My grandmother's smile

I rushed into the room while my luggage was still in the car. “Your grandmother is waiting for you”, my aunt said.  It was last December, and I had just arrived from the airport after having traveled more than 8000 miles from New York City to this coastal city of Calicut in northern Kerala in India to see her. She was sick and bedridden for some time. Seeing me entering the room, she gave a big wide smile and kept looking at me. I hadn’t seen her for more than four years.  There was a glow around her and that wide smile was almost angelic; it is now etched into my mind forever. “We haven’t seen this smile for months”, my aunt added.  Apparently she had not smiled for days and weeks.

A few days after my arrival, on a pleasant tropical Christmas day, we were in the car taking her back to the ancestral home.  An Indian Santa Claus in a ridiculous costume was crossing the street in the furious traffic and he was drunk. I started laughing when I saw him and my grandmother also basked in the humor along with me, even though she was very weak.  Others in the car also joined us mostly because of the joy in seeing my grandmother laugh.

Last week, on Wednesday around noon, I was in downtown New York City near Battery Park working on my laptop when I had a sudden feeling of uneasiness.  Something felt not right and I immediately called my mom who lives in Michigan.  “What made you to call me from work, do you have ESP or something?”, she asked. She said she had been feeling uneasy that whole day since grandmother was not well and was trying to decide when to go to India to see her again. “Should I go in September?”, she asked me. I felt a rush of energy and emotion and I blurted out, “No, you better go now”.  “You mean I should book tickets for this week?”. “Yes, immediately and as soon as you can. Go on Friday if you can.”, I said. 

This Wednesday closer to midnight I was in bed getting ready to sleep and randomly browsing the internet on my iPad when my dad called me.  My grandmother had passed away peacefully while my mom was by her bed side.  I don’t know what force or energy had forced me to convince my mom to go to India, but she was able to spend almost three days with her mother and take care of her in the hospital with her siblings. 

My grandmother Safiya was born to a Muslim business family in the late 1930’s and married off to my grandfather around the age of 15 (my grandfather was about 19).  She gave birth to 10 children and by the time she was 30 years old, she already had a large family and enormous responsibilities.  I remember visiting her on vacation when I was a child and she would be the first one to wake up to make sure that breakfast was warm and ready and hot chai was on its way.  Food was the focal point for social interactions in her household with chicken biryani prepared on special occasions. The aroma of the spices would fill the air and my mouth would water and as a child who didn’t grow up there, I would try to make use of my minimal vacation time by eating and playing at the house as much as I could. I enjoyed the role of being the first girl grandchild of the family for a long time.    

    

 My dad’s mother also has a similar story.  I was a teenager when I last saw her and I still remember my last words to her that hot April afternoon, “see you again”.  She was a strong and determined woman who also gave whatever she could to the world, whether it was passing out “foreign” candy we brought with us to the neighborhood children or giving a little more extra to someone in need.  Both of my grandmothers were only teenagers when they were pushed into responsibilities.  Their lives were charted out for them instead of being able to plan their own futures.

They didn’t have time to think about what their passions in life were.  They didn’t think about what to wear to the next event or what new restaurant to try.  They didn’t think about makeup or shows or books or travel or shoes, for that matter.  I can’t even compare my life living in New York City to that of my grandmothers since they both put me to shame in how much they had compromised, accomplished, and sacrificed for their families.