Sruthi Art Studios

There are those moments when one remembers that special someone who, as we were growing up, exerted a strong influence on us – our personality, emotional makeup and core values – that helped shape us as the individuals we are today.

One such special person for me was my maternal grandmother.

She was a force of nature (though petite) – immensely courageous and strong in faith; extremely kind and generous to a fault; and always, always cheerful in the face of adversity and misfortune.

She lost both her parents whilst in her early twenties and later at quite a young age became a widow with four children.

This though did not deter her from living independently and using her family inheritance to travel, write, and make new friends across the length and breadth of India. I would eagerly await her unannounced visits home; usually a whirlwind surprise visit consisting of sweets, comics, and just more sweets; loads of laughter, many adventurous stories and before you knew it, she would be off to the bus stand or railway station on an autorickshaw.

On one of her travels on a train journey; she was in a compartment reserved only for women passengers, when a man with a knife entered intent on stealing cash and jewellery. This set off much screaming in the compartment and there was palpable tension in the air; but my grandma remained very present and kept her wits about her, and instructed a young woman on the upper berth to pull the chain that sends out a distress signal and helps stop the train (she herself being too short to reach it). However, the woman on the upper berth was so scared that she seemed almost inert and paralysed by fear; my grandmother had to talk calmly and patiently (in a really dangerous situation) to the young woman, and managed somehow to coax her to pull the lever, which finally and thankfully she did – which I’m sure happened only because in that island of screams, one small lady had the nerve to stay cool and do the right thing.

There were other such interesting tales – once on a flight, a deranged young man tried to hijack the aircraft with a fake gun (this was way back in the 1980s) and my extrovert grandma – a friend to all, in her signature white sari which was the only colour she preferred after her husband died – managed to get the attention of the flight stewards and they with the help of the passengers, got hold of the aspiring hijacker and firmly deposited him in the hands of the police who were waiting on the tarmac. 

On another occasion, she saw a youth standing on the edge of the train compartment entrance (which is often open in non-airconditioned ones) without holding the sides and clearly seeming to have the intent to jump. My gregarious grandmother reached out and held his shoulder and called him “son”. Something about her friendly and gentle voice must have persuaded him to look back – and it would change his life.

He was a depressed young man – jobless and without a family – ready to end it all. She saved him from that pitfall that day, and talked to him for hours and gave him reasons to not quit and to carry on, and when they reached their destination, she made sure he would get a job, with the help of her many friends.

Years later, she had a welcome surprise one morning, when the bell rang and she opened the front door of her house by the sea, and there standing was this youth she had ‘saved’ with his wife and children. He never forgot her kind act.

These are just a few anecdotes from her long life of 94 summers – along the way her compassion helped many who are today spread across the world; her generosity supported numerous families, and her courage and strength born of unwavering faith, including at the loss of a son to a terminal illness, continue to inspire everyone who was fortunate to meet and have a chat with her (always with a cup of hot tea and cake).

I have myself been so inspired by her character – her boundless energy and joy even when she went blind in one eye and could hardly see with the other, and at the same time suffered from arthritis, so much so that during the last twenty years of her life she was home bound yet not in spirit. She was always a free bird – and her home was always open to both the distressed seeking an empathetic ear and the many writers, reiki healers, philosophers and old friends and well-wishers who would drop-in for a chat.

Thank you, my loving grandma, for all your prayers and blessings…I am sure wherever you are, you are having a lovely chat about – well just about everything – over of course a cuppa and snacks. 

The painting of the peacock shared above is in a more contemporary Kalamkari style of work, completed in oils.