Granny Tales 101: Chapter 2

Home isn’t home without dadi around. Everything reminds me of her. We all have our own ways of coping. In my case, I’m coping on varying scales with different things, so I finally channelised my energy into writing when it came to dadi dearest.

After her passing, I wrote a very short poem which aptly described what I was feeling. So I’m sharing that poem with you here.

Why did you just disappear?

When you know you’re

Our dadi dear,

But you’re so strong,

We have nothing to fear,

You’re always with us

Even if you’re not here.
A big hello to my rockstar up there who is watching over me, being my guardian angel like she always was.

Granny Tales 101: Chapter 1

I thought a lot about what could go up as the first anecdote. The problem is, you can never pick just one incident that is close to your heart. So I’m just going ahead with the first one that popped up when I began writing this.

When I was a little child, I was always excited about excursions. My school used to plan day-long picnics to amusement parks in the city. I wasn’t, and I’m still not, a huge fan of these parks because I get dizzy on rides. The only thing I enjoyed about the outing was munching on snacks and being with my small group of friends, who fortunately never made fun of my fears and still chose me as their ‘excursion partner’.

GRANNY TALES 101

The last few weeks have been quite tough. I lost my grandmother and death is seldom a welcome visitor or shall I say, never a welcome visitor. Dadi, as my sister and I fondly called her, was very close to me (and the whole family, but I’m going to stick to my personal account here). She’s seen me grow from a baby who could barely mouth words to a journalist and designer who runs her own company. And she had a huge role to play in it all. Her absence has created a void that can never be filled – not in my home, not in my heart.

LEARNING TO BE PATIENT FROM 8-YR-OLDS

Being a teacher isn’t an easy job when you’re averse to the idea of children. The noise, the tantrums, the mischief, the pranks and perhaps, even the inquisitive mind, can make children a difficult lot to handle if you’re low on patience. And yet, teachers stick on. They tolerate the naughtiness and the squeaky voices and sometimes, even miss it in the rather mundane, sophisticated company of organised, well-mannered adults. They stay not simply because they need to teach the ‘future generation’. It is the image of those innocent faces, curious eyes, oily ponytails and carefree smiles that makes them want to stay. It is in the little hurdles that they cross that a teacher experiences unmatched happiness. And the love received is multi-fold that you could never walk out of that classroom even on a bad day. 

“Inside the classroom, there is love and acceptance like there is in few other places”

Teaching is one profession where it isn’t merely the student that’s learning something new. Children are often a mirror of those values that adults seem to lose in their quest for a better life or simply because they wear the mask of adulthood. Whether it’s an undying curiosity or the thirst for learning, young minds can teach us more than we can imagine.

In our second part of this series, we see what chirpy, intelligent and creative adolescents from the 6th to 10th grade learn from 23-year-old Yashasvini Rajeshwar. A Humanities graduate from the prestigious Indian Institute of Technology, Madras (IIT-M), Yashasvini teaches English as a second language at a private school on the Tamil Nadu-Kerala border. The school caters to children (largely first-generation learners) of the local tribes in and around the area. From learning adjectives and prepositions to having their pieces published in national dailies, the beaming faces of these children coupled with their undying spirit is what keeps her going. As she opens their eyes to the world of Marquez and Wordsworth, she learns a lot more about life and being grateful. 

UNCERTAINTY

Uncertainty.

They say that change is constant. But who’re we fooling? Uncertainty is.

It hits you like a cloud burst on a summer morning,

Leaving you numb, shaken and motionless,

Plunging you in blinding darkness.

A parched tongue,

A lump in your throat,

A stomach churn,

A sinking boat.

When the rosy pink turns to a pale white,

You wonder, if it finally was,

Worth the fight.

 

Uncertainty.

The unwanted visitor

Who knocks at your door,

To tell you blatantly,

Family is one less than four.

You pause, you stagger, you scream, you fall,

What’s that you said about standing tall?

 

Uncertainty.

Its destiny playing an unfair game,

Forcing you down memory lane.

Taking the road back to home,

Asking you why you live alone?

Urging you to cut the distance,

Trying hard to knock some sense.

Bringing you back to family and friends,

Making you wonder if it had to end?

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME?

I pondered over how I want to write this. But there is nothing that struck me. It’s been a month and perhaps the best way to say it, is by keeping it simple and sweet.

Simple questions with simple answers. It all started with a suggestion from one of my blog followers. Since then, it got me thinking.

When was the last time we actually enjoyed life? To pinpoint what enjoy means is definitely a bit hard. But if you had to pick one from the recent past, which incident would you recollect?

WHAT MAKES CHENNAI HOME

To me, Chennai is home. It has been home for the last twenty one years. Whether I decide to settle in London or Paris, Bihar or Kerala, Chennai will be my home. But what’s there in Chennai? Why is it synonymous to home?

Well, what Chennai is to me, Delhi or Bombay is to you. My childhood memories, the sights and sounds of Chennai, the people, the history, the culture, the food – that gives it the feel of home.

PHOTOGRAPHS

My sister rang the bell from downstairs. I was on the floor above. I ran to the stairs and asked her what it was. She told me the cart had come. I could hear the characteristic tune of Sai Baba’sbhajans ringing from the street. It was the cart indeed. I wore my slippers and went out.