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Does Valentine's Day always have to be about romantic love? A beautiful letter from a grown-up grand-daughter to her 85 year old grandmother.
Does Valentine’s Day always have to be about romantic love? A beautiful letter from a grown-up grand-daughter to her 85 year old grandmother.
My dearest Nannah,
Hope you are doing well.
I have never written a letter to you earlier. We have talked on phone many a time, over and again but I don’t still think that is enough. Writing has its own charm of conveying your feelings to loved ones. I too need to tell you how much I adore you and that I have always looked up to you. Hence I chose to write to you today.
This letter may just be a piece of paper with a few scribbled words to others but it would remind you of my love and gratitude every time you decide to take a plunge into the ocean of my heartfelt emotions through this.
Nannah, you are eighty-five and I am thirty. You are an old lady now but I still feel so much myself in your company. Everything that you talk about — your poems, your stories, your dreams, they always have inspired me. You are the one who inspired me to write. You taught me the importance of expressing our emotions. If there’s none who would listen to us, we can still share it with a pen and a piece of paper. You taught me never to stop loving life. Your positivity, your strong will, your love for life shall be your legacy to me.
I know you may have grown old and feeble, your skin wrinkled and fragile, but this gradual process of wear and tear cannot stop your forever young heart, can it? When you look at yourself in the mirror, you may not find the lady at the other side quite impressive. She isn’t the one similar to your yesteryear. No wonder why you hardly take a look at her. Her weak slender body, her head full of white hair, her drooping gait, her face not so pretty now, might have bothered you for the past two, three decades.
But let me assure you, everyone in the family loves this lady. She is the most beautiful one amongst us all. She is the reason why we exist. We all owe her a lot. The senior members of the family may have forgotten to tell her this in their growing up years or even now, for being preoccupied with the mundane duties of everyday but they too know this in their hearts, somewhere. They will tell you this, someday, I know for sure.
Naanu loved you totally. I remember this one time when I had a conversation with him about you. He told me how you two met. He was totally struck by your beauty. He told me that he wasn’t able to take his eyes off this young thing who had a slender waist, long tresses and mesmerizingly beautiful eyes. I would have loved to know more but I hadn’t met him since then, and then a year afterward, he left us forever. He always wanted you to know how much he loved you.
You have been a strong woman always. You have proved this time and again. You have taken care of my uncle’s family after uncle died five years ago. His death had shattered us all. The children were so young. Aunt was so lonely. But you have stood there like a pillar taking care of them and assuring them at every step that there is someone for them. That they need not worry.
But now when things are all okay and everything’s settled, you too sometimes struggle for love but are deprived of it. People nowadays don’t have the time to express love to someone who had always loved them and lived for them. That’s why I have written to you so that you can read this whenever you feel low, left out and abandoned. Because I know that when you do feel sad, you won’t call me because it worries me. You would just go to your bed and silently weep to sleep.
This letter of mine will then take care of you, remind you how much I love you and care for you always. And yes, would you be my valentine and make me happy? Waiting for your reply.
You are my hero. Love and hugs, xoxo
Image source: grandmother and granddaughter by Shutterstock.
Oneday, someday I'll be free. Oneday, someday I'll be me ..............I love to write because writing is a saviour of my bipolar soul. My first piece was my first letter to god some read more...
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There are many mountains I need to climb just to be, just to live my life, just to have my say... because they are mountains you've built to oppress women.
Trigger Warning: This deals with various kinds of violence against women including rape, and may be triggering for survivors.
I haven’t climbed a literal mountain yet Was busy with the metaphorical ones – born a woman Fighting for the air that should have come free And I am one of the privileged ones, I realize that
Yet, if I get passionate, just like you do I will pay for it – with burden, shame, – and possibly a life to carry So, my mountains are the laws you overturn My mountains are the empty shelves where there should have been pills
When people picked my dadi to place her on the floor, the sheet on why she lay tore. The caretaker came to me and said, ‘Just because you touched her, one of the men carrying her lost his balance.’
The death of my grandmother shattered me. We shared a special bond – she made me feel like I was the best in the world, perfect in every respect.
Apart from losing a person who I loved, her death was also a rude awakening for me about the discrimination women face when it comes to performing the last rites of their loved ones.
On January 23 this year, I lost my 95 year old grandmother (dadi) Nirmala Devi to cardiac arrest. She was that one person who unabashedly praised me. The evening before her death she praised the tea I had made and said that I make better tea than my brother (my brother and I are always competing about who makes the best chai).
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