• Farewell dearest mother
    Riverside
    by the riverside
    It was a quiet early morning sunrise when we immersed my mother’s ashes in the river.

    It was exactly a week ago that my brother and his wife went along with a friend to immerse my mother’s ashes.

    As per our belief the body is cremated and the ashes immersed in a body of flowing water on the third day after the demise.

    My mother passed away on Sunday evening after a brief illness that had no cure ( Glioblastomultiforme) . The minute she found out that her time was near, she decided to live it up. She had never had a pill in her life except for the occasional paracetamol or analgesic which is quite inevitable if one lives to 89 and was determined not to spend her remaining days visiting doctors’ clinics or downing medications to no real use.

    The temple

    A few miles outside Pune, on the steps leading to the river they silently said a few prayers and tipped the ashes. Within minutes a lifetime just vanished back into nature.

    A second life

    My mother’s credo in life was always to make the most of what life gave you. Of course she grumbled and whined and even cried because she had her frustrations and disappointments too. But she always faced life squarely and faced every adversity with undying optimism that this too shall pass.

    I first noticed this quality when fifty years ago, she met with a motor accident. We were walking to a temple close by as it was my 21st birthday. Though not regular temple goers, my mother thought I should begin my official adulthood with the blessings of the Almighty.

    So we set off early in the morning to beat the traffic and we had hardly gone a few hundred yards down the main road when she was mowed down by a passing car.

    It was a young girl, barely eighteen who was learning how to drive. After banging into my mum who was lifted onto the bonnet, she pressed the accelerator instead of the brakes and I saw my mum tumbling under the car and dragged underneath for a good twenty feet. Seeing her thrashing legs suddenly come to a halt with the car was something I’ll never forget. I stopped screaming and watched as she somehow extricated herself and sat beside the car. By this time a crowd had gathered but my mother ignored them and asked me to get a taxi, take down the details of the car and driver and take her home .

    She also asked to wrap her sari around her arms which lay limp against her side and grab her mangalsutra and her wallet that were thrown off.

    As we drove home, she told me to inform my brother, put off the gas, inform my neighbour and ask him to help my brother lodge a police complaint.

    On our way to the hospital, she insisted on being treated by a particular surgeon who was a friend of my father, to look into her case. She got out of the car and sat on the stretcher that whisked her away to the Emergency room.

    Miraculously she had only fractured all her ribs, a clavicle and her wrist. Her left arm was dislocated and she had a crack in her hip . Considering the accident , I was surprised that that was all the damage she had suffered.

    She was hospitalised for three months and had three more months of rigorous Physio therapy that included hot wax baths and exercises to restore her muscle strength.

    During her hospital stay, she set an exam paper for her school leaving students and even corrected the papers, writing comments with her left hand.

    My brother and I visited her every day as did my father. And she had a tonne of visitors. So she insisted being properly dressed with perfume and lipstick and even had me run up some printed gowns. Every evening it was a party of sorts during Visiting Hours in the broad hospital verandah overlooking the sea. She regaled every visitor with the story of her accident and often had to comfort those who had come to meet her! She was quite sure that she would be as good as new. And even when she came home with her arm in a sling, she insisted on sending a home cooked meal everyday to a friend who was being operated for a brain tumour .

    Always ready for a party

    My mum was always ready for a party – even two friends who came to dinner or lunch became a ‘party’ for her. And she loved to try new foods. For a girl who was raised vegetarian, she took to fish and fowl without any squeamishness and mastered cuisines that she had never heard of. Many of our daily conversations centred around food.

    Enthusiastic to ‘celebrate’, our birthdays were always special. She not only made us our favourite food but also made sure that we had new clothes, toys or whatever. On her last birthday we spent the whole day shopping and window shopping.

    Clothes were her undying passion and there was a time when I came home from school to a new dress everyday! She was of course doing sewing lessons at that time and enjoyed using her electric Singer machine.

    Another of her passions was fashion. She couldn’t walk past a shop without buying something. Even if she didn’t need it. “The shop keeper was so nice,” she’d say in her defence when we chided her for always coming home with something – whether it was fresh vegetables or an expensive sari.

