I will tell you a story today. I am not a story teller. I don't know the art. I don't have good vocab. I don't have impeccable gramer. But I will go on because I need to.
Story starts before independence of India. It is about a little girl. From a small town but from a rich family. It was a family which owned at least one cotton mill, 3 town houses, several jewellery shops, countless farms and gardens. Everything was in abundance. Money, gold, servants, parents' love for this girl. You name it, it was there. She was youngest and dearest of all.
This little bubbly girl never realized why her neighbours next door living in small house are poor. Why would they live the way they lived. She was that kind of girl who would secretly drop packets of garden fresh mangoes onto their house. She would take her share of rice on the roof-top and pray to God that birds come and have it. Just for the pleasure of giving it.
Things started changing to some extent after independence when ceiling laws were enacted. Some property was lost but what was left was still magnanimous compared to rest of the country's population. At eleven, while life was still wonderful and seemingly she would never face dearth for rest of the years, the inevitable has to happen.
The Marriage.
If you think 11 years is too early for marriage I suggest you to buy a time machine and wind it back 60 years. It 'is' norm. Marrying their daughter to a son of elderly learned businessman in a relatively bigger town of post-independence India did not seem like a bad idea to her parents. While not a rich family her in-laws owned several businesses and were still well to do.
Few years into the marriage and she came closer to harsh reality. Not so friendly in-laws. Not an ideal husband to a teenage girl. Things started to become ugly when after few more years, as economy imploded, 'several businesses' waned into one. A fairly lively restaurant close to a large university. Not too bad, right? Not compared to what was to come. Several miscarriages at early age only added to misery and subtracted family support.
On a fateful summer day when she along with 3 children was visiting relatives in a far away village the greatest misfortune fell.
The robbery.
The restaurant+house was robbed to the last penny. Only things not robbed on the house were the bricks in the walls. What followed is a tragic story in itself. A story which tells how with zero family income she managed to fight hunger, disease and death. How she successfully raised five children with zero to minimum support from husband or family. From penniless toddlers to better strata of middle class the children have come. If the tale be told readers will cry blood. I know because I did. I will save you the torment.
If ever there walked a truly selfless human form on earth it was her. Now she is gone. Last night she took her last breath. RIP.
She was my grandma.
Story starts before independence of India. It is about a little girl. From a small town but from a rich family. It was a family which owned at least one cotton mill, 3 town houses, several jewellery shops, countless farms and gardens. Everything was in abundance. Money, gold, servants, parents' love for this girl. You name it, it was there. She was youngest and dearest of all.
This little bubbly girl never realized why her neighbours next door living in small house are poor. Why would they live the way they lived. She was that kind of girl who would secretly drop packets of garden fresh mangoes onto their house. She would take her share of rice on the roof-top and pray to God that birds come and have it. Just for the pleasure of giving it.
Things started changing to some extent after independence when ceiling laws were enacted. Some property was lost but what was left was still magnanimous compared to rest of the country's population. At eleven, while life was still wonderful and seemingly she would never face dearth for rest of the years, the inevitable has to happen.
The Marriage.
If you think 11 years is too early for marriage I suggest you to buy a time machine and wind it back 60 years. It 'is' norm. Marrying their daughter to a son of elderly learned businessman in a relatively bigger town of post-independence India did not seem like a bad idea to her parents. While not a rich family her in-laws owned several businesses and were still well to do.
Few years into the marriage and she came closer to harsh reality. Not so friendly in-laws. Not an ideal husband to a teenage girl. Things started to become ugly when after few more years, as economy imploded, 'several businesses' waned into one. A fairly lively restaurant close to a large university. Not too bad, right? Not compared to what was to come. Several miscarriages at early age only added to misery and subtracted family support.
On a fateful summer day when she along with 3 children was visiting relatives in a far away village the greatest misfortune fell.
The robbery.
The restaurant+house was robbed to the last penny. Only things not robbed on the house were the bricks in the walls. What followed is a tragic story in itself. A story which tells how with zero family income she managed to fight hunger, disease and death. How she successfully raised five children with zero to minimum support from husband or family. From penniless toddlers to better strata of middle class the children have come. If the tale be told readers will cry blood. I know because I did. I will save you the torment.
If ever there walked a truly selfless human form on earth it was her. Now she is gone. Last night she took her last breath. RIP.
She was my grandma.
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