I remember the times she taught us - lots of things - simple things about good habits, discipline, to more complex stuff (Well, stuff that seems complex now, in hindsight) - stuff that we never thought would be so important in life...
I remember those - and appreciate how the little things ingrained over the years have made me who I am today - and I am proud and grateful that I have the privilege of being her grand-daughter.
I remember how she used to scold me for being forgetful and absent minded with school books and stationery. The way she disciplined me when I forgot to keep my bag and books at proper places.
I remember the afternoons spent sleeping next to her - she in her warm, soft cotton saree - well oiled pleated hair, and the soft touch of her hands as she ran them over our foreheads...
I remember her soft yet strong voice as she wove stories for us - stories of heroism - stories of Ramayan, Mahabharat, Krishna - stories of Aesop's fables and Hitopdeshi - sometimes stories from her and grandfather's lives - sometimes completely original stories too - extra-ordinary tales of extremely ordinary people. Stories that sometimes still resonate - that I can still recreate from memory when some DejaVu feeling strikes...
The times spent with her have the power to transport me back to childhood - instantly - and create a warm, soft, very very protective bubble around me - a world I can go back to, whenever the real world becomes a bit too much to handle.
I remember how she taught us to appreciate every day "poli + bhaji" for snacks after school and how "poha/upma" @snack time were "special" occasion dishes - and I can't but appreciate that wisdom - especially now - when eating out/eating special food has become so common in my life, that every day "poli+bhaji / varan+bhaat" seems like a treat...:-|
I remember the times she used to cook my favorite "Golyachi Aamti" - the elaborate way in which she used to make the dough balls and fry them (and I used to hover around the kitchen and wait eagerly to sample them) - and then make the dal to put the balls in.
I remember the spicy comforting aroma that enveloped the kitchen when she added tadka making the "every day" dal that much more special.
I remember the extremely hot, finger-burning "varan+bhaat" and the super cold dahi she used to mix together - hastily - lest I get late for school.
I remember her urge to make us drink buttermilk - every single day.
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| Ajji and I :) |
I remember the long iron scissors with which she used to ask us to cut her nails - how she never trusted a nail cutter - and I remember my apprehension and fear of hurting her as she insisted I always cut a little bit more deeper...
I remember how soft her hands are - just like wisps of cotton - and how she says that's because her आई used to put oil on them.
I remember her smell - warm, comforting - with a mixture of Parachute + Hamam + some kitchen masala.
I remember how her eyes light up whenever she talks about her parents - her childhood home - times spent with अण्णा (my grandfather), and the times मावशी, मामा and आई were growing up.
I remember her strength - strength of character - strength amidst all hardships life hurled - strength to not become bitter - strength to keep helping people - strength to not conform to society's views of things - of strength to bring everyone together - strength she gave us, just by being there - a rock solid support.
I remember all this - and a lot more - and pray that she gets well soon.
I love you very very much Ajji :)
You are my rock :)
PS: I had always wanted to write down the thoughts inside my head - ever since Ajji started keeping unwell - but could never bring myself to do it.
The other day, some writing workshop @office gave us this writing prompt - "I remember..." and I decided to finally pen down all those memories floating around in my head.
