My hero...

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 to be as well. “These are things borrowed from nature, so you have to be careful when using them,” she would say.

She paid a lot of attention to what she was doing and did it slowly and meticulously with her delicate hands. It was a pleasure watching her go about doing what she does best.

Valiamma was mildly deaf. You had to go near her and talk to her in a higher volume if you had to ask her a question or have a discussion. I asked her once if she was sad that she could not join a conversation. She responded, "This is God's gift to me. I get plenty of time to do my japam (mental prayer). And I don't have to hear what I don't need to. Anything I need to know you will come and tell me, right? That is good enough for me.” Not once did I hear her talk ill of anyone or gossip.

I would wait for the evenings when she would finally sit down after working and we could talk.  During dusk, after lighting the lamp at the altar and reciting the prayers, she would put a straw mat down on the verandah (porch) outside and sit with her legs stretched out. She would always have a vishari (handheld palm leaf fan) and would swing it back and forth in front of her face. That was my cue to start asking my questions. She was very private… but being the youngest granddaughter had its advantages. Even though she was reluctant to answer at first, she would relent to her littlest granddaughter’s nagging inquisitiveness.

Life was not easy for her. Born in 1903 as the daughter of a successful lawyer in Ooty (Ambalakat Achutha Menon), she lived there for the first part of her life. She was even one of the only Indian students in an all-white school during the British era. When she was around 12 or so, her father passed away. Being part of a matrilineal society where you are not entitled to any inheritance from your father’s side, she was sent back to Kerala to her maternal grandmother’s house along with her mother and siblings. Her mother became a young widow with three small children. Depressed over the loss of her sweet natured husband, her mother went into a shell and my grandmother had to help take care of her young siblings. She had lots of help though. It was a joint family. Many of her aunts and their children were there too. It was a contented life she said.

At age 15 she was married to my grandfather (Ullatil Karunakara Menon) who was 20 years her senior. She was very beautiful by then with thick long flowing tresses that went beyond her knees. Having long hair was the fashion then and many women during that era were very blessed with it. She shifted to Madras (now Chennai) as he was working with the British Government.

Grandma's eldest daughter Rohini with her parents

She had a baby when she was 16 in 1919. Her name was Rohini. She died when she was five from an infection. My grandmother never talked about her to anyone, but she opened up to me when I was pregnant with Anand, my firstborn. As we were sitting on the porch one day, she unexpectedly said, "Love him dearly as you don't know how long God has given him to be in your possession." I was shocked by that comment and then she revealed more. Being a really young mother, managing a house and a baby in Madras was hard. Her husband being so much older was not much help as he was working and travelling a lot for his job with the British government. She was an amazing mother to all her children and an amazing grandmother to all of us, but she felt she was not a good mother to Rohini. "I used to beat her if she got naughty," she told me. "I wish I didn't now, if only I had known she would be with me only for a few years!". She never laid her hand on any of her other children or grandchildren after that.

She moved back to her maternal home in a remote village after my grandfather died, much later in her life. It is that time I remember about her the most. She lived for others. Not once have I heard the word “I” from her. Valiamma never expressed her desires or her wishes. She was contented with whatever she had. She was an avid reader. She read anything that came her away. She was fluent in both English and Malayalam. She read the newspaper every day, her only window to the world. This was an era where there were no TVs in houses let alone telephones in remote areas.

My grandmother's house

She was extremely sensitive and took care of anyone who came to work for her as her own. Once there was a very pregnant lady who came to work after the paddy (rice before threshing or in the husk) was harvested. Her name was Kali. There were many women whose job was to boil the paddy and then spread them on mats on the ground to dry, using their legs. Watching them leaning on the pillar on the bench (padi) of the porch was my pastime. Kali seemed very uncomfortable. She was wiping her tears every now and then and the other women were talking to her in hushed tones and she was shaking her head. Knowing that something was wrong, I immediately went and reported it to my grandmother who came right away to inquire about the problem. Kali disclosed that her little infant was sick and alone at home, and she was worried. My grandmother said she should go home to her child immediately. “How will I buy food and medicines for my family then?” Kali asked. My grandmother became visibly upset. She knew that the daily wages she gave sustained many families. Kali was her responsibility. She immediately called Kuttan Nair, her manager as well as the person entrusted to manage the harvest and instructed him to make all the arrangements necessary so that Kali didn’t need to work for the rest of her pregnancy, as well as enough to support her family.

This was one of the biggest lessons in my life. Seeing Kali in pain upset me greatly and I could not stop thinking about it for the rest of the day. Valiamma’s kindness surprised me as well because even though she had a comfortable life, she did not have too much to spare. Yet she was so generous with everyone.  Like the other nights, I was waiting for her to finish all her work and sit on the mat at dusk with me. When she finally arrived, I asked her why there was so much disparity in the world. “Why do some people have everything and others have nothing, Valiamme?” I enquired.  She said everything is written on your head before you are born. She explained how karma works. And then she counseled me with what is one of the most profound pieces of advice I have ever received. "Don't take anything you get in life for granted or as your right, for it is God’s gift to you which you could lose anytime he wishes to take it from you. It is also a chance God is giving you to help others who don't have much. Just because you have everything doesn’t mean you enjoy it without sharing it with the poor and needy. Have a mind that looks out for others, feel the pain that others feel and be there for them.”

Did the pain she suffered help her to achieve this wisdom? I am not sure… but she definitely practiced what she preached. To me, she will always be my loving grandmother, but more so than that… She is my hero.

More about her here: https://ammusmusings.blogspot.com/2020/08/onam-ponnonam-memories-from-my-childhood.html

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God…. Matthew 5:8