The wrinkles that somehow eventually became synonymous with her being, her hands that trembled even during minor gestures, her frailty that resembled the number of years she left behind but with accumulation of myriad experiences and so on, the memories entrenched within me about my grandmother during the concluding months of her life’s journey.
Of course, she was far from such a debilitated state of being, at least not what I had known her to be like. Despite conceding the fact that nature has its part to play, we are often left astonished to what extent an individual’s physical attributes can change. A vibrant, jubilant person she used to be, which didn’t remain the same with the passage of time, the fact that is unconvincing at times. Anyway, “aging gracefully” is what resonates while reflecting upon the life of my grandma, which can be attributed to the traditional but mostly undemanding lifestyle she adhered to. Unlike the way we’ve been fortunate enough, she wasn’t brought up amid affluence but persistent hardships. Toiling was a commonplace in her life, be it farming or household chores. ‘Comfort Zone’ must be the phrase she was remotely aware about, even during her youthful years. But, no matter what, she didn’t relent but thrived, didn’t let go but flourished. She turned herself into a person that her children and grandchildren built their admiration around.
Recollection of memories with my grandmother however is not confined to a profound emotional attachment but her unsophisticated way of being, unlike the trajectories of our modern day life that tend to entrap us in emotional strain, often unnecessarily. Taking into account my grandma’s consolidation of so-called trivial aspects of life into a form of fulfillment makes me think that perhaps we, the contemporary beings, have stretched our pursuit of success and sophistication to the extent that we have seized being content but learnt to exist with monotonous routine.
I can still hear the hymns my grandma used to recite during her morning prayers, the melody that resonated in the surrounding atmosphere. I can still smell the fragrance of the incense sticks she used to burn while worshipping Hindu deities, which, notwithstanding whatsoever scientific explanation it may entail, formed a spiritual ambiance, some inexplicable delight that blended along. Also endearing was my grandma’s wisdom that was born out of real life incidents, the knowledge to rely on apart from those pertaining to academic sphere.