Mixed Feelings
I have a sense of relief tinged with a little guilt now as I say this.
My mother's mother is no more.
I remember all that my sister and I have shared with this grandmother. Vivid memories of summer holidays spent in a small one room kitchen in Mylapore, where she stayed with my Uncle. Somehow the size of the house was not at all significant in my mind, and we spent many summers whiling away time playing PalanKuzhi, or Hopscotch, that we called Pandi.
Over the years she has shared her story with us and it flashes back to me now. A by-gone era filled with stories of struggle and difficulties. (Yet they raised children so well, and we balk at minute and insignificant challenges thrown at us...let me not get judgemental here...)
I remember the beautiful photo of Paati hanging in the tiny bedroom cum living room. She is sitting with a veena and looks like a movie star or a Raja Ravi Varma painting. What I cant forget is the look of confidence, self assurance that sits on her face. I am sure when that photo was taken the teenager had no clue what awaited her in future.
She was a wonderful singer; is how she has told us very proudly. Along with her brother, she spent her childhood passionately singing and playing the veena (is this where my daughter gets her talent? My FIL would say it is from his side!!). But later when she would recollect her talent and her ability to sing high pitch, the memories were so devoid of bitterness and animosity, I wonder how that generation moved along with life, rolling and falling, but not lingering in the bitterness of failed chances.
She was married to a wealthy man with car and office, unheard of at those times. Yet, the tragedy was that after 4 children and at 28 years she lost her husband to chicken pox. Yet the details she has shared with me about her married life is so tragi-comic.
Privacy was non existent and the elder women of the house literally stood guard over the wife, monitoring how many times and how many days a week. Can one imagine a life like that? After losing her husband, she had to travel between parents and in laws, not fitting in, not belonging anywhere.
What was her life? Where could she pour her passions?
Music and Movies.
Many summer afternoons, she would just take us to the nearest theatre for a movie show, Shivaji Ganesan or MGR, sometimes Gemini. Sitting by her as she lost herself in this world of make believe. We could not understand most of the dialogues, and would constantly ask her some question, she would answer or not, but an icecream/ snack was guaranteed.
Evening time was temple time and we would walk down to the Kapaleeswarer temple, to listen to some Kutcheri or Kalakshep or to just sit in the temple, gossiping and chatting with friends and neighbours. I still believe she led a charming life within all the difficulties she faced.
I remember that childhood with her, adulthood moved us apart; different priorities, different lifestyles. Flitting meetings, cursory and dutiful grand-daughterly visits.
We carry pieces of them in our memories and mine are filled with mixed feelings.
My mother's mother is no more.
I remember all that my sister and I have shared with this grandmother. Vivid memories of summer holidays spent in a small one room kitchen in Mylapore, where she stayed with my Uncle. Somehow the size of the house was not at all significant in my mind, and we spent many summers whiling away time playing PalanKuzhi, or Hopscotch, that we called Pandi.
Over the years she has shared her story with us and it flashes back to me now. A by-gone era filled with stories of struggle and difficulties. (Yet they raised children so well, and we balk at minute and insignificant challenges thrown at us...let me not get judgemental here...)
I remember the beautiful photo of Paati hanging in the tiny bedroom cum living room. She is sitting with a veena and looks like a movie star or a Raja Ravi Varma painting. What I cant forget is the look of confidence, self assurance that sits on her face. I am sure when that photo was taken the teenager had no clue what awaited her in future.
She was a wonderful singer; is how she has told us very proudly. Along with her brother, she spent her childhood passionately singing and playing the veena (is this where my daughter gets her talent? My FIL would say it is from his side!!). But later when she would recollect her talent and her ability to sing high pitch, the memories were so devoid of bitterness and animosity, I wonder how that generation moved along with life, rolling and falling, but not lingering in the bitterness of failed chances.
She was married to a wealthy man with car and office, unheard of at those times. Yet, the tragedy was that after 4 children and at 28 years she lost her husband to chicken pox. Yet the details she has shared with me about her married life is so tragi-comic.
Privacy was non existent and the elder women of the house literally stood guard over the wife, monitoring how many times and how many days a week. Can one imagine a life like that? After losing her husband, she had to travel between parents and in laws, not fitting in, not belonging anywhere.
What was her life? Where could she pour her passions?
Music and Movies.
Many summer afternoons, she would just take us to the nearest theatre for a movie show, Shivaji Ganesan or MGR, sometimes Gemini. Sitting by her as she lost herself in this world of make believe. We could not understand most of the dialogues, and would constantly ask her some question, she would answer or not, but an icecream/ snack was guaranteed.
Evening time was temple time and we would walk down to the Kapaleeswarer temple, to listen to some Kutcheri or Kalakshep or to just sit in the temple, gossiping and chatting with friends and neighbours. I still believe she led a charming life within all the difficulties she faced.
I remember that childhood with her, adulthood moved us apart; different priorities, different lifestyles. Flitting meetings, cursory and dutiful grand-daughterly visits.
We carry pieces of them in our memories and mine are filled with mixed feelings.
Yes Sowmya.....we need to salute that generation I think for their courage, their interpersonal skills, their independence, their emotional strength and so much more!....somewhere along the way, have we lost a good part of all that? I don't know....
ReplyDeleteso sorry for your loss sowmya, time doesn't stand still for anyone, but memories do.
ReplyDeleteA beautiful tribute to a patti from her granddaughter! you patti was must be proud of this granddaughter from above
ReplyDeleteYEs, Our grandparents have struggled a lot in those days and they never complained. A lesson for us to raise our children that way, so that they don't whine when they face difficulties in life.
Sorry to hear about your Paati Sowms, hope we all can imbibe timeless values from them and pass them on... beautiful tribute Sowms.
ReplyDeletemy heartfelt condolences, Sowmya. I never knew my maternal grandmother, since she passed away when my mom was in school. But we never really missed her, since her place was replaced by my grandfather's sister... a young widow, she chose to stay with my grandfather even after her own kids were married, and all my best grandparent memories are with her... shes now past 97, and going strong... the only problem is - she cant live with her own grandchildren because none of them are used to her, and she is not too happy with us because she feels we dont follow all those 'madi' rules.... and so many of the younger generations have passed away, most of us have begun wondering (rather guiltily) when her time will come... she has seen enough for a lifetime, and god alone knows what else she needs to see at this age... when the time does come, we will have the same guilty relief, i guess...
ReplyDeleteHeart felt condolences Sowmya.. May her soul rest in peace.. The tolerance, acceptance levels of that generation is something! Your post reminds me of my father's mother who again was widowed at the age of 20 with 2 kids. Shuttling between her brothers homes and the in-laws, most part of the day spent in kitchen cooking for a dozen mouths, was the norm. Used to love the daily ritual of her narrating the Ramayana, Mahabharatha and many many stories from our mythology, at bedtime, her eagerness to plait my then long hair with thaazhamboo, the fluffly kozhakattais and sevai...
ReplyDeleteSuch a wonderful tribute to your grandmother, dripping with so much love and tenderness. That picture which you mentioned of her being taken during her teenage years, it reminds me of my mother. Whenever i see her picture taken in that age, I feel really sad for her, as she also never knew what she would be getting into. Just like any of us she too must have had visions of a very happy life, yet she was not really happy, she had to face so many hardships in life, yet she would always go about her life joking, smiling as if nothing mattered.
ReplyDeleteI don't think I could have ever led her life.
When my mother died i felt happy that she died, at last free from the never ending burdens in her life.
However I do feel bad in not having spent much quality time with her.
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ReplyDelete