'Aadam & Havva'

'AADAM & HAVVA'

"ദൈവം അങ്ങനെ ആദത്തെയും ഹവ്വയേയും ഏദൻ തോട്ടത്തിലാക്കി. ഓ! ഏദൻ തോട്ടം എന്നു പറഞ്ഞാ ഇത്രയും നല്ലൊരു തോട്ടം. അവിടെ ഇല്ലാത്ത പഴങ്ങൾ ഇല്ല; ആപ്പിൾ, കൈതച്ചക്ക, ചക്ക, മാങ്ങ, തേങ്ങ, പേരക്ക, ഓറഞ്ച്, സപ്പോട്ട, ചാമ്പക്ക, ളൂവിക്ക, കശുമാങ്ങ, അങ്ങനെ. പിന്നെ പൂക്കളോ, അത് പറയണോ റോസ്, ലില്ലി, താമര, മുല്ലപ്പൂ, ചെമ്പരത്തി, ജമന്തി, ഡാലിയ,... “

“അമ്മാമ്മേ എന്നിട്ടു കഥ ബാക്കി പറ. ഞങ്ങൾക്ക് ഏദൻ തോട്ടം ഒക്കെ അറിയാം."

My sister, Sara would jut in at the hundredth rerun of the story of Adam and Eve. Well Ammama (my grandmother) focused on the fruits, vegetables, flowers, trees and colors of Eden, like any good story teller would. She knew it was not the story that mattered but how it panned out. And I think that is what makes me respect her immensely, to this day.

I have always been her ‘കള്ളൻദൂഷി (kallandhooshi).’ To this day no one has ever been to explain what that word means. And neither did it occur to me to ask her what it meant. But it gives me all the warmth in the world when I hear that word. Well, to all, their grandmothers are the epitome of love. My grandmother is, for me as well but not at all in the traditional way of a grandparent. Truth be told, ammama was never the mollycoddling type. And unlike all grandmothers I know of, she was a terrible cook. She has to her credit the most abominable dish I have ever known – ‘pappada varutha morris’ (I cannot go into explain what it is but imagine having beef and papadam in the same dish together)- it was one of her own inventions and she was so unapologetically giggly about it. She was also not an agile woman as most grandmothers are remembered in their youths. But she taught me in her ways that a woman need not be any of that to be a woman. I think that is where I started taking off.

She also taught Sara and me how to play Rummy and insisted on playing it a zillion times even when she lost every single time. I soon lost interest in the game, because she stopped being a match for me. Still she never tired out.

Ammama grew up in a really wealthy family, the only sister to 10 brothers. She was torn off her easy life and all the wealth post her marriage, but it never shook her. She was forced to return to her parents’ house a few years after her marriage. After her parents’ death she moved on to live alone in a rented house with her kids, lest she and her kids become a burden on her brothers. I have heard those were very difficult times. She would find it difficult to provide for her kids. But my amma (mother) always remember, even in those days ammama never lost her zest for life. And for all the years I have known her she had that zeal for life and was never ready to give up.

Now all this nostalgia might give the impression that ammama and me had the sweetest of relationships. Not in the conventional sense of a grandparent-grandkid any way. We fought incessantly, be mad at each other Most of my teenage years were like that, and now I know it is because both of us were obstinate in our ways. Something which she rubbed off as her legacy. But I do have such fond memories of her telling me a lot of stories – but then the stories weren’t normal. She has told me so many real-life stories of untimely deaths – weirdly for a grandma. I now realize why, because she was terrified of the concept of that finality. 'Ammama, but it was still inappropriate to tell a 10-year-old of those stories!'

Ammama never gave up hope in her life. It showed in the way she would so passionately sit and unknot yarn, I miss her so much when I have to do that myself nowadays. It even showed in the way she taught me Math- yes she taught me Math all my school days. She was not the smartest cookie, but was a ‘never giving up’ cookie. I remember this one day we were doing some Math HW (we were comrades in that) and we could not solve a sum the whole evening and I guess it gnawed at her mind. She woke me up in the middle of the night saying “Annae, I figured out how to solve it.” Though I was too sleepy to follow her, years later I understand she was always incessant about not losing hope. As a woman and a mother, she has gone through some really difficult phase in life, but I have never heard her complain ‘why me?’.

Her infectious laugh, with her shaking and becoming teary from it, is such a fond memory I have of her. She was so full of sarcasm (glee!) and had an unyielding spirit. Her favorite story is one where she took the bus home from her college hostel though her parents told her not to (they were rich you see, so had sent to pick her up). Apparently when she got home she got a good scolding. But each time she told that story, her eyes shined and she could not stop giggling. So I can imagine how nonchalantly she would have taken all that yelling. Sometimes I see bits of her in Sara, who giggles through all my dad’s ticking off.

When she passed away amma found in her crisply starched, neatly folded cotton sarees, a letter and a photo of her and me I had sent her once. That was ammama’s way of fondling me and telling me how much she loved me.

So, I do not have memories of a typical grandma. But I remember a strong woman who told me oft to take life lightly.