అమ్మమ్మ నువ్వంటె నాక్ మస్త్ ప్రేమ

I miss Ammamma, I miss her terribly. There's ofcourse sadness that she's passed away and that I wasn't there. That she had to suffer so much towards the end. But that feeling isn't too big. What I miss way more is being with her. I miss knowing that if I walk to the front room of the Dilsukh Nagar house, she'd be lying down on the bed watching a Tamil serial. And that I can climb in next to her, nudging her a little to make space for myself, and hug her and go to sleep. Which I did until even the last time I was in India. I miss the smell of coconut oil in her hair, I miss her shuffling walk around the house, I miss her coming to the computer room to bring me tea and leaving it on my desk, without taking a glance at the computer. 

She simply didn't ask what you were doing, that nosy inquisitiveness wasn't in her character. Ofcourse she was curious and she'd ask me about girls I was speaking with on the phone, and people she didn't talk to but wanted to know about. But she was very wary of transgressing, of crossing the line in case a person snapped at her and bluntly told her to mind her business. I think she learnt that lesson the hard way, the bitter way.

I miss her shouts of 'Shyamalaa' and 'Chinnaa' and 'Maheshwari'. I can clearly see the పచ్చబొట్టు of the three dots next to her left thumb, can see the single red glass bangle she wore for most of her later years after Thatha passed away. I miss the way her body would convulse with laughter when someone fell down and the way she'd try to stop it by pressing her palm hard against her mouth; I haven't seen another person who was so amused by a person falling. I can clearly see her gulping down the contents of a coke bottle, throwing it away and burping loudly and saying, "హమ్మ, తృప్తైంది". I can see the vitiligo marks on her forehead and on her knees. 

I remember that evening so clearly: I was in Panineeya in class 5 and I think I had a special class till late or something. So she got me food in her famous green butta and I remember her feeding me పెరుగన్నం with తోటకూర ఫ్రై while I fooled around by hanging to a window sill yapping about something. I haven't seen it but I can imagine the way she must've run down to the house below in Delhi the morning Amma got her fits and bang on the door loudly to fetch help. I miss tucking the loose ends of her saree while she was sweeping the ప్రాంగణం in the morning. I miss taking her to Garden Vareli and how she'd finish her shopping in 5 mins by choosing 3-4 sarees. That's it, no hesitations, no second thoughts, no "I wish I'd picked that one instead" after coming home. And how she, Amma and I would then go to Bata and she wouldn't like anything because they didn't stock Gliders anymore. Then we'd go to Minerva or Chutneys or Dwaraka and she'd order Masala Dosa and Vada and Idly and after polishing everything off and gulping down the last of the sambar say contentedly, "శుభ్భరంగ తినేసా.. హాపీ". 

I just remembered those chocolate donut type things she made a habit of getting me from the cafe opposite Secunderabad Vinayaka Temple to which she went on Mondays for years. It was a routine she cherished: Send Thatha off to school, get ready, walk to Chaitanyapuri bus stop, get into 90D or 86N or occassionally 107D, get down at Secunderabad station, pray in the temple, do ప్రదక్షణ, sit there and eat ప్రసాదం, and then walk around the temple and buy maybe రాగిపళ్ళు or చెరుకు or గేగులు. Then go to the cafe to get my donut and then to Swathi for her full meals. I think she looked forward to those Sundays because she was totally free for that one పూట. I don't think I've known a person who wanted to be as free, as independent as her. 

I can clearly hear తార అమ్మమ్మ's booming voice, calling out from the gate, "వదినె!". My incredible grandmother gave me ten rupees every Monday after coming home from school for years so that I could wash my face, change my clothes and rush to Pani Puri uncle to eat cutlet for 3 rupees and 21 gapchups for 7 rupees. Sometimes when I'd get gapchup parcel for Amma and Amma'd ask her to eat a few and she'd eat 3-4 and say, "చాలు చాలు".

