School and a bath

Again a story told and retold.

My grandmother Aaji had given Deepali who was born a nice bath, and an oil massage. Vaishutai was ready for school, and was waiting for her school ride.

Vaishutai wanted to hold Deepali, and Aaji let her. And Aaji also playfully told baby Deepali to poop. Baby Deepali apparently did so (no diaper in those days), and Vaishutai had to change and bathe and was late for school.

This was ofcourse lovingly told, and laughed about.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Progeny of Love

Image
  A magnificent killer whale named Tahlequah gave birth and caught the world’s attention. Her calf died only thirty minutes after being born, each of those blessed minutes a sacrament to the progeny of love. But the real reason journalists and photographers and millions of viewers followed this mother’s story, was her willingness to grieve unbidden, to become a thing utterly governed by kinship. After a year and a half of growing this enormous life inside of her belly, and the immense feat of labor, and a half an hour of looking into one another’s eyes, Tahlequah proceeded to carry her dead baby on the tip of her nose for seventeen days, traveling more than a thousand miles all throughout the Salish Sea. And some people think that grief is not inexplicably beautiful. But perhaps it’s because those people (who are us people) no longer see grieving enacted publicly as a plea for sanity, as a way of feeding that which grants us life. There was no real grieving at my mother’s funeral–...
Read more

Missing her

My eldest sister, Vaishutai (Vaishali) passed away on Saturday. She was the keeper of my memories, she was the only one who remembered all our childhood trips, everyone's favorite foods, likes dislikes, and the pranks we played or the bets we made on Binaca songs. She was fun, loving, beautiful, compassionate. She was my confidante, my guide. She and I would discuss recipes, movies, books, my parents, my friends, her friends, my kids, her kids, my dance, my attempts at different hobbies, her dance, her interest in music, cooking, gardening.. and so many more things. My life is not going to be the same. I am not returning calls, and am continuing with my life, bcoz really am I ever going to feel different? Am I ever going to stop missing her?
Read more

Hushed Voices!

I cannot go in chronological order. That's not how my memory works. I was at Vaishutai's house in September, 2019. Spent 4 days at her house, just chatting. One of the conversations that I remember is Vaishutai telling me how after her first cancer diagnosis, she would go to parties and some of her acquaintances would come to her, and talk to her in a very serious voice or rather a hushed tone, and check on how she was doing. They would also continue being serious and say how sorry they were to hear about her diagnosis. Vaishutai would say, "Please don't be sorry, I am quite fine". She hated being pitied. As I am battling with my grief, I find myself being just like her. Really, I don't want anyone to be sorry for me. We have had so many heart-to-heart conversations, uncannily we know how each of us will react or say. The five of us, and us 3 sisters, have an unbreakable bond. How can death take that bond away? I don't think it is possible. I can ...
Read more