A note to a beloved

I must have been around 13 or 14, when I slowly started to realize that contrary to my belief so long, she was not troubling me with her formidable ways, but in fact was helping me learn and grow up as a grounded and a sensible individual. She was determined to not let me move away from the culture, religion and language that very clearly played a pivotal role in my personality when I grew up. All the bedtime stories she narrated to me and my cousins contained moral teachings and messages that quite make me sit back and think about now. She never read out stories from any book but all the stories that mostly began with “Once upon a time…..”, had elements of ethics that she wanted to pass on to us. Mythological tales from the likes of Ramayana and Mahabharata would not have quite fancied me if I was not intrigued by those when she first introduced me to it. I still hear my dad and mom proudly tell everyone about my story recitals when I was all of 5 or 6 years of age.

She had dogged persistence in teaching me to read and write my native language Malayalam. I still recall how I used to get irritated when she would insist on teaching me the language during my school vacations, when all I wanted to do was watch TV or go out and play with my cousins. I would be forced to drag out my slate and chalk pieces and practice the Malayalam alphabets over and over again, till she was convinced that I would never forget it. She diligently sourced an alphabets book which had pictures depicting each word, so that I understand the language better.. very soon this summer vacation ritual gained momentum and became a more frequent weekend activity. I graduated into reading words and sentences. She always made space for me to write a few lines, in the letters she used to write to her sister regularly and made me read aloud passages from Bhakthapriya and Sri Guruvayurappan monthly journals. I did not understand why I gave in to her fortitude or why I let myself open to learn what she had to offer; but when I reminisce about it, I am glad that I did it.

As I sit back and contemplate the life by-gone, I understand the positive influences she had on me during my formative years. I clearly remember all the religious songs that were taught to me; although I have less use for all those now, it was a chapter that she introduced to me. I knew a hymn in praise of almost all the Hindu gods!! I wouldn’t have learnt to appreciate the silk paavada/lehnga, blouses and matching coloured glass bangles that we all wore when we were younger; always competing with the cousins on who’s was the best colour and look. We all have grown out of those attires and would dread to be seen in one of those now, but I would recommend that experience to any youngster even today. If it was not for her assertion, the household would not have lent importance to the various rituals in all the festivals we celebrate. Starting from the very first festival of the year, Pongal, and moving onto Vishu, Janmashtami, Vinayaka chaturthi, Onam, Dussehra and Diwali, she inculcated the customs and practices associated with each of these, to all of us. Although much of the hard work was done by my mom in cooking all the various delicacies such as vishu kanji, appam, uzhunnu vada, modakams, onam sadya etcs to commemorate the various festivals, we began to understand that such celebrations makes the growing children understand the festivals better and gives us reasons to correlate well with the occasions.

A very well liked and admired person in our locality, she always had a kind word or a pleasant enquiry for any of the close neighbours we interacted with. Busy-bee is the word I would like to connote her with. She finds pleasure in relentlessly pursuing some activity or other. Tending to all the plants that she lovingly grew all around our house compound, gathering flowers from them every morning to adorn all the gods’ pictures, tidying up the money-plant creepers that seem to be growing haphazardly all the time, are her famous pursuits.

Years have passed by since the time she was that young energetic grandmother ever ready with suggestions and opinions on cooking, grooming, temple practices, our outfits and the like. I still see the vigour in her to be active now, even though she is constantly bogged down by her diabetic condition and falling health. Her daily visit to the nearby temple has also reduced to an occasional stop-over but it’s the never-say-die spirit in her that I always admired the most. Many a times I felt like screaming my head out with her constant prodding about my food and sleep, but I always reconcile understanding that it’s her undying affection for all of us that brings out such questions all the time.

She turns 76 in a couple of week’s time and as I set about turning my calendar at home to September today, I couldn’t help lingering on a minute longer at that date; September 18. For the last 6 years, I always presented her with a new mundu-veshti or a kasavu sari (traditional kerala attires for women) for her birthday which she diligently wore on that special day. This year would be an exception. I am not around her to do this. As I reached office today, I thought I needed to put down in words all the appreciative memories I had of her and let her know in the most subtle way that we appreciate all that she has done for us and thank her for the part well played in grooming us to who we are today. Praying for her longevity and good health always, I dedicate this to her on her birthday.