Nani Ma

There are moments when my mind, just involuntarily, remembers my grandmother. And I feel suddenly out of breath and a prickling behind my eyes that makes me blink too fast. I remember her smell — of pan, amla oil, detergent and powder all mushed-up together. I remember how she loved her little ghee soaked mithai. How she read the newspaper over 2-3 hours at leisure, discussing random tid-bits of news, analysing them, weighing them against her own experience. How she talked of the old, old days, all the while chewing on some form of supari.  

But I can’t remember any specific words she said to me, though there were a lot of those. Funny how memory works. 

I miss you so much.


3 thoughts on “Nani Ma

  1. You really evoke a sense of nostalgia.
    But tell me, was there ever a bad memory associated with your grandma (I’m assuming Nani ma is grandma)?

  2. Concentrating on the bad aspects is the sure shot cure for nostalgia, except that the past becomes a messy sea of regrets.

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