My mind and memories race back almost 45 years to ‘Gokul’, our home in Secunderabad, Andhra Pradesh, India. You always needled me every time my maternal grandfather from Madras (now Chennai) came to stay with us by saying “Your favourite Madras Thatha is here”.  I could not tell you then, but I can tell you now why he was my favourite. I hope you can read this letter from wherever you are and understand why he, and not you, was my favourite.

On every visit, Madras Thatha would thoughtfully buy me interesting story books such as the Jataka tales, Panchatantra stories or the exploits of Lord Krishna. As I got older he introduced me to Bhavan’s Journal, a small booklet with information on Hindu culture and religion. More importantly, he initiated me to the joy of reading which opened my heart and mind to a wide new world

My Madras Thatha would ask me about school, how I was doing and always had words of praise and encouragement. Though you and I lived together, you had no time for me. You were constantly talking to Appa about clients who had paid their fees and those who hadn’t. I know you were helping Appa in his office, but it gave me the impression that you were only interested in money. I was also encouraged to study hard by my Madras Thatha.  He believed that I could do well academically. His confidence in me baffled me sometimes, whereas you constantly told me that a woman’s place was in the kitchen. What hurt me most was when you would tell me not to study very hard, but would visit your granddaughter Padma, my cousin, and instigate her to study hard to compete with me. Padma told me this as we were in the same class. Do you know how upset I used to be? Why did you have to show this favouritism, Thatha? Don’t you want all your grandchildren to do well?

Story telling was my Madras Thatha’s forte. I still remember the summer months when we used to sleep on the open terrace under a starry sky. In his steady, soft but inflective voice, he would narrate stories from the Puranas, the Ramayana and Mahabharatha. To my utter frustration, he would stop at the most interesting juncture.  Narrating the story of Ramayana, he would pause after “Then Kaikeyi asked for three boons”.  I would ask “What were the three boons, thatha?”.  “For that you have to wait till tomorrow” he would add much to my disappointment.

There is one incident I remember with clarity. It was a weekday. I was seated on the verandah reading the morning papers.  When you saw me, you said “What are you doing here, sitting cross-legged like a man and reading the papers, when you should be helping your mum and grandma in the kitchen”?  Innocently I replied “Why do you always say women have to be in the kitchen? Look Indira Gandhi is a woman and she is the minister of Information and Broadcasting. Mrs Vijayalakshmi Pandit is in the UN and not in the kitchen”.  Just then Appa entered after a long and hard game of tennis, exhausted and perspiring. You immediately accosted him and accused him of not bringing up his children properly. You told him that I had no respect for elders and that I was rude. Appa then undid his belt and gave me a thrashing repeatedly saying “Never talk back to your elders, do you understand”?  I said I wasn’t, but of course he did not believe me. To the child in me, that was the worst day of my life: to be beaten by my father, who had never lifted a finger against me.  I was devastated, furious and humiliated. I sobbed and wailed because I felt you had let me down and demeaned me in my father’s eyes. I realize now that children then were not expected to speak their minds. This thought hurts me even more now.

You had your kind moments too. You openly appreciated the colourful garland of garden flowers I wove for the altar in the prayer room and the flaky chapathis I made for you.

Older and more mature, I now realize that both of you were different personalities, shaped by your environment and upbringing. I do think of you often, but I think of my Madras Thatha more fondly and lovingly. You now know why!
Your loving Grandaughter (who now works both in the kitchen and outside)
Chitra

What I can remember about my Grandpa was what he had always said about senior citizens and hospitals. He said that old people would expire when they were hospitalised.

Initially I thought it was just bullshit as there is no scientific evidence and no studies being done to support such generalisation. After all, my Grandpa did not even attend Primary School. Thus who is he to make such prediction?

However, after spending fifty-two years on earth, finally I comprehend what most people do not realise about any hospital.

What my Grandpa had said about hospital being a death place is true!

What is so difficult to grasp this common sense deduction?

First, the hospital is a very dirty place! Hello, you cannot see the millions of germs and bacteria plus virus that are floating in the hospitals! SARS had proven that such germs etc can survive for more than a day. As humans evolved, so do germs.

Second, the nurses’ and doctors’ uniform transmit one patient’s germs to another.

Third, when a person is sick, one is weakened, therefore with the millions of germs surrounding them, they will become worse.

Fourth, a senior citizen is a much weaker person plus one’s sickness will make them a very easy target for death.

Fifth, new house man (i.e. inexperienced doctor) will make fatal mistakes contributing to earlier expiration of the senior citizen.

Sixth, greenhorn nurses will also commit blunders that will speed up the complication of multi-problems.

Seventh, the recycled air due to air-conditioner will carry more germs and bacteria plus virus than anyone could imagine.

Eighth, lack of monitoring (due to staff shortage) and slow detection of the patient’s condition will aggravate and hasten senior citizens’ death.

Finally, when good intentioned family members, relatives, friends, etc, visit the aged patient, wouldn’t their germs be spread to the victim especially if they are about to fall sick themselves?

Thus, do you need to be a rocket scientist to figure out that for senior citizens going to the hospital will mean waiting for death?

Some grandma had even said that going to hospitals will be unlucky. Why?

They may have observed that some people after visiting hospitals will become sick. Again it is commonsense that when one is not feeling well, a visit to the hospital will make one even worse as one’s resistance and immunity system is much lower.

The elders observed and passed on their observations, it is up to us to analyse their findings. I wish I had listen more to my Grandpa before he expired. Now I regret losing much of his wisdom that he had gained through observation and experience.

I hope some establishment can organise the collection of grandparents’ tales and try to prove whether they are constructive or not. Otherwise our forefathers’ wisdom and experience will be lost for ever. Is not that a great loss to society?

My Grandma might be very naggy but I know that she nags at me because she cares for me. Every time I go to her house, she would have prepared a lot of food and drinks.

My Grandpa always buys me the things I want badly, like a toy pistol or a slurpee, and he is totally humorous.

My grandparents are superb!

There were no consequences to bear until my Grandma, in her own ways, taught me the most important lesson in my life.

I still remembered exactly what happened 22 years ago.

I was in Primary Two then. I would come home from school and dump everything on the floor. Then, I would rush to the bedroom to take a nap first.

One day, I woke up to find the dreaded bamboo sticks for my kite making gone! My Grandma had thought it was rubbish and had disposed of it. I was filled with fear as I was afraid that my art teacher would scold me.

At the same time, I was so angry. So I ran back to my room and bashed the pillows in anger, wondering if I should forgive my Grandma if she apologized.

After pounding out my anger at the pillows for some time, I wondered why my Grandma hadn’t come in to apologize.

So I went around the house searching for my Grandma, and there she was, out in the corridor, chopping up her favorite brand-new broomstick to get back the bamboo sticks for my kite.

I was filled with remorse, and even though I rehearsed my apology lines over and over again in my head, I still couldn’t bring myself to apologize to her , not even when I saw her bleeding hands.

I vowed never to lose my temper anyhow again.

My Grandma passed away in June 2000 and I had definitely been as filial as I could.

I do wish I could have done more though.