The first time you meet her its will take
you a few minutes to re-align your mental perception of a typical grandmother
and you better do it fast because she isn’t going to give you too much time to
do whatever it is you need to. This lovely woman who looks harmless enough – plump,
cute and grey haired – is in actual a real live wire. The many years of living
as an Army wife (and subsequently a naval officer’s mother and army officer’s grandmother)
has given her a definite military bearing. And just when you are getting used
to the sharp tongue and shriveling a little under her even sharper gaze be
ready to be pleasantly surprised by her open attitude and friendly nature. At
heart I don’t know how old she feels or in this case how young because whatever
your age she instantly forms a connection, enquiring about your boy friends and
match making for you in the same breath.
“Don’t expect me to cuddle you” she warns
and it’s true – I share a much better equation with her post adolescence that I
ever did as a small child. In fact Ammuma (that’s Granny in Malayalam) and I started
living under the same roof due to a tragic event in our lives. My mother was
diagnosed with breast cancer before my 18th birthday and my
shattered father wondering how he would manage a teenaged daughter and run a
house while his wife would need to be away for many months undergoing treatment
called on who else but his mother to the rescue and overnight the grandmother
who I had met so far only on the annual two week holidays suddenly became my
every day guardian and caretaker.
She was apprehensive she says, self
admittedly short tempered she wondered how she would get along with the
grandchild who looked uncannily like her but was in a daze of grief having
discovered that her mother was afflicted with a life threatening disease. Would
there be teenage rebellion or maybe a generation gap? But in her typical style, (she is a typical lioness
when it comes to protecting her cubs) she flew in without a second thought to
take care of her blood. Just when she thought that her days of toil and responsibility
were over and she could sit back and relax while her children looked after her,
she was obliged to get into the kitchen and start running the house. If that
wasn’t enough she always went the extra mile making sure my lunch was packed
just right and on those sweltering summer days when I returned home from
college it was to a welcome glass of cold coffee – surely something that my
mother would never have bothered with.
The one time we were at logger heads was
when my exams approached, always a conscientious student with good grades and regular
hours of study I had got used to my parents leaving me to my own ways. With her
however studies and marks were always an obsession – marks were never good
enough unless they were the best in the class. So much to my dismay she would
impose an atmosphere not different from a concentration camp (albeit a well fed
one) with strict instructions to remain glued to my books for as long as
possible.
It was during the darkest of hours in my
life when my grandmother lent me her protective shield of love and care. A
couple of years down the line , soon after I had started attending classes at a
prestigious business school in the country, my Mum left us, plunging my father
and me into the depths of despair . Yet again it was Ammuma who came and lived
with us transforming the house which almost had a haunted quality without her
into a comforting home with her presence.
They speak of karmic connections between
souls and kindred spirits and I am not sure what all that means but I do feel
that some where there is a special connection between me and my granny. The
Grand Lady who taught me without ever needing to instruct me so much about love
and family and just simple humanity. A toast to her, one of the most amazing
women I have ever known!
