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Showing posts from May, 2007

Like Old Wine

I was lucky enough to have both my grandmas around when I was growing up. I met them during our summer hols, when we went south every year. Mysore ajji - dad's mum, was the one I considered more fun. She used to keep lumps of kal-sakre (coloured rock sugar) hidden away for me, tell me stories when she could speak, make much of me and my sister and never interfered with our play. Bangalore used to be boring - a house with no kids except me and my sister, an ajji who was into madi - orthodox to the core - she wouldn't let us touch her or enter the kitchen in the morning till she was done cooking. Her usual advice used to be, "Be a good girl and obey your parents", and our outings used to consist of a walk to the nearest vegetable market or temple.

It was only after I became a mother that I saw ajji in a different light. From an orthodox hindu brahmin who never even drank water at anyone else's house, she transitioned to affectionately accepting my muslim husband, at…