It's eerie how most of my memories are from when I was young. Is it because the older I grew, the less important she became to me? Possibly. As an idea, as my అమ్మమ్మ, she was extremely important. I adored her though not as much as Id've liked in the last few years. As a person, as a full fledged entity she didn't have as much space in my everyday life and thoughts as she did earlier. To a large extent that's because the circle of my own life increased and new experiences and new people became more important. Certainly there was also the aspect of her becoming more aloof, more alone after తాత's passing. I found it harder and harder to engage her in long conversations because she'd want to go back to her TV maybe because she thought I was going to come and go whereas TV was her true companion. 

Our (తాత-అమ్మమ్మ-నేను) Bombay-Pune-Zaheerabad-Hyderabad bumpy bus journey is deeply etched into my memory. I remember the innumerable times she'd try to protect me from తాత or మోనీమామ's scoldings. I remember taking money from her డబ్బుల కాన్. Amma just reminded me of the time she took me to watch Titanic, that's how cool she was. She is. I'm grateful to Purnima garu for recording her voice (her opinion of Tejo-Tungabhadra) and putting it up on Pustakam. 

I was just telling Amma that yeah ofcourse I'm sad that she had to suffer and had to endure such pain especially in the last few months but what I remember now is not the pain nor the suffering nor the fights we had about her TV addiction nor my insistence that we move from the Dilsukh Nagar house to an apartment. They're just present hazily in my head. It's all those beautiful memories I have of her that are gushing out. Like the time in 2019 when I took her for her eye checkup after the cataract operation and we stopped for lunch in Chutney's Kothapet. I think we had to wait for a long time for our order and she became irritable and wanted to leave, but when the food finally arrived I think she enjoyed it. I'll always miss her పూరి ఆలుగడ్డ సాగు and her బగార and రొట్టె కారం బెండకాయి కూర and so much more, but I'll also remember that with immense fondness and love. When I was in school, I'd begrudge classmates who'd go to their నానమ్మ/ అమ్మమ్మ ఊరు for summer holidays. Little did I know that for me everyday was a summer holiday because of అమ్మమ్మ తాత and the దిల్ ష్నార్ ఇల్లు. 

అమ్మ ఇప్పుడె యాద్ చేషినట్టు అమ్మమ్మ నన్ను వాళ్ళ నాయన అనేది. అన్నంక బెదిరిస్తుండె, "చచ్చి నీ కడుపున పుట్టి నిన్ను సాధిస్త బిడ్డ" అని. ఆ ధంకీ మాత్రం మస్త్ ఖుషీగ ఇస్తుండె. నా వరకు నువ్ నాక్ బెష్ట్ అమ్మమ్మ. మస్త్ మిస్ జేస్తున్న నిన్ను. సారీ దూరం పోయినందుకు. ఇందాకట్సంది నువ్వు నా జుట్టు పీక్కుంట తలకాయకి నూనె పెడ్తున్నట్టు తోస్తాంది, "మొత్తం ఎండిపాయె తల్కాయ్" అనుకుంట. నీ మామిడికాయ్ గీకుడు పచ్చడి యాద్కొస్తాంది, తెల్ల మురుకు పచ్చి మజ్జిగ, మనం కోఠీకి పోయి తెచ్చుకున్న చాయ్ కప్పు, సాయి బాబ గుడి దగ్గర టైలర్ షాప్ ల నువ్ నాకు కుట్పించిన అంగి, మధ్యానాలు కాల్చిన పల్లీల్ తినుకుంట హనుమాన్ నగర్ ఇంటి గురించి మనం పెట్టిన ముచ్చట, నువ్వు ఒద్దొద్దంటున్న నేను నీ కాళ్ళకి టైగర్ బాం రాసి వత్తినప్పుడు నువ్ పడ్డ సుకూన్.. ఇలా ఎన్నో ఎన్నెన్నో జ్ఞాపకాలు. బెజార్గుంది కానీ గివన్నీ తల్చుకుంటాంటే మంచిగ కూడ ఉంది.

I love you ammamma and I'm glad you knew it.