There was a picture hung by the
wall of by old countryside home, it was a gray scale picture of three young
girls and a grandmother. At first I wondered who they would be and I kept until
one day when I asked my grandfather who those girls were? He held me up in his
arms and pointing to the picture with other hand. He told me that, it was my
mother and her sisters. I was so shocked for till then I definitely believed
that they were born that way and they will remain so for all eternity. If I
recall my grandpa’s version of the story I cried, but mind you, I never accepted
his claims what so ever.
Years later I came in terms with
my mother and her sister who are so big now being so little then, The thing
that still caught my attention every time I
looked at that picture is old lady in the picture with silver hair and a
grandeur that was there in her face. Her stance had a stature that I seldom saw
in people then and before. By the time I procured all the courage to ask who
she was it was then again years later. This time I asked my grandpa who would
be by then asked all kind of stupid questions by me, who she was. And He said
she was a grandmother and I was confused. I already had one grandmother and
extended him the same enquiry with an ‘innocent smile’ (in his words). He
smiled and said of course you have but she was my mother grandmother so my
great grandmother she was!
From then own I heard a million
wonderful stories of her and her life, she was never a stereotype and she was
always a person I grew up to respect. I never knew her and she was long gone
the time I was born. But still I loved her and I loved the picture of hers.
There was definitely something special about her and it was evident in the
picture. My mother told me many wonderful memories of her’s. She told me of her
times with her grandma and how wonderful a person she was. All these stories I
used to create for myself the great grandmother who was truly great for me by
them. Great as in life as in day dreams she was.
Born in the dark times to a
wealthy aristocratic family, she was never the one for stereotypes. When
education and profession eluded women, she showed the courage to step up and
break down the barriers. She learned and exceled and then became a teacher, the
first one from anywhere in her area. But that was not all, my mother always
told me how she used to manage her carrier and the large paddy fields she
inherited and all her children all alone. She was the most respected one of her
lands and the local folks used to come to her for permission. She loved her men
as they loved and respected her back.
My mother used to tell whenever
gypsises came to the lands near hers they would come ask her permission before
they would go anywhere. This is just one among the many stories I heard of my
great grandmother. There is one another story that I always loved. My aunt told
me once that whenever they went to hers for the summer breaks she would have by
then plucked all the mangos in her plantation and hid it neatly under the hay
stacks so that they would be ripe and the three of them would go scavenger
hunting for mangoes.
I do wish I was there to witness
it all. Bound in these concrete jungles of modern times, these little good
times are for memories alone and any one who dares to dream of it as anything
else is bound to disappointment as always. Those are the good time that will
never be back upon us and they are special people who will be born once and if
u missed them then you missed them. There is no going back. Yet I wish that was
not true.
