I really pity the new generation who don’t have the privilege of staying with their grandparents and getting all that pamper-ing, including my daughter. In this world of nuclear families and long distances, children are sadly often deprived of the happiness of growing up with the stories, silly games, un-conditional love and so much more that grandparents have to offer. The cruelest thing we are doing to them. We are indeed taking away the beautiful days or memories a child could get in his/her lifetime.
Coming back to my Dhadhi, she was the all-in-all of that house. Some of them who are reading this might know the house we used to live in, in Mattancherry. She was the queen of the house. Those days were beau-tiful and she was the prettiest thing in my memory. She proudly ruled that house and happily or sometimes unwantedly everyone had to agree to her (chuckles). Those beau-tiful Eid mornings where she would en-courage everyone to get ready as quickly as possible so that we could get the first rows at EidGah had a magic in them. She always loved guests, and she always wanted her children, her grandchildren to be around her.
Her food was always yummy. She prepared everything with utmost care and love. I have never had the same keri jo aathaano (dried mango pickle) as tasty as hers. Her Goondh Laddoos , Nan Khatais , Gud Paapdi - every-thing was exceptionally special. It was some-thing only she had mastered.
She was a loving wife. I have never seen anyone who loves their husband as passion-ately as she did. I wonder how someone could love their husband so purely doing all the duties regardless of whateve situation prevailed.
Fast forward to the present, she is with us, but, is she really with us? I doubt. I miss my old Dhadhi, my chirpy Dhadhi, who had many stories to tell us, who loved visiting relatives, who loved going on weddings, and who always scolded youngsters if they are not bothered respecting elders.
As they say, this is life, things have to change I wish I could take her on a walk, buy her her favorite things, talk to her end-lessly or just cuddle her so that she cuddles me back like we used to do in my childhood. It’s really heartbreaking to see her sitting on that chair without any emotions, talking about nothing, just staring at us. I always wonder what she might possibly be think-ing. Is she thinking of her olden times, does she recognize us? Does she actually know who I am? I don’t know... Deep inside my heart, it really hurts me whenever I sit with her and all she does is just stare somewhere else thinking deeply about something that we really have no idea about.
In those moments… I close my eyes and I see her, sitting inside our old house reading Qur’an in the front room painted blue, with her favorite money plants on the sides and calling me “Juvairiyaa.. Eda hallay”( Juvairi-yaa.. come here).
