I was recently driving through villages along with 3 more women who happend to be my grandmother, mother and my aunt. The places we were going through are very remote and so small that they dint have proper roads. they had old buildings and some are ruined. for me they were very romantic. being born and brought up in cities, some big and some small. always a city. So all these seemed very dreamy and romantic for my very romantic mind. But for grandmother it was her childhood and for my mother and aunt it was their holiday time. When we were in car or after that 3 days of small village exploring my granny could not stop talking about her younger days. About her parents her siblings and her oh so many memories. Mind you i have heard them all. When i was a child myself. When i used go to grandparents, my grandmother in tyhe evening after all her work was done she used to sit with me out in the night under the stars and tell me stories about her life while applying oil to my haior or henna to my hands or feeding me something or just massing my head. i used soak up all the stories and fall aslee along with her on the bed made with wires. after all these years i was listening to these stories and i thought i need to make a note of them so i get to tell storeies to kids later on or else i will totally forget them. wich i dont want to. My granmother one among the 9 kids and 2 in the line is one of the strongest and indipendent women i was lucky enought to meet let alone related to. So i am going make a note of her life. Only the good parts. I dont want her life to be gone in the wind. I am going put up pics and write what ever i vcan and what ever she can tell me or remember. She is around 80 . obsessed with telivision, amazing cook, especially the traditional telugu food, a loyal sister, papmperd daughter. A mother who still keep her kids under her thumb and grandmother who still pampers her grandkids inspite that they are grown. She is partial to male species. she has 4 kids. One Son followed by 3 daughtes. the 3rd child who is my mother. So obviosly she partial to her Son and 2 grandsons who are my brothers. This srory is hers. It does not matter even if no one reads it. This is about her a woman who did not what electricity was to a woman who uses a smart phone. a woman who loves travelling, perfumes, food. A woman who is so stong that she refuses to cry. Who is scared of dark but still lives alone. A woman insipte of many backlashes still manages to stand tall and strong. A woman who everyone loves but never cross that line she draws. Hope i can do justice to her stories and to her in some way.
On the way to Visakhapatnam (Vizag) in a SUV, and very long drive. Chill in the air and body tired and my granny gives me a piping hot coffee in a portable cup. Perfect south Indian filter coffee. And my iPod was playing “dream a little dream of me”. Some moments seems perfectly content, this one was one of them.