Nanamma❤️

There's something so comforting about Grandmothers. Like a warm blanket on a cold day.

I never got to meet my Maternal Grandmother, though I've heard a great deal about her from my mom. But for me, in this life, Nanamma was the one and only. 

We tend to like few people from the time we don't even know our own names. Even before we know what is liking.  I liked her from then and in her own words I must have heard this some 100 times, that I cried moment I saw her, after I was back from my mom's sister's place when I was 2 years old. I vividly remember the walls of the OU quarters, the lawn and a chess table in the center where Nanamma and Tatayya played chess every evening and we'd be hanging on trees like monkeys. I remember the aroma of her cooking, her very soft and wrinkled hands, they have magic in them. There's not a dish she's not good at. Anything, like anything she makes is THE yummiest even Upma. She was loved by all our relatives and friends she made right from when she was a young. Her friends loved her. They come home for her birthday with gifts and snacks to celebrate. I wish to have such friendships when I turn 80. She loved her children and I love to hear them. When she talks about them and their stories, through them, I came to know her. Selfless, simple, loving and giving.

When I think of her I remember her in soft cotton sarees with gold borders, playing with my hair, talking about my childhood, singing songs, explaining mythology mostly all of this sitting on her swing - her priced possession but most importantly she always asks 'How are you?'. No not the regular, 'How are you, hope you're fine' thing, more like 'I hope you're looking after yourself, I know it's hard but I'm there and I love you' type of How are you. There's a lot of difference. A lot.

She's one among the 3 ladies, on who's lap I can randomly sleep on. So her loss to me is inexplicable. Part of my childhood has gone calm. It's a terrible feeling sometimes especially when I want to be a child and be pampered. Suddenly the weight of being an adult feels heavy.  

However what makes me and made her Happy is that she saw the next generation, through me. She loved my daughter a lot and taught her those little somethings she taught me. Ayra remembers her as 'Sita Thathamma', while I will always remember her as my second mother, a very very special mother.

Miss you Nanamma, Miss you Thathamma! Thank you for being the Bestest Nanamma and Thathamma ever!