My Grandma has had a profound influence on the family. Each one of us remember her in our own very special way. Each one of us have had life changing experiences with her over time. She was a very strong and mostly stubborn woman. Her likes are dislikes were known atleast a couple of miles around the town :) She rarely ventured out of our house, except to collect her pension and do the prescribed rounds of the temples. When she came back once from her trip to the pension office, she told me how she would wait for someone tall and wide to cross the street before her, and the moment she found someone fitting this description, she would quickly cling on to the stranger and ask for help in crossing the street. Sometimes she would have to wait for as much as 30 minutes before she could find someone who would help her cross the streets.
Indian streets are a desolate story. I am happy that lord Hanuman always protected here from traffic accidents.
For as long as I remember, I have stopped whatever I drive for the old and the very young. My grandma lives in all.
If I could do a Neruda,
You would have smelt of summer roses
And Autumn pine.
There would have been sheer love
Of the kind that causes our hearts to ache
And loneliness bordering the divine.
You would have had so many secrets
Welling up as in a girly giggle
And so few friends who would hear them all.I am no Neruda
I can't paint you a Summer breeze
Amidst this long winter chill.
Every time I close my eyes
I see the green of Kerala countryside
The dark greens of lumbering rubber trees
The even tranquil green of silent paddy fields
The light lemon yellow green from tender clover leaves
And then I remember your dupatta
Deep red or possibly maroon
Standing out among the Kerala countrysides.