My paternal grandma passed away ten days ago. Since my maternal grandma was dead before I was born, she was the only grandma that I had and knew.
Born around 1930, no one is sure of the exact year, she had lived close to 80 years of life on this earth. She was born and bought up in a small town called Gangaikondan near the southern tip of the subcontinent. She must have spent till her mid teens there, before she married Grandpa who was a draughtsman and moved to Madras around the 1949.
She has had about 10 child births and 11 children, of whom 8 of them grew up to become adults. This means that she had been pregnant for close to 1/8th of her life. The difficulties that she should have underwent bringing up 8 children in what could best be described as a lower middle class family is unimaginable to our generation, brought up in the nuclear family in a globalised and liberal economy.
She had a great attitude towards life, which definitely helped her in surviving close to a quarter of a century after the death of our grandfather.
My memories of her are that of a friendly matriarch, who helped me get ready to go to primary school by combing my hair and tying my shoe laces. On Friday evenings, she would take me for a walk to the temple nearby and tell me stories of mythology. She was a woman of those times when people were happy seeing others being happy.
She had very good eyesight, reading magazines even until a year ago, without wearing glasses. We are proud that we could donate her eyes with the consent of everyone concerned.
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