"Amma " - my memories

I have tried to represent this special woman but I can never do justice.

 

In those days an Indian woman in order to be termed beautiful had to be petite and fair and have soft fragile looks, large doe eyes with a demure and defenseless gaze, sharp nose, small shapely fingers and feet. This woman was one who was adventurous and had a rebellious spirit and couldn't be tied down to patterned routines. She was tall, healthy, strong and far from fragile. She was sharp and straight spoken and had a mind of her own. Very often she was caught walking on the parapets or was off on her own expeditions when the women of the house were lost in afternoon siesta. She played with the boys and spoke of her bohemian ideas.

 

Her carefree childhood days were not destined to last very long as early marriage was the lot of women then. She was hardly fifteen when she got married. When she came in as a bride there were murmurs of disapproval. She wasn't the tiny, pretty good little bride they were expecting. She faced adverse comments but her spirit never faded. They weren't capable of appreciating her bright intelligent looks, her straight tall frame. She enjoyed good food and people were shocked as the new bride was expected to peck at morsels.

 

Her husband however was really taken up with her and indulged her tantrums. He was not very ambitious but he was inordinately loving, and accepted her whimsicalities and mood swings. This was one quarter where she never had to fear lack of acceptance.

 

She got embroiled into the vortex of family life. There were the daily chores and the social duties. She did it all but always had to suppress the beckoning of her spirit of adventure and her wanderlust. Her children were born and she had her dreams in place. They were not going to lead run of the mill lives. Once she found her voice of protest,after the initial years of being subdued in her role as a daughter in law, she put her foot down. She ensured that her sons did not take up clerical grade jobs and went beyond her means so that they studied to be an engineer and a chartered accountant. She was very ruthless and disregarded all opposition in this. She also ensured that her daughter would be allowed to study as much as she desired.

 

She lived in a conservative joint family. A woman in those days in a typical traditional Bengali family was quite confined. She inspired her sisters in law to accompany her on adventures. She planned escapades to a movie or an outing which was quite a blasphemy then. Evenings she got together with them and spent time chatting and relaxing, away from the pressing worries of her family life.

 

She actually went off to Varanasi alone and spent time there wandering about the familiar streets and river banks and temples whenever she could .It was her favorite destination since childhood and her family had a huge mansion there. They often spent their vacations in that quaint city. As a child I remember I had made trips to Varanasi along with my family during her stay there. It would be during my winter vacations and she took me for walks along the serpentine lanes and antique neighborhoods of the city and showed me objects of interest and bought me the delicacies the city was famous for. She was hell-bent on making at least one trip a year to some outstation destination and if her husband was unwilling she would go alone. She had a very strong personality and once she was decided there was no way she could be dissuaded. He husband wanted her to be happy and never had the heart to stop her.

 

She loved going for drives and made it a point to get on to the car whenever she could. In her early years she could never afford a car. Later when her sons got established in life she never missed an opportunity to go for a drive just accompanying people when they were getting dropped or picked up. In her later years when her health was failing and she had a pace maker installed she would be discouraged from just sitting in the car as it would be strenuous for her but she was adamant.

 

She was diabetic and a heart patient and had had major operations. She couldn’t give a damn. She liked living life on her own terms. She didn’t always have the means at her disposal and thus there was this deep rooted dissatisfaction and suppressed unrealized ambitions that never allowed her to be totally happy. She read a lot, all kinds of books and magazines, watched television. Yet towards the end her eyes had deteriorated due a problem in the retina which was irreversible. She gave it all up and became rather quiet and lonely.

 

She was an excellent cook and made great pickles and sweetmeats. She was a great tailor too and stitched exquisite dresses. She was good at embroidery. However she enjoyed doing all this only if it was of her own volition. She hated being compelled.

