Kissaa Kahaani

April 18, 2011

I Miss You – 1

Filed under: The Memories Unfogged — MK @ 6:29 pm
Tags: , , , ,

Its so easy to see the the title above and to get an idea that I am missing my beau. But at this very moment, I am missing some very close people, some of my own. I miss them with a regret that even though I had many chances I was not able to spend time with them. I miss them with the agony that either I was too young to understand the meaning they had in my life or I was too self centered. This series of posts is my way of remembering them, my way of loving them… My both sets of Grandparents and my youngest sister.

Nani

My Nani my mother’s mother was a thin, frail woman, with kind face and cow-web wrinkles and a hunchback which she got after a terrible accident and could never recover, Full of energy and constant squabbling. What I remember about her is her fragrance- a motherly soothing fragrance; white crisp cotton sari; protruding veins in her hands which I referred to as earthworm; her cribbing over my grandfather’s teasing; her paan stained teeth; her thick spectacles; her constant talks…

Last time I saw my Nani was ten years back. Exactly ten years. I hate myself- I had a dozen chances to go and visit her but I never did. One thing or the other took precedence. Excuses. All excuses. After my board exams, I went to my Nani’s place and there only I got the board results out- my dad called to say I got 78%- highest in his family (I am not counting my cousin’s marks) and highest in my mother’s family too! The record is long since broken. The point is I saw pride in my Nani’s watery eyes. Yes, I remember that. I remember atleast 15 years back, when she came to visit us, she would take a bowl of Mustard Oil and make us us sit down and rub that oil all over our bodies saying that my mom was not good enough to be mom as she does not massage us kids with mustard oil!!

I remember that during our rare conversation phone, she would weep and say- “Mamta wont you come and see me before I die?” She knew her daughter gave her three granddaughters- she only remembered my name.

I remember the stories she told me- the way she told those stories- with animated hands and face she would narrate- she would lower her voice and she would tell us the most awe inspiring tales which sound ridiculous today but I love those stories as much as I love my Nani The stories of “Sindoor ka Pul”, “Naag Mani”, “Raja ki eklauti beti”. I am going to tell my grandkids those stories one day. For sure.

I no longer have my Nani with me. The lady who was better than my mom, the woman who was so fragile but wore 9 children and showed her strength in bringing up her kids- I miss that woman in my life.

Nani I know its too late, but would you smile down upon me? Would you please massage my tired shoulders once again? Nani my own story has become so complicated, can you please narrate that Bihari version of “Frog Prince” story and take my mind off from my issues? Nani I want to share that tiny piece of paan leaf, betel leaf with me because the lunch today was horrible. Nani I want to eat Dahi-Chuda with you. Nani I want to poke those protruding veins on your hands and see you laugh at my naivety. Nani just a sign I need that you forgive me for not visiting you, that you still love me. Because I do love you.

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