Wrapped in love - Amma and her saree

 On March 29th, my mom was resting in the hospital in an Ice box. After more than 24 hours and 3 flights, I was finally in Raipur. Right after me, my brother-in-law and two cousins were coming too from various cities. The plan was to go to see her directly from the airport. But at the Delhi Airport, I changed my mind that I cannot go to see my mom in this condition. She went to bed every night in a fresh nightgown. There was no way I was hugging her stinking.

So I told my sister to keep a set of clothes ready for me for a quick shower. When I reached home, I had one of her sarees ready on the bed for me. I went to say goodbye to Amma, told her I loved her, and then came home with my dad. We went back to say a final goodbye to her at the medical college. That saree felt like a warm hug from her that day. 

After a few days when we were getting ready to go to Allahabad, I realized my mother didn’t pack many sarees for this trip. There was only one saree in her bag, the one I wore. In a couple of days, the cards (Condolence messages or invitations for Ganga Pooja) were being printed. 

The saree came to Boston with me along with a few others from her Bangalore closet. Yesterday, I had my Boston village coming together to comfort me, support me. They all came home to celebrate my mother. I couldn’t find anything else but the same saree to drape. And one of the friends noticed the saree on the slideshow running in my living room. Till then, I hadn't noticed that she was wearing the same saree in that invitation pic. There was one pic of that invite. 

Yesterday again, my mother was around me, within me. I was wrapped in her love and warmth in the form of her saree.

Amma was Mom to us, but she was many things to many other people.

 My sister’s cook and household help asked my brother-in-law if they could come for Amma’s 13th-day pooja. Those two women had no idea that Raipur is over 1300 kilometers away, over 26 hours by train. They just wanted to be there.

My Amma lived with my No. 2 sister in Bangalore and was visiting my No. 3 sister in Raipur. When I reached Bangalore, I got to see how much they missed Amma. The cook kept on saying, "Amma said she will come soon. I will miss cooking for Amma."

Amma couldn’t do much around the house, but she could help clean the veggies and get small things ready for them. But more than anything, Amma always treated them with respect, wishing them hello and checking their well-being every morning. Amma was very generous too, and instead of giving money in the temple, she supported people around her.

The same was true with the cook and helper in the Raipur home. He made dinner the night before, and the next morning, Amma was in the hospital and never came back. When I landed in Raipur, I met the cook in the hospital who was there to pay his last respects to Amma.

My Amma had an army of helpers in Balaghat, not because she paid them well, but because she treated them with respect, cared for them, and appreciated what they did for her.

The helper for the Balaghat home came to Raipur, his first time out of Balaghat, overnight bus drive just to let us know how wonderful our Amma was to everyone who worked around the house. 

The last day in my last trip, The last Saree picture with Amma

The ladies in Bangalore.

The cook in Raipur during my last trip 

A blue saree from a grandmother from Desi Moms Network. 

The family Photoshoot - A Tale of Tradition and Togetherness

The family photoshoot has been one of my favorite things during my India trip. For over a decade, it has become a family tradition. Amma loved being in the picture with her clan. The excitement begins as soon as I book my ticket: choosing the weave, color, shopping, and getting everything ready. From day one, Amma decided she would not wear the same saree but loved witnessing the whole planning.

During the last trip, we had the saree ready. However, my No-3 sister lost her mother-in-law, so she couldn’t make it to Bangalore. Our trip was all planned with visiting Mr. Husband's side of the family, so we couldn’t visit my sister in Bihar. It was the first time that we were in India and not together as a family.

That family photoshoot never happened. The saree remained packed in Bangalore. Amma was disappointed too that all her four daughters couldn’t be together, and she missed the whole shebang of the photoshoot.

For her Gangapooja (the last ritual), we decided to wear the same saree. With so many guests, we didn’t have much time to do the whole photoshoot, but we managed a pic or two with just us and Papa. Many had our pictures taken with them. I am sure many went home inspired to do the same with their siblings.

Amma surely was somewhere smiling, knowing her clan is together celebrating her.

 Patteda Anchu from Punarjeevana for the Gangapooja on a warm sunny day

56 years of togetherness and a promise of love

 My bua went to see my mom, and the marriage was fixed. My dad received a telegram to come home for his own wedding. 

My Amma was in Ghoonghat (Veil) throughout, and papa saw her only after the ceremonies. Nobody ever told him that he should get Amma something when he sees her for the first time. It's called Meh Dikhai (showing the face). So when they met for the first time, instead of a gift, Papa made a promise: to never raise his hand and always treat her side of the family with respect, love, and affection. To think of these two promises, it is a big deal even now, to treat the wife equally. 

My mother never stopped teasing him for that he walked into the room without any gift. 

My mother was a very loved bhabhi (sister-in-law) and Bahu (daughter-in-law). It was a HUGE family with numerous younger nanad and dewars (sisters-in-law and brothers-in-law) Dad’s own and his cousins and so many in-laws, my dad being the oldest in the clan. Same with my mom’s side, a very huge family.

