Small Town Girl

Maha shivratri just went by. It’s my nani’s bday. Well not technically but yea.
This post is in fond memory of her. I miss you nani maa. 

There’s a poem I’ve heard…
Wo Naani Kee Baaton Mein Pariyon Ka Dera
Wo Chehre Ke Jhuriyon Mein Sadiyon Ka Phera
Bhulaaye Nahin Bhool Saqta Hai Koi
Wo Choti See Raaten Wo Lambi Kahaani

Although my nani never narrated stories to me, (not that I remember), she definitely did amuse us with real life incidents. She was a brave woman who along with her children made it to this point in life. My maternal grandfather died at an early age. But my nani also carried with her memories of happy times, when the money and jewellery would be just lying about, cupboards full of it. There were personal godowns of dry fruits and grains. These were part of palatial houses with infinite rooms, marble flooring and plush interiors. Those “facts” were so difficult to digest they seemed like made up stories for they were being told to children who heard of such things only in their Amar Chitra Kathas and Tinkles.

“Nani na ghare jaayis to jaaddi thayi ne aavis” is what my nani and mom always used to say. It was true also. It was almost as if the visit’s sole purpose was indeed to fatten up the children. We had delicious food with loads of butter – the home made white butter that I so love (this can also be attributed to the huge dairy which my mama(s) owned – oh and p.s – its named after me i.e Apeksha Dairy). We also had an angeethi – the actual thing made of clay and it used to take ages to get heated up and then to cool down, but the result was fabulous tandoori rotis. Their cutlery and tableware included a lot of brass. I distinctly remember that I used to fight with my cousins over who would get to drink in the heavy brass glass. It used to take enormous effort to just hold it.

Being the only child of my mom (who is also the only daughter of my nani); I was always treated somewhat specially. As a kid I used to hate the regular stuff that all kids hate – veggies like Karela, bhindi, dudhi etc. but when my nani made it (using shudh desi ghee) the end results were so delectable that one could live on those forever. My maternal grandparents used to stay in Chalisgaon – the actual village which existed much before the glitzy Aurangabad came into picture, much before there was life on the other side of the highway, much before there was any inhabitation on either side of it. In those days all the neighbors had goats + buffaloes and tabelas! Almost all the houses were made of mud instead of cement (like my nani’s) decorated with the dung cakes that were so characteristic of a village then. Thankfully my nani’s house wasn’t a buffalo barn, but we sure got amused every time we would go from Kochi to Chalisgaon (the distances were so much more in spite of being the same physically).

I met her about 3 years back after she had recovered from her surgery (she had uterus cancer). She seemed to have recovered just fine and was attentive, alert, taking meals and medicines properly. That was the last time I saw her. Just when I was beginning to think that maybe my mother’s mother and I do look a lot more similar from a particular angle (seeing the B&W pic that hung on their wall), her death took her away from us. And the irony is that we were going to meet her but the day I started from Kochi in train was her last day. God couldn’t wait for jus ONE more day. :’(

She had been through much more serious medical situations before and had always made it. We had not even thought that cancer would result in catastrophic consequences. Yes, we tried all the ways to cure her but…  Such situations are so pathetic. When the doctors tell you that there’s nothing else you can do except wait for the person’s death, it is the worst feeling in this world.

My mom took it bravely and so did the whole family. After the cremation we all tried to concentrate on remembering the good times instead of weeping inconsolably. We even laughed. That was something I could not even imagine doing, given the situation. It is very disheartening to see how someone who was alive and well could turn into a “body” and then soon into a “picture”. I can never forget the way my mom used to look at her mom when she was old. It forced me to think in a particular direction myself and I knew that even though I don’t want to think about it, it’s a grim reality of life. When I look around I realise, we do have our hearts full. But full of the memories and of the love that she gave.

We miss u nani maa. 