Excerpt-3
from "By the River Pampa I Stood"
A burning candle.
That’s what she often reminded me of. Attired in her crisp, white mundu-chatta-kavani - the traditional dress of the Syrian Christian woman of Kerala – she stood tall and stately, her golden hair creating a halo around her fair, radiant face.
Like a candle with a golden flame.
Even in her eighties she was exuberant and perky as ever; bubbling with energy and vitality as she went about, helping people, filling lives around with love and laughter.
If you think it’s about another Mother Teresa, dear PeaJay, you are sadly mistaken.
For she was no saint.
At least in the eyes of mortals, that is.
She was one who broke rules. And for that matter, broke hearts too!
She was one who reversed the Dos and Don’ts that convention demanded of her. Dos that were not meant to become Don’ts. Don’ts that were never meant to become Dos. And that too, in a society that was highly sensitive to the slightest infringement of its conventions.
She broke rules….
…….Rules that were never to be amended.
And broke hearts in the process….
…….Hearts that were never to be mended.
Which, obviously, made her a sinner. In the eyes of society. In the eyes of the world.
But not in mine. For she was my favourite grandmother!
"Rules", she once told me, "are like a heap of dry twigs. You tread on one intentionally and you end up breaking not one, but a good number of them, all unintentionally".
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8 comments:
The Ammachy in your book sounds alot like Sarah's ammachy over at Immigrant in Canada! Good for us that we had some of these feisty women around.
You're right, Suze. I guess I had mentioned this to Sarah sometime back. I guess this species of grandmothers is fast becoming extinct. I often think that when I'm one, we would have only jeans-clad grannies around!
Grannies are special people. I only knew one grandmother and she was also strong willed and not afraid to say what she was thinking. I remember once hearing her telling my Mother that my youngest sister was too young to date and she couldn`t go even though my mother had already given her permission. Took my Dad to end this time when he told his mother-in-law that we loved her, but her daughter was a great mother and knew what was best for her own children. She was living with my parents and she never gave orders like that again.
We all loved her.She spent time teaching me how to crochet her bedspread pattern. I still have her needles today.
Happy Easter.
I had a granny who rode horses, the only one who rode a horse solo at that period.
That must be roughly 60 years ago much before I was born. I have just seen a few faded pics of the act from her box wrapped in satin cloth.
She was also from your country.
dot: nice to hear about your grandma...
jac: wow! a granny on a horseback! Interesting!
That analogy about treading on dry twigs as one might on conventions is powerful. Thanks for a wonderful excerpt.
Prashant
That was one of the quotes I thought people should remember long after they've read the book. I am glad you liked it.
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