Over the years, we have seen them treating both sides of the families fairly. My mother could go to see anyone, and my father would go with her. Both sides of relatives got calls on their birthdays, anniversaries, and special occasions regardless of whose side of the family they were. 

One of my dad’s cousins spoke at the cremation ground about how fond they all were of my Amma, how he has always seen Amma and Papa together everywhere. 

Today, they would have celebrated their 56 years together. My heart aches for Papa, who will have to learn to do everything on his own now.

Do you believe in signs? Finding Meaning in Amma’s Departure

 As I conclude my days in India, the past couple of weeks feel like a dream. Each time I recount the events of that week, I become more convinced - Amma really wanted her departure this way. 

She made numerous calls and sent voice messages to all her near and dear for Holi (an Indian festival) a day before she was admitted . She spent two days in the hospital, one of which she spent getting better, talking, and joking. She ensured both my sisters and their children had enough time to come and see her. She even heard that I was on my way to be with her before leaving this world. I was able to get a flight on time at a reasonable cost. My nephew’s exam ended on Tuesday, allowing him to fly the next day. My niece had a six-day break between her two exams. My sister managed to make it on time for her flight.

Our long drive to Allahabad was uneventful, and the weather was perfect throughout those days. . During my early morning walk in Allahabad, I came across a jasmine bush outside a house. I wanted to pick some, and the watchman said I could pick all as the owners were away. At the place where my sister was performing the rituals, the helper provided us with a needle and thread so I could put those flowers in my hair. My mom loved jasmine and enjoyed putting them in her hair.

We had planned to complete everything by 3 PM and leave for Raipur. However, the special nakshatra (Somwati Amawasya) that day delayed everything, and we could only finish the rituals by 5 PM. By the time we reached Triveni, it was sunset, which was Amma’s favorite time of the day.

The Ganga Pooja (last prayers for her) coincided with the first day of the festival week (Navratri) and it was a holiday.

I cannot believe it, but I did dip into the Sangam/Triveni, which is so out of character for me. My mother took her mother to the exact same place 25 years ago when my Amma was almost my age. The feeling that she was there was surreal and overpowering.

A cotton Kalamakari for Amma’s 12th day rituals.

The goodbyes are always hard, and this time it's even harder.

When I landed in Raipur on March 29th, I couldn't help but think about how strange it was to arrive in India without seeing Amma on my sister’s dining table, eagerly awaiting my arrival.

This has been the routine for so many years. The flight would land in the wee hours, and my sisters and brother-in-law would be waiting outside. After collecting my bags and stepping out, our greetings always began with the same statement: "Amma already called twice - Flight nahi aaye kya re , Pragya kahan hai?”(Is flight not on time? Where is she?) During the hour-long drive home, I would talk to her first. Within half an hour, she would call again, asking, "How far are you? Shall I make the tea?" By the time we reached home, she would be all ready, sitting at the table, waiting for me. Hugs, smiles, and a happy Amma awaited.
Today, as I pack my bags, I realize that while arriving without her was difficult, departing without her is even harder. There's nobody to sit and watch our entire shopping and packing drama, nobody to ask, "Ab kab aayegi re?" (When will you come next?) I would always smile and reply, "Amma, I am still here." In the last couple of years, I started saying, "I will come whenever you call."
This time, I didn't have much to pack, but even that felt like a struggle. Her presence lingered in my mind. In the last few years, Papa and Amma hadn't been coming to the airport to drop me off. These midnight trips were becoming increasingly difficult for them. Today, while Papa is in Raipur, I will have to settle for a goodbye through a video call. I will miss those hugs, kisses, tears, and the token gesture of "sang chudoni" (some money as a token of best wishes for travel).
My darling Amma always made sure I felt loved, and she was a significant reason for my trips to India.

Reflections on Rituals: A Journey of Tradition and Modernity - Prayagraj Trip

 My Amma was progressive but believed in rituals and customs. She donated herself to science but also wanted to have last rites and rituals performed for her.

My sister, Varsha, was the "karta," the one who performed all the rituals with her whole heart. We performed Amma’s 10th, 11th, and 12th day rituals in Prayagraj.

All three of my sisters believe in Hindu Dharma’s rituals, but Amma made sure I experienced them too. She knew I wouldn’t have done any of these if not for this way.

The three of us (my sister and brother-in-law) drove over 600 km, a 14-hour journey one way. I witnessed a whole different world in those three days. I observed everything and talked to many. The concept of "on the way to Moksha for the departed soul" doesn't make much sense to me, but being there made me wonder what it is in these rituals that people feel obligated to follow.

So many people come to these places just to bid final goodbyes to their loved ones and move on with their lives, while believing that their loved ones are on their way to another galaxy or whatever afterlife concept they believe in.

What is your take? Did you do the same for your loved one? Would you like the same for yourself?

A simple linen from my sister's closet - perfect for this weather.

Love for good food was certainly one of Amma’s genes that I inherited. While my sister followed strict protocol, I explored the city’s food scene. This particular food joint was suggested by a friend. I think I found my Moksha in that place; I ate there all three days. The owner and staff treated me royally, making sure I got seated without waiting in that jam-packed place.