My Hero

My Hero

Thick black hair streaked with white hair in between, plaited to waist length, draped in a navy blue sari and a white blouse she looked every inch a grandma. When I saw her for the first time in my late teens (my memories of her do not go back any further) I kind of connected with her.

Her welcome disarming smile put me at ease and at that moment, I recollect now three decades and a half later, our age difference had melted. The first question I remember she asked me was' coffee na tea a'?

In her mid eighties now, her charm and smile remain the same, though I detect a slow down in her vigour and energy in the past couple of visits. I am unable to visit her as much as I would want to as we live in different cities and my work keeps me busy.

"Life doles out different cards to people and one should make the most of what we get. I never ask 'why me' because I fear I might get the answer 'why not you'?", she once told me. And what a life she has lived !

Married at a tender age of 16, which she says was late during her time, she came to an unknown city to start life afresh. She put behind a difficult time and a grave scandal in her father's house. I think she carried the guilt of having found her pregnant sister hanging from the roof beam. She still talks of her sister "J" with great fondness and a feeling of nostalgic attachment.

Although I have never seen her talk with remorseness, she often felt she would have done well if she had studied further. And Why not? She had topped her school and secured 100% in Maths in what she calls as metriculation.

I thought her marriage was a mis-match as I found her smarter and definitely more intelligent than her husband. Her husband undoubtedly was a good-natured man, but when it came to Pythagoras theorem and wisdom of the world, she scored a notch above him :)

She braved a husband with TB, loss of his job, a schizophrenic son and financial problems with great dignity and no complaints. I have always seen her celebrate all festivals with gusto. No compromises as far as celebration was concerned- food, clothes or rituals- she follows them all to the T. I think that is what keeps her spirit going.

She made the best of rangoli in front of the little deity in her kitchen and what colour combinations ! With all demanding things going around her, she still found time for the traditional Dussara celebrations, bringing out the little dolls from the age old boxes and decorate them, inviting women and giving them gifts to take home.

With all this, she volunteered to bring up her daughter's both children during their infant years to facilitate her daughter attend office in peace in a different city.

She bore the wrath of her son as he felt it was she who was responsible for his failure in Class X.
Many times she had to be literally saved from his physical poundings. She would be bruised all over, but still manage to cook and serve a wholesome hot meal to him and her husband without a flinch of the facial muscle. Though her son has mellowed a great deal from then, he still needs care which she unfailingly gives.

She had to take care of him during his convalescence from an accident for over a year and a half a few years ago taking him to hospital, braving his orthopedic surgery, urging him to exercise and what not!

To me she was a Hero then and she is my hero now!

During her early sixties, a gentle nudge from a cyclist of the road gave her a fracture. She still walks with a limp and a walking stick. She braved this too with a smile and 'what to do'?

No excuses from her if you please. She attends all family functions with enthusiasm along with her son however difficult it may be for her. He is 60 years old and she takes him out for visits and outings when he expresses a desire to go out.

Is it mother's love or her genial attitude? I am still to understand.

It isn't over yet. A recent illness had hospitalised her for many days. She has lost sensation in both her palms and still manages half her housework. How? I don't have an answer.

Some years ago she confided to me while attending a function in a temple, "I don't understand this concept of God, and going to temple and praying", she told me. Why such frenzy? Don't we have to fight our battles ourselves? Why such emotional crutch? She asked me.

I don't have an answer.

She is my hero.