Tagged! and back to some roots..

whats this I've been tagged by DeeCee to write about my weekend? Argh! well one has to have a certain degree of respect for these customs of cyberspace i suppose.. first time i have been tagged though. It feels like i have been initiated into society or something and it gave me a kinda warm feeling inside to be so thoughtfully remembered...

Ok so...

Last weekend I decided to go visit my grandma. Don’t do that often. And I think it’s the first time I’m going by myself to see her. She's 81. And still the coolest lady i ever had the pleasure of knowing.

Took the bus to the hill country where I was born and spent the first few toddling years of my life ever so long ago. Reached my hometown around 8 on Friday after taking my own cool time getting there. The air was that fresh dampness you get when it has just ceased raining a little while ago and it is cool and inviting and just seemed to electrify my lungs. I breathed it in as I walked across the bridge. The landscape loomed dark and green in the dusk. I removed my earphones from my ears and let the silence wash over a screaming Marylin Manson song. And I again remembered how wonderful it is to come home.

Umma greeted me with her usual enthusiasm. 'Anee my patiya!’ I had initially planned on surprising her but then I found out that she wouldn’t be able to cook me any dinner if I went late so that was that for the surprise plan. Because if you tasted her food even once you wouldn’t dream of eating out.

Well the weekend that followed was a mix bag of relaxation, emotion, tears and laughter. Learned a lot of family history during the chats we had just me and her. Sometimes morbid. Sometimes sad. Sometimes happy and sometimes downright hilarious. My uncle, the former alcoholic turned Japanese chef and one of my grandmas favorites, my uncle the cop who passed away tragically in 2004, my uncle the womanizing ballroom dancer turned uber-religious preacher, my uncle the control freak who is lovingly known as 'Boss' (whenever he is not in hearing range that is) in family circles etc. Stories unfolded with the slow deliberateness and patience of years of endurance and I listened on the edge of my seat. Sometimes with glee. Sometimes in sorrow but always with unwavering interest.

She told me stories of prosperity lost. Fortune found. Treachery, disappointments, misunderstandings, love and happiness. Of a time when infants died during births which were simply done at home with the aid of midwives. She told me of her father, who was an extremely wealthy man and fathered 21 children from 3 wives during the course of his life!

Her mother died when she was six and she was brought up by her grandma while her father re-married. And married again when his second wife passed away as well. Each of his 21 children, as was the norm in those times, went on to have at least 7 or 8 children of their own. And by now their children and grandchildren have spread across the country and the globe.

What a massive family. I probably don’t even know 5% of them. And that’s only from one of my grandparent’s side. An I had 3 more whom I never had fortune of knowing so well!

I love the way she speaks to me. She patronizes me of course (as I suppose she is entitled to), but she really opens up and speaks about a lot of stuff. I ask her once again to move in with us. Like my mom does all the time. Like my other uncles and aunts and cousins do every day. Endearing her to come and stay. But no, she says. She doesn’t like the weather. It's too warm. She wants to be independent. She has her own house, she has her pastimes, why should she leave and be a burden on others? She says. I understand. But still I am worried. I am worried about how much more time I would get to spend with her.

She gave me a generous dose of pocket money when I left, tucking it into my wallet before I noticed and literally slammed the door on my protestations that I am working now and in reality should be helping her out. I conceded eventually, so she came out one last time and gave me one last hug before I left. That’s my grandma. Always cool. Always composed. Extremely loving. Sometimes stubborn but always sensible.

So much for my weekend.