Yesterday Ammachi passed away.
Around 3-4 weeks ago I spoke to Ammachi on a Whatsapp video call, she asked me how my studies were going and if it were time for exams. I explained that I’d graduated and that there were no exams left and spoke for a bit before switching to speak to other relatives. A few minutes later, Ammachi again came on call to ask me if how my studies were going and I had exams to attend.
Her memory had deteriorated and was now having trouble recalling events of even just 3 minutes back.
Two-three weeks ago she fell on her way to the bathroom, this was probably the starting.
Two weeks ago she was found in bed, unconscious and not responding to calls. Doctors found blood in her head and suggested we not do surgery since she wasn’t fit enough for it.
Some days later she was released from the hospital, nothing had changed, she was unconscious as before, breathing and body perfectly functional but unresponsive to stimulus.
Everyone knew that the end was probably near for her. Parents did uprashima. A prayer the priest does when we believe the person won’t make it.
And yesterday she passed away, in her sleep. At 88 years of age.
Time tends to erase the memory of your loved ones. How saddening that is.
So I thought I’d write down all I can remember of her, so that it may be remembered a short while longer.
She was perhaps a bit unlike every other granny.
She:
Once threw a sickle at my fathers shin when he was young, and had caused trouble.
Would create bitter gourd juice and make chachan drink it. It was painful to watch him drink it.
Once cooked a squirrel that fell from a a tree and died. No one else but her tried the squirrel. Everyone felt bad for the squirrel, she thought it was delicious.
At one point child me for some reason thought sambar and uppumavu was a good combination, she went and made sambar specifically because I mentioned this and started giving me and my brother this combination. The sambar was just good.
My mother used to claim that Ammachi was able to cut through vegetables faster than anyone else she knew or had seen. I never got to see this for myself. Ammachi later had far too much time on her hands and liked to take her time cutting vegetables.
Cutting vegetables, watching overly dramatic Indian tv serials and eating fruits were something of a passion of hers.
Fruits would always go bad when she wasn’t around, never when she was however. Walk for a bit through the house. Banana. Walk walk walk. Banana. Repeat with new fruit etc.
When Ammachi was around, demand for fruit would go up dramatically. There was a sense of “If I don’t eat a fruit now, there won’t be any left!”.
She loved pindi, which is the stem of Banana Trees. Pindi and all the other vegetables she used to eat was often considered the source of her health. And boy was she healthy, for her age. Even my parents were seeing troubles in their blood test, my grandmother wasn’t.
The Indian drama shows she used to watch all had grannies that were far less healthy and needed a wheelchair to move around in. So did many of the people around her. She however was, pretty much fine.. She coveted the attention the worn out grandparents were getting from their children and grandchildren. And she’d pretend to be more sick than she actually was. We could all see through this guise though.
Recently though, we could tell that she wasn’t pretending, her age had caught up to her.
She would bring me bugs she had killed or had found dead somewhere. Thinking back on it now, kid me would have likely found this interesting. We usually reacted with ‘Why is she bringing me this dead bug? Throw it out!’.
Sometimes she would find dead people in the local news paper charama column and come show them to me. “Look this person died! He/she was xyz of xyz. You don’t know them?”. These little things went unappreciated, some stupid feature at work going to production always got priority. “Aaah yeah I don’t know them..”, “Ammachi, someone somewhere died, it doesn’t concern me”. Now looking back.. that feature could have waited, I could have made some time.
I created an Instagram account for her to doom-scroll on. ‘ammachi80years’. A kids account with age restrictions turned on, specifically made for her. It worked, but the touch screen and the plethora of features in android confused her and a week later, she switched back to her indestructible nokia phone. Android came with too many feature for her to shoot herself in the foot with. A missed opportunity, could have been infinite dopamine and her window into modern society. She didn’t have a infinite social media feed educating her.
I told myself and her that I’d get her books to read, to help her kill time. Time to kill, is something she had too much of. I never did this truly, never got her those books from the library. Something always took priority over this.
I knew I was at least in part fix her boredom issue, and it’s awful that I never got around to it. There was always tomorrow. Tomorrow is gone now. Ammachi has permanently left us.