I
believe every individual is different and unique. And logically then, each
person should be an inspiration to the other; to strive to become better or the
best. But that’s now how our mind works. There are only few people who touch
our lives forever and become an inspiration for us, and stay with us till
eternity. For me this person was my naani. She died early, I believe I was 11-
12 years old.
She
was a born fighter and a smiling one. She was (and still is) my personal and
living ‘laughing buddha’. She had the habit of taking everything in her stride.
It was in her being to be like that. My mother tells me that her family
underwent a serious financial crisis. My nana and naani had to bring up 3
children and were almost penniless. My naani stepped in and supported my
grandpa. She took up stitching clothes. Many believed that she should just take
care of home. Many believed that she was showing off and putting her husband
down. She had a beautiful habit of “shutting off” negativity. She fought it
off. She worked till she felt her family was stable. I would always play with
the sewing machine. In winters, I would mess her knitting. I would spoiling the
adjustments and watch her put it back to the ‘normal’. I wonder today how she
would never scold me for doing that. Her reaction was to set it back to normal
every time. Patiently.
With her
being around, life was always fun and very relaxed. She made me believe I could
do whatever I wanted to. And if I was not getting it, I was not “wanting it
enough’. Many things came easily to us, and for many things we have to fight.
Big deal!
We
would play together and make the dough for lunch, and sometimes peel fruits for
juice, sometimes fill up vegetable with masala. Even the most mundane of things
were pure fun. I remember her saying “yes” to everything. She would cook for
us, clean the house, and find enough time to play with us and read newspapers
and magazines. She was up to date and had strong opinions. She was too
energetic to get tired.
The
best part of being around her was to play with her hair. I would love to tangle
and untangle her long hair. One day, for the first time she stopped me from
taking off her scarf. I remember my mother telling me she was ill. She died
about a year after from cancer. I learnt she had cancer much later. My parents
never told me the disease she died from.
During
those days, she fought to recover, and to be well. I know that now. At that
time, everything seemed very normal to me. I don’t remember her being sad
during those months. There were hospital visits, doctors coming home, but it
never felt abnormal. I always thought she would be fine. And that it was just a
phase. I was sure she fight out this as well.
No comments:
Post a Comment