Dadi has not been keeping well from more than six months now. Blame the old age and the frail frame. Its been more than a decade since she has been holding forts against diabetes and arthritis. I do not know if Ridhima would be able to know who her great grand Dadi was and how she looked but the legacy of her will live on nonetheless.
Grandma was more of an extremely religious soul who till last year would not eat before her morning bath and puja. She knew all domestic cure of almost all her ailments but would long for more advice - be it visiting Babas, beggars or relatives - she would simply follow. She knew all of her mantras and the routine that would start with early morning - from the moment she used to open her eyes till the day used to culminate when she retired at night. I know this because she was my first best friend and she had the tenacity to cope up with all my tantrums from day one. Mom is still a strict task master who wouldn't think twice teaching us a lesson but Dadi would listen to me first and then almost always used to give in to my demands- be it eating laddu or Bhat daal instead of roti at home. She wouldn't mind even going next door asking neighbours' help. So much so, she breast fed me- I dont know how- my youngest uncle was at least 15 years older to me. I must have been her son in previous life - I arrived late this time around. Nevertheless, she was more than a mother to me.
She knew all the stories of the world specially the religious ones. Even the relationship between gods and the background stories of them- I am reminded of TV soap operas of today. The first graphic book I read was ''Krishnleela" an elaborate black and white illustration of Lord Krishna's life, she lent that from one of her nieces. Then there was 'Sukhsagar', 'Ramcharit Manas, 'Mahabharat' and so on. She didn't let me touch Bhagwat Geeta though as she feared I would run away and become a yogi or something. All of my relatives still think it to be a dangerous text. Just because it might lead you to go far away from them.
The reason I got so much love and exposure from her was because I could read them well, sing the 'Ramcharit Manas' well. Most importantly, Dadi wore a thick glass as she had lost most of eyesight crying for one of her lost sons who died many decades ago. Cataract, later added up to the physical injury to her most precious assets - her eyes. Incidentally, she was one of the most renowned Charkha weaver and had won many district level awards, she had also seen Gandhiji and had participated in her charkha competition as well as campaigns. She was known for the finest thread that used to be the thinnest and the most expensive thread of all. Her hobby might also weakened her eyes. Hobby because she was offered a government job based on her skills but that was not the norm then.
She was married at the age of thirteen and didn't know alphabets. Was that a hindrance? No! She reading all by herself after doing all the daily chorus of a large joint family sans any modern gadgets. Not just that, she read almost all religious text at her disposal- her favourite being Gutka (the tiny little version of Ramcharit Manas). She would flawlessly quote lines from that text at will. You wouldn't know she never went to school. She was one guardian angel of our entire clan that everyone would come and seek her guidance on almost all issues. She would sing and was always in demand whenever there used to be any marriage in the entire village- only a few had had that vast collection of songs and could sing them like her. I know because I used to sleep beside her and listen to her humming at night before any marriage or religious event. This is how she practised her art and kept track of her songs.
Dadi was perhaps the first person in our entire extended family who went to Bol Bum on her own and continued with that for many years. She used to bring those red-yellow threads for all of her grand sons and daughters along with toys and Mithai.
Dadi had her complains for her sons and other people in the family but she never said much, seldom displayed her anger. I had seen her shading her lonely tears a couple of times but when asked she would just divert attention ignoring her pains altogether. There are so many things to talk about and there are so many restrictions I have that is making me stay here in Mumbai when she is already dead.
On Thursday (04-08-16) I missed a call from Papa in the afternoon- I was in office. I feared the inevitable and forgot to return the call. Around 7pm I received a call from Munni who informed me that Dadi was no more. She spoke a lot of things till 5 in the morning and was absolutely quite since. She could not be saved and was dead by 6pm.
Rest in peace Dadi. You taught me life and will be missed as long as your grand son is alive.
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| Dadi will be missed... |