 

I used to be scared of her as a child. She had curly hair and large frame with a towering personality and if she dilated her eyes and asked my mother whether I was giving any trouble I would shiver. She didn’t match the image I had of a grandmother as I saw in others. She didn’t have that benevolent indulgent presence.My sister was a little menace, fair, plump,cutely naughty with two pony tails and she was her pet.I thought I wasn't a favorite. Then I don’t know when I began to bond with her. She read me stories, told me about interesting incidents of her life, her secret dreams and unfulfilled desires and aspirations. She gave me a glimpse into her vision of life. She told me how she had faced the death of one of her sons who I hadn’t seen and her second born infant. I recognized her strength, her will power, her streak of independence and her sense of self respect and dignity. She was never happy with mediocrity and that element of dissatisfaction never allowed her to rest in peace. She was ambitious and she never really got to spread her wings confined in her social constraints. She called me “shona” and I called her “Amma”. She had special nick names for each of her grandchildren.

 

She had distinctive taste and was particular about her clothes, her bed sheets, her brand of soap and perfume concentrate which we call “atar” and the fragrance she loved was “khus” an oriental delicacy. She was particular about her spectacle frame and the silver key ring she used and regular wear jewellery. She was very finicky about personal hygiene and bathed very early in the morning and had a wash to refresh herself in the evenings. She was never overtly religious but she did her mantra chanting every morning and lit incense sticks in the evening at the prayer room. Towards the end she seemed to have lost interest in all this.

 

She was very good at nursing and never lost her nerve in the face of illness or accidents. She gave me such invigorating hair oil massages and whenever I had a cramp or an ache she was the one I rushed to for a quick relief as she could do magic with her hands and made the pain go away. She was a treasure house of home remedies for common ailments. Yet towards the end she had lost her grip.

 

She was often misunderstood and her inability to pursue her dreams made her bitter at times and her ambition found expression through wrong channels but her ability to protest and her independence was undaunted. She also had this great spirit of inquiry and wanted to know things. I remember once we had gone to “Belur Math” ( A monastery cum temple under the Ram Krishna Mission) with the entire family. I was with her as she was strolling around while the rest of the family was in the temple. She had found a blind couple and she tagged me along to their place as she was curious to see how they led their lives in their world of darkness and how they used brail texts and wrote on brail type writers. We got so engrossed that we were pretty late in returning. The entire family was frantic searching for us. I got quite a scolding but it was an experience of a lifetime. In college I remember she had accompanied me to a home for autistic children which I used to visit. She was so happy to spend time with them and gave so much of her self. Her nagging discontent didn’t allow her to be happy always and it was one of those rare occasions when she smiled so freely.

 

She loved me a lot and gave me free access to her room and her world. She let me use whatever I wanted and the hesitation that others felt while approaching her was never my lot. She had in fact come over to my house to spend a few days with me quite a few times and she freely unleashed the child in her with me.

 

When my dear Dadai (grandfather) passed away she was stoical. He had loved her so unconditionally and had never tried to chain her spirit He wasn’t perhaps always able to live up to her expectation in terms of achieving things in life but he never held her back. He was at her side and anxious to see her smile. He didn’t have the means to indulge her fancies all the time but he stood by her and they had been married for over 50 years. He died very peacefully and it was rather sudden. We were all very shattered but she said that she was glad that his end was so dignified and he went off like a king mourned by loved ones. She missed him a lot I know after 50 years of companionship but she didn’t complain.

 

No amount of pain or suffering could make her whine in agony and she faced all her illnesses and surgeries with a strange stoicism treating the visit to the hospital as an outing and a break from monotony.

 

At the end when she had to be hospitalized however the suffering was too much. There was a wedding in the house and her condition was precarious. Her organs and faculties were failing and she had to undergo dialysis but she bore it all. None of the festivities were interrupted. My brother’s wedding was on 23^rd of January and the reception on 25^th.Her condition was precarious but she saw us through it all. On 4^th February I went to the nursing home after quite a few days and saw her enmeshed in tubes and her eyes shut. My uncle held her hand and she recognized the touch even in that stupor and said whose hand it was. I saw him looking at her with despair knowing that she would be gone. Yet we wanted her to be freed from suffering. It was difficult to hold back tears seeing her like that. On 5^th February 2007 afternoon she slipped away quietly into oblivion.

