𝑨𝒎𝒎𝒖'𝒔 𝑴𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔!

We all have someone in our lives who invokes special memories, don’t we? A warm, fuzzy feeling when you think about them? For me it is my maternal grandmother. She has always been someone I look up to. Many a time and even now, when I need to make a crucial decision or find myself in a difficult situation, I would think, “What would Valiamma do?” Even though Ammama is the usual term for a grandmother, Valiamma is what her grandchildren called her. She was strong yet quiet, soft-spoken, gentle, and kind. She wore her hair in a bun and was always clad in the whitest veshti/mundu (traditional Kerala attire) that was starched and dipped in indigo water. No matter how much she worked in the kitchen it would never get dirty. She would be busy all day taking care of the household. Valiamma was an expert in making spicy pickles, snacks, and different kinds of tasty dishes. She knew how to use oil and other ingredients sparingly, and was very conscious about wastefulness and would advise us all

Mangoes… As I was eating the juicy mangoes that my husband bought from Costco, a memory just popped into my mind. An interesting incident happened one year when I hired a taxi. Taxi drivers in India are a fascinating group of people with tidbits of captivating information and anecdotes. They see so much on their trips, taking various people to various places. Sometimes, conversations with them can be very interesting, if they are willing to share. There was one driver, who I hired once in my hometown. Murali was a young-looking man, very shy and soft-spoken.   He was stout, clean-shaven with curly black hair, slicked back with coconut oil. His shirt was well pressed, and he was wearing a nice white dhoti and rubber chappals. As we passed a certain area, I told Murali that this is where my family used to live many years ago. Murali said his house was close by too. In his shy soft voice, he asked me exactly where my home was. I told him the location. He asked me if it was the house