Memoirs of Ammumma

Death is an idea we don't toy with everyday in our lives. We might think about our plans for the evening or the weekend, but never do we think about death, even for a joke. I don't know what it is that makes us evade the topic of death. But only death can pull us out of our monotony and shake us vigorously till we take note of it. Death can have a thundering impact or a slight jolt, depending on the level of relationship we share with the person.

We are always made to think of death when we are faced with one. Along with death comes - moments of sadness, recollection and regrets. These thoughts make us tear as we grow to realise that the person we took for granted will no longer be part of our lives.

I had a dear grandmother who passed away a couple of weeks ago. Initially my brain was unable to process the information. No wonder I am writing what I feel only two weeks later. She was a great person - always cheerful and always so full of life. My grandmother (my father's mother) was a very soft-spoken person. I can never understand how a change in tense usage can change the meaning of a person's life. Changing the term from ‘she is’ to ‘she was’ was a leap I had to take- to bridge the gap between past and present.

Normally grand-daughters are closer to only their mother's mother and not father's mother. In Kerala, father's mother is usually closer to her daughters' children. My grandmother was different. Although she was a widow, she courageously took up social responsibilities without any hesitation. So when I was born I had one set of enthusiastic grandparents and one grandmother with a compassionate smile. The differences between both my grandmothers were vast, but for the better I guess for it made me learn a lot of things in life.

It's weird how the English language does not accommodate relationships like my mother tongue does. Like in my mother tongue, my mother's mother is my ammumma and my father's mother is acchama. In my case I fondly called both 'ammumma'. Some of my friends usually don't like their acchama as they are too bossy or domineering.

My acchama was the best of all acchamas. In all my life, she never once raised her voice against me. She always spoke softly. My desperate attempts to speak my mother tongue with her was always a butt of jokes, as I would often mix two languages in order to communicate in one. Patient as she was she never chided me for not knowing Malayalam but chuckled at my hilarious attempts to converse with her. We connected emotionally even though my language signal got disconnected several times.

When I was in school, she would come home without fail at weekends. But as time flew, she moved to Kerala. I met her only when I made my customary visits to meet my great grandmother in Trivandrum.

When I learnt that she passed away, I felt sad. But what made the news bearable was the fact that she died on a festive occasion after taking part in the temple rituals. The fact that she died without suffering made everyone look at the incident positively. But that can never erase who she was and how important she was.

I can still remember her dozing off in the middle of the day and me as a child crouching up to her and asking her in Malayalam - ammumma toongano(are you hanging?) instead of ammumma orangno( are you sleeping?). Now I know what a great difference one word can make in understanding a language. My grandmother never slapped me for asking such a dumb question for she always knew what I really meant.