 

 She used to argue with me that there is nothing after death. It is just like extinguishing a lamp, the flame is gone and all that remains is darkness. There is nothing left of the flame which is equivalent to life. But I refused to accept that. I believe that the loved ones who die are there somewhere in some realm. At least Amma lives on in my spirit and love for individual liberty. My father has her quiet stoicism and determination.

 

In the last year or so I had neglected her as she had become a shadow of her former self and a little senile. I did not spend much time with her and she had been a bit lonely. We used to get impatient with her repeating the same thing over and over again. When she left us I went and sat on her bed and I looked around her room and I wanted to say sorry but she wasn’t there to hear me or was she? Maybe she did understand. Maybe she forgave.

 

She was ahead of her times maybe she will come to this world again in a different milieu and get the opportunity to realize herself and live her dreams.

Author's Note

She is my grandmother( paternal) and we shared a special bond that lives on beyond mortality.There are glimpses of my dear grandfather as well and his inordinate love and unobtrusive presence.

Reviews

[Emily B]

This story was a blessing. I've read so often of the fate of young brides in your country. To know of a strong tall woman who accomplished so much. . . is beyond awesome.

I wouldn't worry about your separation from her in the end. It is part of life, you know. The aged let go of their loved ones little by little in preparation for what comes next. We just spend less and less time, I believe it's a natural transition for what is to come. She knows.

[Pitta S Dev]

Amazing.......

[Carole]

I really enjoyed this tribute to your Grandmother, Raj. You provided us with plenty of detail. What a tribute to your "Amma" written by her awesome Granddaughter, "Shonna!" She must have been an incredible woman, and from your story of her, she no doubt was just that! Well done. Thanks for sharing!

[laceyjane23]

Very nicely done! You really show that no matter what culture a person is from, they still have a burning desire to be their own person. I'm sure your grandmother would be so proud of you for writing such a wonderful story!
laceyjane

[Crystal Mullings]

This is a beautiful story and a great way to recognize your grandparents impact on your life. Amazing!

[Nicholas Hallows]

Wow! This is a great portrait of someone very special to you. A very strong character and pioneer that really shows in your writing. Even if there is no other world after this one, she definitely lives on here. You capture her spirit and the journey she took through life exquisitely. Very well done! NH

[Bhavya Kaushik]

This piece reminded me of my grandmother and as an Indian I could relate myself with this piece very deeply..
This is really one of the best pieces I've read so far in writer's cafe..
Seriously, A great and awesome write :)

[Floating on the feather..]

This is one of the most beautiful stories that i have ever read....
A dichotomy between the periphery of a Indian married woman and the aspirations of a soul .....very well portrayed.

I believe this writing of yours has given her a chance to live again on her terms and fulfill her aspirations in other's hearts.
Its really amazing, the words are so gracefully used here for a soul like her...had it been a book i would have kept it in a vault and never dog-eared the book. Its special.

[Rain]

Amazing story. What a vision of her you painted for us. Just an excellent job of making her so unique and special...and real. This was an interesting read from beginning to end. Rain..

[Drea]

In so many cultures around the world women have been expected to be the way you describe the perfect Indian woman in your intro. A doll to be looked at as the perfect example in physical beauty of whatever ethnicity she came from who is there to perform duties to the benefit of the men and children who surround her. In some parts of the world it is accepted as part of tradition; in others the practice is frowned on yet hiding behind hordes of suburban doors.
I am glad to see strong women stand; up in any culture.
I am thrilled to see a man stand next to that woman without apology or insult for standing there
You give her great honour to write about her no matter how short or long the prose