Vaishutai

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.

 I had a very hard time penning down all my memories back in 2020. And so I decided to stop writing. As Vaishutai's 2nd death anniversary approaches, I find myself teary-eyed again. Will this grief ever lessen? The last couple of years of her life after her kids went off to college, Vaishutai had more time to chat with me. She would patiently hear out all my woes about friends, cooking mishaps, kids, work stress. She always was a good listener. And she always in her calm voice would say, "Its ok, Manali, really everything will be fine". After the phone call, I would realize that my problems were so trivial compared to hers. I would get into a dark depression. I would feel helpless, and feel terribly sad for her. I really didn't want her to die.  Once I remember, she told me how she was cleaning out her closet, her work clothes, because she was not going to need those clothes anymore. It was as if she was closing chapters of her life. It was as if she knew she wasn'