GRANDMA TALES: ONE

We still remember that day, in the year 2004, when our grandmother passed away. It was not just another death, the passing away of a human being for us. It was a great occasion and we rejoiced!

Ok. You think we are all mad, to be celebrating the death of our grandmother, grandma as we shall call her henceforth. But that is the truth and for God’s sake don’t think we are a bunch of heartless, loveless morons or something. There were reasons for us to rejoice the death of our grandmother. 

Grandma was 104 years old when she finally decided to quit her job as a human being on the earth. Can you imagine what it means for a mortal to live for those many years? Her life had spanned a century, containing time periods of several generations of her own family. Historically, she had lived through the British era, witnessing the lowering of the Union Jack and the hoisting of the Tricolor. She saw through the likes of Gandhi, Nehru, Lal Bahadur Shastri, Indira Gandhi, and many more prime ministers, not to mention any of the illustrious global figureheads!

The fact that our grandma lived for 104 years is nothing great by itself, and neither the first of its kind on earth. It is the fact that she was our beloved grandma that makes it great for us. Now, we understand you will tell us that there are many others like us. No, we are not the only ones on this earth to have a grandma. All of us have one or had one. And I doubt whether anyone, with the sole exception of us guys, would be jumping in delight at your grandma dying. How much we love her and why this you will understand when you keep reading our stories.

Grandma died in her sleep and did not look dead at all until one of us tried to wake her up. She looked in her death; as good as she looked when alive. In fact, we found it difficult to force ourselves to disturb her in the bed. We know for a fact that in her lifetime, she hardly gave anyone reason to grumble or complain. So it was in her death. She simply passed away in her sleep. True, she did not tell us she would die, neither did we think she was capable of dying, but no complaints on that score either!

We had just returned from the cremation ground after the funeral, and we sat around and talked about her. One thing led to the other and soon we were all telling or rather recalling our experiences with grandma. The stories she told us as kids. God, those were outrageously fictitious, as stories should be. But the cheek with which she took us all for granted was galling. She could get inside the stomach of a crocodile with the same ease as catching a dead star. She could trap her own daughter into a marriage she never wanted, or cast a spell on her daughter in law and make her marry her son. 

As we sat, discussing all this and more, grandma emerged from her grave. No. It was no ghost or apparition that we saw that day. It was grandma reconstructed by our remembrances, grandma as we knew her and the grandma that we didn’t know at all. 

Even as we tired speaking animatedly about grandma, a consensus had emerged. We all love grandma, though we all had our doubts whether we contributed anything substantial to her life as such. The recollection of stray and untold experiences about grandma brought her back to life for us, and what better tribute could we pay to the lady that record her life through our memories! If not anything, a lot of gaps in our understanding could be filled, and we could all look at a complete encyclopedia of grandma. It would also serve as a family heirloom perhaps, for us and for our children to read and enjoy, generation after generation.

It was primarily meant to be written by her grandchildren, but along the way, grandma’s children and their husbands and wives joined. For those of you who read the stories that follow, you must remember that the grandchildren are now old and have children of their own; and the children of grandma are themselves in the eighty’s and seventies and are grandpa and grandma themselves!

We decided there would be no structure to this collection. Each one of us will be free to tell his or her story the way they wanted. This has resulted in a blurring of dates and times of events described. In some cases, as is with Aneesh, he simply went back in time and became a kid himself. So the readers are cautioned not to look deep into the sequencing or chronology of the stories and experiences.

Though we love grandma, we have very truthfully documented whatever we thought was significant to decipher her personality. The end result has been a discovery for all of us. For readers, let it just be a collection of grandma tales, nothing more. And if you feel strongly for your grandma, do emulate us and write about her.

Ever so often, we find ourselves perceived by others in different ways. To some we are good; bad for some others; loveable to some; fit only for hate to others, and so on. To say this for grandma is difficult because whichever way we look at her we cannot but arrive at the same conclusion; that she was a fabulous person!

Discovering grandma this way was more like climbing Mount Everest. We know that different people have achieved the feat of climbing the same mountain, from different sides. Thus, though the mountain is one, experiences of mountaineers have been many and different. So it was with our process of discovery of grandma.

Grandma Tales, as we shall call this compilation, will unfold one story by one, like a series. Make sure that you do not miss any of them. Do not look upon this mass of writing as a piece of literary work. It is a simple expression of our love for grandma. And above all, we invite you all to enjoy the enigma of our grandma.

( To be continued…)