Amma
It was a beautiful evening, I was napping in my bed when I heard her soft voice calling out my name like she always did when I stretched my evening naps a little too long for her pleasing. Increasing assertion on the last part of my name each time it failed to break my stupor. Maaya, . .. . Maaya. . . . MaayA. . . . . . . .. MAAYA!!. I finally woke up, rubbing my eyes, I raised my head from my pillow. I was elated to see her and happiness filled me. There she was, just as I had seen her everyday all through my life. Her dark chocolate skin adorned with wrinkles, proof of a life both long and full of memories, her wrinkled face with her toothy smile and thick silver grey hair combed back into a firm ponytail. Her plain checkered kurta with her Odhani with a light lacing, tucked in on the left and left loose on right. Her deep green petticoat and signature silver Kade [broad silver amulets worn on ankles]. It really was her. She looked healthy and graceful like she always had. I raised my arms like a child wanting to be picked up as I sat in my bed and she sat close to me. I could not hold the surge of emotions that erupted in my belly as I hugged her tight. Curls of her loose hair on the nape touching my lashes. I could smell her usual mix of coconut oil with a slight hint of mustard mixed with her own loving warmth. The beautiful smell I had grown up with, the soft touch of her winkled hands as she sang me folksongs to sleep. I held onto her like a clingy child on first day of school. I did not want to let go of her. I cried and told her how much I had missed her, how I was truly sorry for not having been able to meet her one last time before the doctors ran out of options and gave up. My brain started racing into a thousand thoughts and I realized, grandma was long gone, this could not be happening. She had been frail, weak and badly bruised with all the probing and probing the doctors had done to her body with multiple surgeries and needles to treat her metastatic breast cancer that had slowly spread to her lungs and was making its way to her left brain before she went onto the ventilator. I had read her reports myself. I witnessed her last rites.
My eyes started filling up with tears as all those memories of seeing her in pain, in the hospital bed, needled like a tapestry in the making with needles and catheters attached to IVY bag and bottles for medicine. The images of her sunken face filled with sadness post surgery started to flood my mind and tears pooled into my eyes. I tried telling her how much I had missed her, and how I felt totally orphaned now that she was gone, since she was my whole world after my parents parted ways. Not that I shared much with them even when they were together in my life. As my nose stifled and tears choked my words I suddenly woke up with a tear that touched my left cheek right under my eye and I sprang up. I was lying alone in my bed, it was 4:30 am and there was no light except for my phone that I had just switched on. I looked around, a little sad, but somehow I also felt comforted, like getting a closure or a last goodbye. Seeing her healthy and graceful as I remember brought me a sense of peace and I went back to sleep. A peaceful sleep, after months of restlessness. I do not know much, about dream interpretations; what I do understand is that she lives in my heart and shows up in my dream for a rendezvous anytime I am overwhelmed. For that, I am truly grateful.
Beautiful
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