Remembering Ammumma

The Woman Who Loved Me With Playful Abandon

Dear Reader,

Warm greetings from India! 

You guys read my newsletter and that's why I am writing, opening up  and sharing with you a bit of my world.

As I type these words to you, I want you to know that I have just battled my worst fears. Yes, I have travelled from Delhi to Kochi on a Vistara flight that had several honeymoon couples heading to Kerala. I kept asking myself whether the honeymoon couples have any idea that this is probably not the best time to explore God's Own Country. You know about the increasing number of COVID cases in Kerala, right?

Not a great time to explore and opt for the travel trail but Kerala's October rains weave a dreamy spell. Let me confess - I love being in Kerala when it rains cats and dogs.

By the way, I am on a trip to meet my parents after months, just so that you know! 

My mother's birthday is around the corner.

After reaching Kochi, I went out with my cousins after ages and had a great time at a restaurant called Sri Krishna Inn that evokes good old memories. Yes, this is the quaint looking building that I have shown in today's newsletter. It used to be one of our family favourites as all of us are vegetarians. When we stepped in, memories came flooding back, a palimpsest of glorious yesteryears that are now tinted with nostalgia. 

You get the drift, right?

We all have elders in our lives who shape our values and thoughts while we were still children.

When I read The Tale of a Beautiful Heart , it felt as though memories of my grandmother (Ammumma, as we Malayalis call our Grandmother) flooded back. 

It's the kind of love that has no parallel because grandmothers just want to see you grow up and stay happy. Her laughter, her playfulness and her fingers untying with so much love my very messed up 'dreadlocks' with jasmine oil bring me glimpses of my own innocence as she journeyed with me step by step through my growing years.

I thought of all the times when I wasn't exactly the best granddaughter and you know what, I realised it didn't make any difference to my grandmother for one simple reason: she loved me with playful abandon.

Our silly quarrels about sillier things such as her love for 'pavakka' with every meal (bittergourd was her must-have food item!) and insisting that I eat it was a continuing bone of contention between us, as was her love for Pears soap, Jasmine Oil and a daily glass of Horlicks before bedtime.

These were areas of firm resistance whenever she tried to bring it up in my life.

And that's just a tip of the iceberg. 

We quarreled about much more and said terrible things to each other and we made up faster than we quarreled.

The best part of our relationship was that I knew she loved me and didn’t judge me for my many flaws and she wanted nothing more than to see me happy.

A very quiet, soft-spoken lady whose life was always centred around Ernakulathappan, the presiding deity of the Lord Shiva temple in Ernakulam,  my grandmother did not raise her voice to be heard but she always got things done her way - now when I think of my grandmother, I am thinking out loud, "Wow, isn't that something?" 

She didn't plan her life.

She let her faith in Lord Shiva plan instead.

She didn't know how to exploit people. 

She believed in always adhering to 'Maryada' in her relationships and never taking anyone for granted.

She loved admiring grand houses and beautiful jewellery but not on herself and more than anything, my grandmother cared more about character than beauty. She raised her only daughter -my mother - to epitomise the values that she herself believed in.

Look around and it begins to feel that CHARACTER is probably a Greek word.

Today, I feel my grandmother's strength within me, not only to see through people and what matters in the real world, I also feel her voice guiding me through my happiest and saddest moments. 

To think of my grandmother, to gaze at the memory of her being alive through me, feels like I am in meditation. I feel calm and safe because she didn't love me to get something out of me.

And that makes ALL the difference to a child.

To remember Ammumma is to remember an ocean of deep love that still exists for me, with dreams as our secret code.

Memories are never time bound. 

Love has no language.

Truth will triumph but in real life, liars are rewarded. 

In daily life, Ammumma taught me these precious truths.

Enough teary-eyed conversations for now!  I am simply and most humbly grateful that I had a grandmother who didn't love me to gain something from me even when I was hardly a lovable person.  Wrapping up with some interesting reads from the Internet:

Want to start your podcast? Read this detailed article on 6 solopreneur podcasters who don't do this full time! 

A Punjabi Princess in Kapurthala is a fascinating story. With the upcoming festive season in India, I plan to feature a few of the brands that I really trust. 

Keep your festive shopping lists ready, I have some fun-filled reccos for you next week!

You can mail me at swapnazanand@gmail.com and I would love to connect though we have never met. Yes, the pleasure is truly mine:)