that I think about it, one hums’ usually when one is happy, and so she must have been happy a lot. I was mostly my grandfathers daughter as opposed to hers. She and I went through a phase where whenever I looked at her I saw anger towards me. I kept wondering what I did, but I was scared enough never to seek an explanation. In later years, when I was older and was in one of those categories of persons who were beneficial to her, I even called her out – as to how she used to favour her grandsons and not granddaughters, but to no avail because by then I was useful to her and she, the ever practical Amma of mine, knew better to admit and incur possible withdrawal of benefits than be honest or maybe even care to remember what the past anger was about. But in the same breath, I remember this one particular time when my parent left and I was particularly feeling angry at them for leaving me and insecure because I was left under the care of my aunt, that she and chachi were around to comfort me, to tell me that even though my parents were not around, they were to take care of me. I remember that time when i got hurt on the forehead and she rushed me to the doctor, how whenever I fell sick, she was the first one to take me to the doctor closer to home, how she made me eat all that doodh-feeni when i was sick (and whereafter i fell even more sick because of that very doodh-feeni).

Try as I might, I cant think of more incidents with her. I remember her being vain, not that there was anything wrong with that, just something opposite to what I am. I remember her sitting all day in the sun out on the porch in the winter months. I remember how hot she felt in summer months. I remember clearly her declining health and am thankful that for some reason I visited home more in the past few weeks than I had ever done since moving to this town. I am glad I could sit next to her for some minutes just stroking her hand and forehead while she slept on my lap.

Whatever she may be, she was the one constant of that house, of my childhood, of my life back home, who is no more there for me to hold on to. Life back home still moves on, without the one constant, with few remnants of her day-to-day necessities, those things she held dear to her, all left behind along with her family.