"When I grow up I'll be just like my grandma"...this was what I would think to myself. Smoking a rolled up home made cigarette, wearing white petticoats with a white scarf on my head and milking the cow or picking firewood on the hillsides for the wood stove. This "dream" was when I was about 5 years old. And things changed pretty quickly after that once I got to know the significance of the white clothing my grandma wore and also that smoking was bad for my health. One day I asked her why she didn't wear a red or blue petticoat and blouse and she explained to me that widows didn't go about wearing colors besides she would never get married again according to our Hindu Religion. If grandma wore something made out of "sack" I would still love her and look up to her. To me she was the sweetest smelling person when she held me close to her after I had fallen on some hard ground or cried when I had scalded my tongue while drinking hot tea.
I'd follow my grandma around because she was my role model at that time-well she still is, even after her death. She taught me about nature & life; stuff that I would have never learned from the school books. Have you ever run bare feet on the green grass? My grandma taught me to enjoy this feeling. Or have chewed on sugarcane with juice running all over your chin? My grandma told me that enjoy the sugarcane first and then worry about the sticky chin. And man was it sticky after that! How about digging for turmeric on the green hillsides and getting the dirt under the fingernails? Well...she didn't teach me this but I had this experience while replenishing our turmeric for the summer while digging in the hills & forests. These are the experiences that I still remember besides all the stories I heard after dinner when I was growing up.
If there was one person who could make you "live" in the stories,it was my grandma. My grandma was the best story teller ever! Even if she told the same stories over and over again she would tweak it ever so slightly that it seemed like it was a whole new story and somewhat familiar-if you know what I mean. After all of the kids had eaten dinner we would sit with her, I kneading her back with my small hands or walking on it to ease her pain from her daily chores. She would begin her story with my siblings and a few cousins surrounding her in the small one-room house.
She would tell stories about princesses & princes, poor people, about her childhood and sometimes about the people we knew in the village. We would giggle & sometimes get close to tears and once in a while, scared if the stories were about ghosts. Grandma would go on & on never tiring until our eyelids were drooping and then off she would shoo us to bed to join our parents in our own homes. We lived in a large compound with all the extended families, our uncles & aunts and our grandma. Grandpa had passed away when my dad had been only 14 years old. My grandma had brought up her children on her own, her 4 sons & 2 daughters by working on the 10-acre farm and selling the sugarcane to the mills. We grew up milking the cows, herding the goats or running around chasing the chicken & ducks. The hardest part for me was trying to milk the cows because as soon as they shifted their weight I'd panic and of course the cows somehow felt this and wouldn't allow me to milk them. There were horses too but girls were not allowed to ride so I never got the chance but nonetheless I still have some great memories of the farm, planting rice in the muddy fields and picking vegetables by armloads. Eating guavas, mangoes, bananas and mandarin oranges fresh off the treesThe good old days!
In summer grandma would go into the forest to gather wild turmeric or other root crops and take me with her. We would also pick little wild chili peppers and other herbs that grandma would come across. The birds would be flying & chirping in the forest and there would be flowers galore. Once in a while we'd come across little gurgling creeks and see cows grazing in the meadows among the wild ginger plants. The wild ginger flowers would be so aromatic that I would tempted to pick one but "thwack", a rough brown hand would come down on my own small one. "Don't ever pick flowers if you don't intend to make use of it". Ouch! And on & on the "lecture" would go on about nature & how we were supposed to respect it. She would see my teary face and down would come those arms to hug me and all would be back to normal. She would smell of sweet tobacco or baby powder, her only form of makeup. Thank goodness that I still remember the sting of that slap because I have learned not to abuse nature and teach my own girls the same.
Our mornings would go quickly and we would find a dry spot to sit and eat our lunch of roti & curry that grandma had brought. Sometimes she's bring sweets that she had made a few days before and had saved. Somehow the food tasted better out there. :-D We would leave early in the morning just after the others would have left for the days work and come home at dusk dragging sacks of "goodies". There were days when she would invite her other friends to accompany her to go "fishing" for prawns. I would be so excited because I knew that she would take me too. We would spend hours mending the nets and gathering stuff like flour for "bait" and pillow cases to bring the "bounty" home. We would sit on the creek banks and watch for the prawns to come out from under the rocks when the flour was thrown in the water.
Deftly grandma would scoop up the net and lo & behold there would be 4 or 5 big prawns in the net. Sometimes she would wrap some of the prawns in huge leaves that she would break off from the plants on the banks , and roast the prawns for a snack. Yummy! My mouth still waters from the memory. Those were the tastiest of the prawns I've ever eaten-with a pinch of salt, that was always tied in the corner of her scarf (wrapped in brown paper) when we went to get prawns. Only after grandma & the other ladies had gotten enough prawns for dinner, then I would be allowed to wade & play in the crystal clear water. I would bathe in it sometimes and make '"dams" to trap some little fish and play until my hands & feet were all wrinkled. By the time we reached home my clothes would be dry because usually the two mile walk would be slow with all the ladies still talking and enjoying each others company.
One of my favorite times were she would go to the monthly "club" meetings and I would tag along. There were normally 8-9 ladies who would exchange news for about 10 minutes about who had given birth, who had eloped, who had been having an affair and who's cow had been stolen etc. And then my favorite time would come; one of the younger women would read from our holy book "The Ramayan" or "MahaBharat". These were stories and stories were like oxygen to my brain. I would take it all in and revel in the moments of our religious history. One hour or so of reading form the holy books and then the hymns would be sung-some old and some new.
If I were lucky one of the women would pass me the small wood pieces to "smack" together to make music. I felt that I was definitely needed then and felt privileged and honored that they would want me to be involved. Some would bring snacks and share with all and I would be fed until I could eat no more. Once in a while some other woman would bring her granddaughter or grandson and I would get to play with them. Each one would proudly show off their grandchild as my grandma showed me off. I would smile shyly and hope that the "show & tell" would be over soon. This was not a great time for me, since I was very shy and not talkative at all but they always liked to pat me on the head and talk about my long beautiful hair and my lovely complexion. Yeah, those were the days! And I would be encouraged to "pat" the wood blocks more loudly to show that I was fully capable of joining them in their group.
Grandma would proudly pat me on the head and tell me to bring up the beat more in tune to the hymns or there were times when she would scold me when I would be lost in my thoughts and let the rythm drift off. These were the times that I cherish most. My time spent with my grandma and learning about nature, getting close to nature and about our religion. I didn't know then, that I was being prepared for my future when I would have children and would get to share my experiences with them. Little did I know then, that I would be bringing my children up in a foreign country and would have to teach them their inheritance from memory of my upbringing. There were times she would be annoying too! Like when she would want me to put up my hair in braids all the time-real tight! I would have sworn that my eyes would have popped out if she had pulled them any tighter. Oh yes, she would be really annoying when I would want to read my own story books and she would want me to do things for her especially when the story would be very very interesting. But, all that was forgiven when she gave me her time and shared her gifts about nature, music, herbs and fishing. I was blessed to have her has my grandma.
I would have to thank my grandma once again that I was one of the lucky ones that learned from the best. My grandma passed away over 22 years ago but my memories of her stories, her smile and her hugs will remain with me for the rest of my life. For these are the sweet memories and experiences that keep me grounded and have gotten me through my good times and my tough times. So, my dear readers, even if grandmas can be annoying sometimes, remember that they'll be gone someday and all we'll have left is just memories so, go and share time with them and make some wonderful memories. Grandmas can be fun also and we can sure learn a lot from their experiences! So, once again I say, "Thank you grandma"....more to come about my memorable experiences!
