Balmy and hot, I cannot sleep. The fan creaks as the spokes move in a circular direction, but even after continuous momentum the air is still stagnant. Outside I hear a cacophony of sounds, the horns of taxis and Marutis beeping every two minutes, the hollow high pitched voice of the man selling spintops on the crowded street, and the latest Bollywood songs coming from the rikshas. My thoughts are interrupted by my grandmother, my Nani, who offers me comfort by bringing me three things: a bowl of sitaphul fruit, a single tulsi leaf, and a kiss on my head.
The summer time always stirs memories of my childhood. The months of June through August weren’t spent planning exotic vacations at other locations, but for my parents, it was a chance to go home to India. When my parents migrated to the United States over thirty years ago, they left every single family member behind. And left a large part of their cultural identity in limbo. Even though the distance was daunting, my parents were determined to facilitate a connection between my sister and I and our grandparents. I probably spent a handful of hours with my Nani, but I carry those experiences. Her soothing voice, the smells of her sari, and the softness of her skin still are fresh, even though it has been over twenty years since she has passed. My Nani. My comfort.
* * *
“Nani, Nani, you are so cuddly. I love you so much.” My daughter bellows this across the room. She storms my mother and wraps her in a bear hug. She says, “You are my grandma. Do you know that Nani?” Then she leaves the room, fast, only for a second and rushes again to the same place. “You want to play Memory, Nani?” The game is already set up because she didn’t wait for my Mom’s response. She assumes that she will always play. They play almost five games of Memory and in-between sets, my Mom cuts some strawberries and places them in a white bowl. My daughter talks, laughs, eats the fruit and hugs her Nani again. She fixates on the white skin under my Mom’s arms, fascinated with the jiggle as her finger moves the excess back and forth. “This is so cool Nani.” I don’t think Nani appreciates this humor, but she goes along.
They move to the kitchen and begin making rotis, a popular homemade Indian bread. The rolling pin moves over the dough. My daughter holds up her creation and says, “Is this right, Nani?” With a nod of a head, they both roll their pins in unison while laying out each roti like it is a treasured jewel. “You did a great job.” I hear my Mom say to my daughter. In response, a giggle comes out from her mouth and these words, “This is so much fun. I love you Nani.” Her Nani. Her comfort.
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What are some of your fondest memories of your grandmothers? Did they offer you a sense of comfort?
Welcome! I am a lawyer turned freelance writer, essayist, and editor. On staff at Literary Mama and the co-founder and co-editor of the literary journal, The Sunlight Press, my essays and reported work have appeared in The Washington Post, The Lily, Saveur, Civil Eats, Brain, Child, ESPN and elsewhere. I am currently at work on a memoir on grief and culture and how it provides perspective on life’s ordinary graces. I invite you to appreciate the ordinary with me. I hope my daily practice of seeing the magic in the mundane helps you celebrate and find more of these moments in your life too.
Your daughter will carry these memories in her heart just as you have of your Nani. Such a sweet post.
I know she will carry this feeling. My mom and her have so many unscripted moments that I really believe she will recall when she is older. Especially when she sees the pictures of her and her Nani.
This is an amazing, evocative post. I love every word, and I am so so glad you captured it here. Just perfect.
Thanks Christine. I really appreciate your compliment. Your words have often provided me with inspiration. xoxo
Oh this is beautiful. So vividly you paint these memories, and I love how the memories you and your daughter share are different, yet laced with the same joy and comfort.
Always a pleasure to hear your voice in my space. Thank You.
Okay, now I’m craving rotis! Mmmm…
This is such a sweet post, Rudri. It truly is such a wonderful thing for the kids to experience the love of a grandparent. My son is lucky to have all three grandparents nearby — all showering him with unconditional love, something we all want and need.
Yes. Grandparents often provide that unconditional love and I am grateful that my daughter is able to experience this comfort.
Rudri, what a sweet post. My grandmother meant so much to me growing up. she passed away right before I turned sixteen. I have missed her ever since. She always put me first and my happiness meant so much to her. She was an amazing woman and I wish I had her a little longer.
I am so glad Ayala that you were able to treasure sixteen years of memories with your grandma. Yes, we always want that unconditional love to last a little more. xoxo
Oh my God! I used to play with that flappy, soft arm skin on my own grandmother. What is it that makes it so irresistible to a child?
No idea. I am certain it makes the grandmas feel like they are instantly 10 years older!
Rudri: this is a beautiful account of you, your daughter, and your Nanis. I have never had a close relationship to my grandparents, but my husband has. When our lives joined–through marriage–I was lucky to be adopted by his grandparents. Some of my favorite memories involve them, both sets, and I feel incredibly blessed to be surrounded by such love. My kids are also lucky, all 3 sets of their grandparents (my husband’s parents are divorced and remarried) are alive and very much a part of their lives. They love their Nanas and Papas.
So lovely to hear that you, as well as your children have experienced grandparent love. It is so fun and amusing to watch them interact with their grandchildren. And that love is certainly palapable.
Lovely post, Rudri. There really is such a special bond between children and grandparents – if they’re lucky. I knew both my grandmothers into early adulthood. I consider myself very fortunate. One, my mother’s mother, I was extremely close to. She was my model of strength and grace, a woman I could sit with quietly, and I frequently think of her, more than 20 years after her passing.
Your daughter will have her memories as well. How delicious for all of you.
What a beautiful image Wolfie. I can just envision you sharing your space with your own grandma.
This topic makes me so sad. One of my grandmothers died when I was 4 and I remember her and our time together like it was yesterday. I stil miss her. My other grandmother decided she didn’t want to speak to us anymore (for no reason) about 12 years ago and I haven’t seen her since. We were very close. I miss her too.
Oh, Tiffany. I understand why this topic might stir some painful memories.
I certainly hope their is a chance for reconciliation in the future.
This is lovely, Rudri. I don’t have many memories of my own grandmothers, but the way you’ve captured the relationship is how I’ve always imagined it would be.
What a lovely compliment my friend. Thank you.