Amma and my village - celebration continues

 Yesterday, another set of friends came together to celebrate Amma. I did much better this time. It was a smaller group than last Sunday (around 30 people), and I knew what to do. I knew they were all here because they care for me. Simple tea, coffee, and some snacks, but a lot of talk summed up my afternoon.

I felt I was much better talking about Amma and her memories. I did have my moments when all of a sudden I felt the extreme loss, but somebody noticed and gave me a hug, and I got back in the moment pretty quickly. I know I've been talking about the power of the village forever, but I am experiencing it at a whole different level now. How comforting it was to see her on my screen (I have a slideshow of around 150 pics) and talk about her with people who care for me. Everyone asked me to do the same thing just like Amma would have done so - talk/call and take care of myself.

A couple of them have met Amma when she was here 18 years ago, but most of them got to see her in those pictures yesterday—a happy, vibrant Amma.

I know time heals, and even we will miss her always, but will learn to live with her physical absence. The last two Sunday meets assured me that she is around me in the form of my village, to support me when needed, to comfort me when I am down, to cheer me up with anything I do, to encourage me to move forward, and, above all, reminding me how fortunate I am to be her daughter.

Journey of Loss: Conversations About Death and Closure

It’s hard to believe that Four weeks has passed since we said good bye to Amma. I am not sure what is “closure” but a sense of loss is all around me. I miss her physical presence and ablity to call her any time I want.

I have been writing Amma stories but I guess I need to verbalize the depth of loss I feel. 

Amma and I had been talking about death, wish, what to do when she is gone over a decade. I remember starting this conversation during my India trip in 2012 after my accident. I was there with kids and on my third day during my early morning walk I was struck by an SUV. It was a close call and it shook both of us over. 

My parents have been very progressive  in their approach as talking about death and “after we are gone” is still a taboo in our society.

They expressed and updated their wishes over the years and we sisters have pretty good idea about their desires. Things changed and evolved  but not without open conversation.

In the past month, I've come to appreciate the importance of these conversations more than ever. They serve as a reminder that nothing is forever, it’s crucial to focus on what is important to us today, tomorrow and after we are gone.

I finally dragged myself out for an award ceremony for the employees of an organization I serve on the board of. It was heartwarming to meet people being recognized for their selfless work. Amma would have loved hearing all about my evening.

Amma @White Mountain - 2006 Visit 

Amma with her clan in Goa - celebration of their 50th wedding anniversary.

A blue linen saree for the evening

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 - all of us. 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. I decided to go home before I head out to the hospital.

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. 

People got plants and flowers, despite me asking not to , She sure was happy somewhere. She loved flowers

GoodBye Amma - we love you - forever ours.

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.