A Tribute to Aita(My Grandma)

The early morning radio, the smell of UE cream- this is what used to wake me when I was in Nagaon. Aita would be sitting in front of the dressing table (which I always fancied) and getting ready for the day. With the same set of mekhala chaddars I have seen her wearing since I know of and the red sindoor heavily decorating the centre parting of her hair accompanied by the huge red bindi on her forehead. Yes, that was the perfect morning for me. The morning I had seen for at least 12-15 years during my winter vacations.

It was a rare sight to see her inactive. She used to be walking around doing something or the other except when she was taking her afternoon nap. I used to wonder how anyone could work so much with a hot water bag tied to her waist. Her daily regime would comprise of cooking, monitoring work, shopping and of course, speaking at the top of her voice! I don’t think anyone could ever miss that.

She is the best cook in the world. She always had a stock of aachaar, laddoos and pithas ready for us. And she made sure we never ran out of them! I would see her sitting and instructing people to shape the laddoos round in the right manner.

Whenever I entered Nagaon, the feel of being there wouldn’t strike me until I entered her room- the tick-tock sound of the grandfather clock, the familiar aroma which I could sense around her and of course, the dressing table as I mentioned before. I had explored every nook and corner of it. Be it the assorted collection of cosmetics or supari and saunf, I knew it all.

As a kid, the most common ventures with her would be shopping in the vegetable market or visiting a wedding reception. She’d have a mouthful of paan, a leather purse in her hand, all set to go! I have never seen her let go of a single potato without a bargain. As for weddings, that used to be one treat for us! I, my brother and my cousins would get ready with full enthusiasm. I cannot forget how we cousins used to pack a handful of flavoured saunf in our handkerchiefs and come home very proudly displaying the amount each one got. I remember the fairy tales she used to tell me. Sometimes I’d keep her awake for hours at night just because I wanted to hear more.

I celebrated most of my first 13 birthdays in Nagaon. Her mouth never ceased to bless me or pray for me. I used to be her Rani Suna (Darling Queen). I always enjoyed the privilege of being the favorite grandchild because I was her first. The last time I sat with her in the courtyard this May, I remember her telling me how to make a simple lemon achar which cures digestion. Out of the many things she has told me, that is something I will never forget. In spite of being so sick in her last days, I would see her wearing a different design of gold jewellery. Every design was distinct. I couldn’t help admiring her taste. The piece of jewellery I have with me now and cherish having is my silver payal which she had given me few years back. It is just like her- simple yet beautiful.

It’s only while writing the above lines that I realize she is gone. I can’t believe that the familiar voice which used to welcome me to my hometown will no longer be there when I step inside that house. I can’t believe there actually exists an illness which forced her to lie in bed day and night. Today, I remember the times I argued with her. I hope she has forgiven me for all that I might have done to hurt her. Right now, I can only believe that she has gone to a better place…that God has put an end to all her sufferings and he is keeping her safe in his arms.