For one moment everyday, I am six years old once again. For that brief moment, or rather a fraction of a moment, when we have just woke up and before the world takes over, we are just our souls. I am sure if somebody asked us what our childhood was like, we all go to our earliest memories. Mine is when I was six years old, living with my grandparents.

Since both my parents worked, and sometimes had to be away, I stayed with my grandparents at mamaghar. My grandmother like many women of her generation, had lived a hard life: married off at 15, she had given birth to six children, received no education and toiled silently all her life. She was not always practical but always very compassionate. I could write about my mother and fill ten pages, but my grandmother was in many ways my first mother.

Money was tight when I was living with my grandmother. My parents were not as better off then as they were perhaps half a decade later. I remember the time my grandmother or aama as I called her, sent me to buy something for my ‘tiffin’ for school. I had seen my classmates bring ‘wai-wai’ for tiffin. One of my friends, Smita had let me taste a little bit. I liked it, but hadn’t dared buy it when my grandmother sometimes sent me with money to the nearby shop to buy tiffin. I don’t remember how much it cost, but it was not a round number, it was something like 4 rupees and tin suka or 5 rupees and tin suka. This was about 18 years ago. So, I went to the shop and asked the sauji for wai-wai. I was half sure he would say the money I had with me was not enough. But it was and he gave me one suka back. I was elated that I was going to have wai wai for tiffin that day and went back home saying ‘aama, aama yi paisa firta!’ She was so mad at me, when she saw what I had bought and how much money I had left. Obviously, she had expected more money back. Even as I write this, I feel a tinge of pain for the things that I didn’t have on my early childhood and my pre-teen years.

I also remember that house where I lived with my grandparents. I remember waking up every morning and watching the sun rays stream in through the opened window and hearing my grandfather chant prayers in the other room. I remember my grandmother washing my face and wiping it with the corner of her dhoti. I still remember the smell of her dhoti. I remember her making me take the very bitter ‘ausadhi’ prescribed by ananda kumar baidhya for my stomach upset. To this day, I don’t know if baidhya was his surname or his profession. I remember my grandmother waking up at midnight because I had a bad cough to make me ‘mishri ko kaada’ to make my cough better.

My life is not the same anymore. I am not the same person anymore. Even the sun that streams through my apartment window every morning is different. But when I think about my childhood the dominant feeling always is that I was loved. My life is more privileged than my grandmother’s because aama and the other women who came before me lived the life they lived.

Touching.......

nice n very touching

sirisha,

good one...took me back to the good old days of mine....i used to spend the whole 2 months of winter vacation at my mamaghar....and when i had to come back to home, i used to cry....sachhii!! i missed my mamaghar so much...

i haven't had wai wai for quite some time...next time when i will have it, i will be thinking of you and your lovely story for sure :)


LooTe

Sirisha,
Your story very well reminded me of my Mamaghar too. It was more about the feeling towards "Aama" than the economical stuff. When you said "I remember waking up every morning and watching the sun rays stream in through the opened window and hearing my grandfather chant prayers in the other room. I remember my grandmother washing my face and wiping it with the corner of her dhoti. I still remember the smell of her dhoti." Very touchy..... Looks like we have the similar childhood memories.

My Hajurbua "Ba" passed away last year and I still remember his words on the phone about a month before he left us - "Babu, kahile auchas aba... tero bihe ta dekhna paudina jasto cha". He was sick and disease could not be diagnosed with the top doctors like Upendra Devkota. Our wedding was already planned and since we are "Chori ko Chora", his death would not bar us from getting married. However, my grandmother "Aama" could not attend the ceremony which is always a glitch on my heart.

i now miss my MAMAGHAR ........and especially KHEER she used to cook for me everytime i went to mamaghar......thanks for the story sirisha.....

:)

Sirisha,
your story opened up my forgotten wounds of my childhood. Very touching.

Sirisha,

Nice and heart touching memory...
.......... i too came from the same background... even i used to bring tiffin from home... and on friday she used to give us Rs 1.00 so we always wait for Friday just to get the money rather than tiffin.

Sirisha, it was sweet n touching. I dunno wots wai wai,never tasted.
I still remember my grandmother used to pack paratha n aloo ka achaar for my tiffin :)

vivid, its really very emotional!
wai wai sure taste really good :)
geez, i cant remember when i was 6! :(

but I remember taking bon bon biscuit or rara chau chau my favto school!
ive never really spent my time with my granma at all.. :(
i luv my thulo mom a lot like you luv ur granma

thank you all for your comments. i was surprised however that so many of us have the same kind of relationship with our grandmothers.