    Meticulous and particular to the last she made me write her obituary months in advance and even wanted to be dressed to the nines for her Final Journey.

    But just as she was fond of collecting things, she was equally careful of how she used her things. I remember her putting away her ‘party’ cutlery in their original boxes right till ten years ago. Her crockery survived several moves even though it was packed solely by her, in newspaper and kept in wooden crates. Till as late as last week, I spotted a plate from a dinner set that she received as a first wedding anniversary present.

    When she discovered that her time was limited, she began sorting out her stuff . She got her saris laundered, some of her jewellery mended. And she gave away the things she loved most to the people she held dear.

    My parents were married for 67 years and I always thought my mum would outlive my father especially since he had had a heart attack five years ago.

    But she had her own reasons for leaving him behind and she left that Sunday evening happy that she had lived a rich and fruitful life.

    So goodbye dear Mummy. Hope you’re making lemonade out there somewhere with all the lemons you’ve been squeezing !

    Ciao

  • Today is World Burger Day. I didn’t really give it much thought till I realised that several of my feeds were offering special deals on burgers .

    But by the time I got my burger together it was pretty late in the day . I found a wonderful recipe to make my own burger right from scratch .

    I had everything to make the perfect burger except the burger bun . I went to the neighbourhood grocery store but they had run out of buns .

    I popped into every grocery store ( there are four of them on both sides of the road ) but they were all out of burger buns .

    Really ?

    I had no option but to walk down to the two bakeries down the road . And both had just the ONF packet left .

    I was so relieved that I almost ran up the slope home even though I was drenched in sweat . It was 34 C believe it or not even at sunset .

    But then I got down to making the burgers and landed up tweaking the recipe to invent my very own to rival Kentucky Fried Chicken’s Burger .

    Should I share the recipe ?

  • Growing Up

    Growing Up

    Today my first grandchild Wow Dinga graduated from Grade 5 and has moved up to the Big School. It’s hard to believe he is a big boy. It is hard to believe that he comes up to my eye brows and perhaps at the end of summer he’ll become taller than me. Of course my height is a pretty low bar to cross but nonetheless when a grandchild outstrips the grandma, it is time to put away the kid gloves. Time to do away with baby talk. Time to stop the mollycoddling.

    I remember waiting anxiously outside the Operating Theatre as he was making his entry into the world. We were the only people in the hospital yet as soon as he came out, his other granny and I kept strict watch on him as we didn’t want him to be mixed up with another child….. That does happen in hospitals.

    He came home with his new mom and new dad to a new crib and a new grandma. For me it was really strange because I had no experience of bringing up a boy. To make matters even more difficult – his paternal grandparents and parents were doctors – which made caring for him more challenging. After all they knew everything about human physiology while my knowledge of childrearing was restricted to bringing up my two girls.

    But I bungled through with his baby baths, his cloth nappies ( no disposable diapers for our little prince) his late night feeds, his pacifier, his funny wormlike crawl, his baby steps, his baby babble.

    When he went to his first nursery,, he was the only kid who didn’t howl. But I was scared when the doors shut and we were left to imagine what was happening inside. But he settled down as did all the other wailing babies and I was pleased that he already knew all the song. He strung the beads, painted blobs, made clay models and graduated a happy and confident little fellow.

    By the time he went to big school, he was already moving away, setting down in his new home with his new baby brother ( Little Po).

    Yet from time to time, I went to school to watch him perform. He was a little shyer now, a bit self conscious and I missed his impromptu performances as a toddler where he would sing out full throated renditions of Andrea Bocelli.

    His viewing preferences changed from Blippi, to Paw Patrol and Wild Kratts and Supa Strikas. His toys changed from pots and pans to delivery cartons to playing football and collecting cards of Match Attax.

    He became a champion swimmer after months of screaming in the pool. It took a while to get him off his beloved pacifier.

    He will no longer meet Ms. Papaya and Little Po during the school breaks between class. I won’t have to send an extra Brownie for him because he will be in a different school.

    And it won’t be long before he graduates from this big school too!

    Ciao,

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