A tribute to a one-of-a-kind grandmother

After a family dinner celebrating our 18th year of being successfully married, our daughter decided that Baskin and Robbins would be a fine way to end the day. Being a vegan I decided to stay in the warmth of our car as both members of my household, equally excited hopped off to choose their flavors. That's when I got the message, 3 simple words from my brother over What's app "paati (grandmom in Tamil) no more". Before you debate if Whats App is the right medium to communicate these matters, you should know my brother speaks telegraphically so even a face to face or an actual voice call would not have communicated anything more. This does not mean that his feelings could be contained in 3 words. He grew up under her care and spent the longest time with her and shared a special bond. So I know that there was more to it than the whatsapp could communicate. After all anyone who has been touched by my grandmother was going through a range of emotions and reminiscences as we speak and by God she lived for nearly 10 decades and active till about a year back so she gave us a lot to reminisce about.

Her name was Seethalakshmi but I have not heard anyone call her by that name. Everyone knew my paternal grandmother by name and she was addressed by her name, whereas my maternal grandmom didn't seem to have a name. She always was "amma" or "paati" and each grandchild attached their own prefix. To me she was "chetpet" paati, to another cousin she was "madras" paati, later in life she became "bombay" paati. She went where she was needed the most and in that process she acquired these prefixes. 

I was always intrigued by the contrast between my two grandmothers. My paternal one taught me to enjoy life - my interest in arts, movies, books were all kindled by her. She had a loud commanding voice which could sing melodiously and she kept the house clean, warded off unsavory characters but rarely entered the kitchen to cook for my brother and I. I remember her with dark hair which turned lighter as she aged and she passed away peacefully, ten days before my dad did as though she willed to not live to see that. My maternal was the stark opposite although the two of them remained good friends and shared our home peacefully for many years.. Always in the kitchen, creating magic even if she was only making tea, we looked forward to having her home as we didn't have to eat toast when we came back from school. I used to ask her if she ever got tired of cooking and she would be surprised at that question - after all with modern conveniences like fridge and a mixer what's the big deal about cooking! (She never graduated to a microwave). She moved in with my parents when my brother was born so she could care for us both and was instrumental in bringing us up, "training" my brother to eat bread (a substance she never ate) as she felt it was vital training for kids whose moms work outside the home in case there are no grandmoms to care for them.

 My mother's family rarely raised their voices, rarely yelled at their kids, were permissive in their parenting styles, treated their girls as apple of their eyes and all of that could be traced to my grandmom's dad. From what I heard her tell, he was "blessed" only with daughters and never once treated them as a burden - a rare thing for his time, and even in modern India. He was kind, gentle and raised his daughters with love and respect. The only mark against him was hurrying my grandmom off in child marriage due to the expected passage of the Sarada Act of 1929. That's one way we peg my grandmom's age. We know she was not yet 14 in 1929 and was probably 11 or 12 which would put her at 97/98 when she passed.

My memory is operating jukebox style once again and random incidents pop up. I remember her tell the story of how my brother as a toddler had locked her in the bathroom and how she gently coaxed the child to open the door for her. Her husband left her with no money when he was alive, but a financially independent pensioner when he passed on, so she had to learn to sign her name with his initial to collect the checks. She would practice writing the letter "R" on a newspaper multiple times, before she would be ready to sign the check. She was the first in our family to board a plane and I remember her jumping onto the escalator in her whole nine yards - a feat that my mom is yet to achieve. In fact I boarded my first airplane when I accompanied her to Bombay and it was comical to watch her tie the seat belt.When one of her grandkids needed to be treated in Pondicherry for a rare eye defect back in the '60s she relocated to Pondy with her son and grandchild for 6 months so she could be treated. When her nervous grandson called fearful for his exams she had wise counsel to offer. When one of her newly married granddaughters was facing trouble with her mother-in-law she went as an emissary to sort things out. When I delivered my child she was on the phone offering tips and recipes on how to deal with a gassy baby. When my cousin had invited a couple of teachers from London to spend a week with her in Chennai, my grandmother made them delicious dosas and coffee and hosted them for many days, all without speaking a word of English. The power of gestures, love and hospitality was all that was needed to communicate. I remember a cousin of mine telling me about his adventures in college all in English when she jumped in and said "if your dad hears about this he will have the skin off your back. So better focus on your studies"! Needless to say she left us stunned.

    

She never told many stories, rarely spoke about herself, but when she did it was precious. I remember asking her why didn't she go to hear Kasturba Gandhi speak when she visited Chennai. Her response was "who would feed the hungry kids if I am off listening to Gandhi". When we were discussing Ramanujam (yes the mathematician) she said she knew his wife and pitied her as her life was fraught with domestic difficulties. Yes domesticity was the name of her game, but in a different age and time she could've been a diplomat, a child psychologist, a marriage counselor or a world famous chef.

During her lifetime she lost her sisters, her in-laws and very soon she was the only one in her demographic still walking the earth among her extended family and friends. The loss didn't stop at her generation. She watched two of her children, two of her sons-in-law and two of her granddaughters pass away (feels like a nightmarish Noah's ark ) - some snatched brutally by accidents, some fell victims to cancer. I never watched her cry, lament or blame the gods (although I never saw her pray either). She took things in her stride. Towards the end she regretted being alive for so long. After all, her caregivers themselves were hitting their 80s and she felt a burden. But to me and to everyone who had known her she was the burden carrier, the one we would turn to for solace, advice, counsel and not to mention recipes. My daughter had met her once, but she benefits from her recipes everyday.
   

My grandmom along with my maternal uncles were instrumental in bringing me up. My mother was one of the first generations of Indian women working outside the home and without her mother and her brothers we would not be where we are today and I am eternally grateful to them. Even today as I see my mom try her best to offer any form of support we need I know where she got it from. I was sorry to hear about my grandmom's struggles towards the end, but am thankful for all these years she was with us and if my concoctions are even 1/10th of what she used to make I hope to pass them onto my daughter so a piece of my grandmom can live through her. It's been a few days since her passing and as I sat down to write this post I wondered why I felt the need to write. Yes it is a tribute to her but more importantly I felt a need to record her life in some way for posterity especially for my daughter to get some insight on the kind of person who made her mom the way she is, at least the good parts!

Today I say bye to you paati and this time it is just "paati" with no prefixes for a change, not because there is no place that needs you, but it is high time we learn to handle our lives on our own and you've earned your well deserved rest!