By Samanvita Krishna

A story that comes right from the heart with countless memories that do not depart, a story that puts a smile on my face every morning, a glimpse I would like to share, hope that doesn’t leave you in a maze.

The tales of little me brings back so many treasures beyond the toll of what one could measure, some stupid, some harsh, and some innocent jeopardize, all through childhood, I had a companion who was cute, precious, and delightful, it was my wrinkle eyed, a funny certified grandmother who would rather be called a blessing in disguise just like the heavenly French Fries. A point to be noted it was once quoted “She joins you in your madness, with no protest, a quality that is difficult to harness, maybe that’s what makes her the best!”.

I remember the times of violent nights, where thunder, lightning, and merciless rain hit the house with no respite, it was no less than a dreadful sight, but her fragile hands around me, holding me closer to her bosom and narrating all the valiant already told stories yet again not only helped me to believe in fantasies but also got me through the night’s insanity. Oh! how can I forget the times when I was on a cartoon marathon spree and went on shouting “Wee!! Ammama (grandmother) look at tom run!!! “, she used to laugh at me saying “Why do you get excited seeing a cat my little bumblebee?”. Then were the times when I was her teacher and she was my student, the first word she had learned how to spell was a ‘cat’ because come on, ‘Tom & Jerry’ was only the thing that ran in little me’s mind and I believed I was jerry the mouse, who is a smart little brat.

She was not a great storyteller but she used to narrate her real-life stories which my sibling and I used to label them in different categories, yet there was this weird aura about her, she used to make us laugh with her expressions and anecdotes, she used to say “You know once a monkey took away my sister, we had to bribe the animal with so many bananas, only then the monkey got her back to us! Our ancestors taught us how to bribe!” she always used to conclude with a grin leaving it for us to think if the story was real or fabricated, hence she was the go-to narrator we preferred. My grandma tales also come with a good amount of good food, the yummy South-Indian pickles, which were her territory to tackle. She made pickles from mango, gooseberry, and lime (many more), which the entire family used to relish during dinner time. To this day I say to mom “Ammama makes it better, wish she was here” to which she replies “I know dear!” with a smile.

Like all good things come to an end, she vanished from our lives as the old age got her, but she would fondly be remembered as my dear friend! But what makes her the most memorable was the fact that I got to know after, that redefined my endearment for her false teeth laughter. She was my mother’s stepmother and did not have kids of her own because she wanted to see us all grow, she spread her cheer, her love, and her warmth like the early morning sun’s glow. This not only made her my absolute favorite human being but also made her the most compassionate and strong woman who only cared for her kid’s well-being.

I bet right now she would be writing similar stories about me because why not? We were the Sherlock and Watson that has a never-ending epic run!