Tuesday, September 30, 2014

My inspiration

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.

Throughout her life, she taught me through her actions, through her being. There were no lessons or “heart to heart” chats. I remember doing things with her and feeling loved. Her death was the first death I witnessed as a child. And I learnt that things changed constantly and sometimes they come as a shock. But that’s life!  Sometimes when I try to imagine her face, I get the feeling of being loved and cherished. I remember it is ok to struggle but happiness and being joyful is not being connected to struggle! I remember enjoying every moment of life and living completely, for that is what we are here for.        

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