It has been a long time since I blogged. I did not have the drive because of my work load. Today, despite that, I had to blog to say farewell to my grandmother. She passed away December 9th in hospital unable to sustain the drive to live after the operation for her fracture. Amma said till the last moment she was saying my name (even when semi-conscious). Not sure what I can do except to talk to my dad, all my aunts and cousins.

She lost her hearing when she was just 15 years old. Odly, I consider that as a blessing since neither she heared good things nor the bad. She had very few expectations in life. Her son, daughters and grandchildren were her world. Since she could not hear what others spoke she started living in her own world not bothering about the tribulations happening outside. At 82, she watered all the plants, plucked flowers for my mom, and complained that government was not doing much good for people. Her greatest interest and love in life was me. Whatever I do she adored. Last time when I visited India, before I left, she came to me and said "I dont know if I will see you again". I never took it so seriously. Afterall, aachi has always been there for me, why should it be any different now. Only now I realize how wrong I have been.

She had interesting a solution for all the problems in the world, "Nalladhaye ninnai, nalladhey nadakum" - Think only good, good only will happen. How right elders are! If only the world could share such optimism. I still so clearly remember all her stories - real and otherwise. Her marriage at a tender age, her travel to burma with her parents, her life in the village, her wealth- right from cows to cars and cameras even in those days, and how she lost them all. How she fared in coming to chennai in "ondu kuduthanam", her tragedy of losing husband, son-in-law and daughter within a year (well it was some 30 years back). And the innocent beauty in all this, that she was not scared but came out of all these. I miss her that I was not near her. Only at these times distances seem too great and too real. I know I have not felt the full jolt of this since the same distances could blur pain too. The only solace is she did not suffer and passed away quickly, exactly the way she wanted.

Somehow sitting here in US, I m not able to cry. I only realize that I have not really grown up for my aachi. I can only imagine me going to school in the third grade and shouting - "tata aachi" , unable to hear, she only waves back.