The Love of a Grandmother

October 27, 2023

My grandmother passed away peacefully this week in my family’s ancestral village in India. She was 97, and I’m so grateful that my father and aunt were by her side in her last days. 97 is a very long life, and one can happily celebrate that. After she passed, my mom said to me, “Remember how blessed you are to know a grandmother’s love.” And as I’ve learned, there’s perhaps nothing quite as strong, genuine, and everlasting as that. 

Her name was Induben, but almost everybody called her “Motiben,” which translates to “big sister.” This is ironic because she was *tiny* (like, four-foot-five-tiny the last time I saw her). My brother and I always opted to call her by the American “grandma,” though we should’ve called her by the Indian version, “Ba.” My fusion kids gave her the fused nickname, “Great Ba,” which I loved and can imagine she loved as well. 

I’ll always remember her hands: large, powerful, earthy. Hands that make me smile considering how small she was. These were the hands of someone devoted to the work of family- hands that looked the part of dignity, pride, love, and strength. Hands that could open a pesky jar, fearlessly touch a hot cooking surface, shell peas better than any classically-trained chef, sew a button for her grandson, hands that could make killer samosas. She, like many grandmothers of that generation, was a quiet hero- one who taught through her selflessness and devotion, one whom I never heard a single complaint from. I remember when my grandfather, near the end of his life, attributed everything he ever achieved to her. Through her simplicity and devotion, she simply made him, her kids, and so many other people better versions of themselves.

In the Hindu tradition, one expression of faith is known as bhakti- an intense love and devotion to God. She was single handedly the most devout person I’ve ever known, and her unshakable faith and the people in her simple life kept her grounded, at peace, and happy. I can imagine that in her last days there was not only joy at being reunited with her kids, but also a feeling of joy at her imminent unity with the beyond. 

In India, certain dates in the calendar have auspicious significance, usually tied to religious festivals. This week was especially auspicious as it marked the end of Navratri, the nine-day celebration dedicated to the goddess Durga. My grandmother passed away after the last day of this festival, on the observation of Dussehra, when Rama defeated the demon Ravana; in the coming days this will lead to the celebration of Diwali. All these festivals symbolize the basic triumph of light over darkness. Goodness over evil. Wisdom over ignorance. Peace over war. 

The past few weeks have felt heavy. I have been thinking to myself a lot lately about the mess the world finds itself in yet again- war, hatred, tragedy, senseless murders, insults, ignorance. In short, a lack of humanity. Perhaps it’s just the place I’m in this week, but maybe the world would be in a little bit of a better place if we thought of our grandmothers a bit more, and to know that they expect more of us- to be better, to be kinder, to care more, to chase the light inside all of us.

Though she lived continents away, we would call her often; she especially loved seeing the kids on FaceTime, who both learned to say the common greeting “Jai Shri Krishna” to her, which lit up her eyes and filled her heart. She spoke very little English, but she lovingly tried and learned the basics in order to speak with us when she realized pretty quickly that my brother and I were hopeless at Gujarati (again: a grandmother’s love). Conversations with her were always efficient, but the joy in her voice was enough to lift you up. “I am so happy!” she would rejoice upon hearing our voices, even near the end of her life. And then she would ask in return, “Are you happy?”

Today, Ba, I’m sad, but I’m happy to have had you and to know the love of a grandmother. And I hope and pray that because of you maybe I will be better, kinder, and chase after the light in all of us.