The passing of an era

This post is a tribute to my grandmother, Smt Rajammal, who passed away about three weeks ago. I would encourage readers who are connected in any way at all with the family, to leave your comments for all to see. I am sure that everyone would love to hear your thoughts.

For those who knew her, I do not have to reiterate the prominence of her role in the family over her entire lifetime.  For us, she was one of a kind, but beyond that, I agree with Nanda that she represents  the passing of an era, a link to a time during which none of us existed. Her life itself, intertwined of course with that of my grandfather, has provided me with endless fascination, as a reflection of society as it existed, but also as a testament to her iron will. As much as this represents a sad time for us, it is also a time to celebrate her long and fulfilling life.

She was born in Tirunelveli (Tinnevelly was the anglicized name) in south Tamil Nadu, on the banks of the Tamraparani river. Her childhood and adolescence, in all indications, was spent in comparative comfort, her father being a prominent advocate. I have heard stories of horse-drawn coaches and footmen. One oft-repeated fact (though we never tire of it), is that she sang in front of Gandhiji at a meeting of the Indian National Congress, and that the songs were taught to her by none other than Subramanya Barathi, one of the poet laureates of the independence movement. I have not been able to ascertain whether it was a major congregation or a minor one, since I did not find a record of a Tirunelveli session of the INC (click this link). I would love for someone to clarify this.

She married into the Badithe family at an early age, as was the custom of the time. My grandfather's professional duties took him all over the erstwhile Madras presidency, and she accompanied him on his travels. They lived in, among other places, Rajamundry, Nellore, two stints in Ooty, Mangalore, Udipi, Manipal, Madras, Kadalur and Chidambaram, before settling back in Coimbatore. My two moves in the United States, with the help of all modern conveniences, proved to be nerve-wracking enough - I cannot begin to imagine what such an itinerant career would have done to me. But the constant movement must have given Avva a much broader view of the world, which she retained throughout her life. She had a very high level of curiosity, was innately capable of recognizing that people were different, but at the same time, that certain basic human tendencies remained the same. Along the way, she also managed to give birth to and raise her children, while also suffering through the pangs of infant mortality. Today, her sons and daughters, her 21 grandchildren and 20 great grandchildren (did I leave anyone out ? ), all of whom are in happy homes, with successful careers, and a generally contented life, are testimony to her successful navigation of the tremendous challenges of her life. 

And challenges she did face. Thatha's job afforded only a barely adequate lifestyle, but they bore the burden with equanimity and grace. There was the constant danger of disease that existed in the days before the spread of modern medicine - she was forced to live in small towns with limited medical help, where typhus, malaria, tuberculosis were always lurking, and there was nothing much one could do. Later in life, she suffered through the loss of a daughter, a son, and two sons-in-law, and of course Thatha, each of which must have been devastating to her. But I have never seen her bow down to the darts thrown by fate.  I was always amazed by her resilience and grit, and her ability to 'get on with it'.  She was never one to pause and ponder or pity herself or let despondency take over. She was not only endowed with mental strength, but also with tremendous physical stamina. Around the time I first left for the United States, she was still capable of using an iron machete to peel the husk of dry coconuts taken from the tree in our KG Street house.... that seems a long time ago, except when you realize that she was over 80 years old at that time. 

Avva's role was not restricted to being the matriarch of our immediate family. Our KG street house in Coimbatore was a sort of  focal point of a large extended family, and this was also in large part due to her influence. Literally hundreds of relatives and friends sought her opinion and her blessings on a regular basis on all kinds of matters. Our house was always teeming with people, which made it a very lively place, but also a logistical nightmare, especially if you wanted any kind of privacy.

With all her abilities and her sheer strength, I am probably not overstating the case when I say that, had she been born in a different era with a different set of opportunities, she was probably CEO material.
Avva's influence on me cannot be overstated. Much of it was in my early childhood... She had taught herself the Kannada script, though having lived in Tamil speaking areas almost all her life, and this she imparted to me by making me read the Bhagavatha and other mythological books in their kannada translations. Moreover, I have fond memories of accompanying her to the Pravachanas at Sankara mutt, of Ramayana and Thruppavai from well known Vaishnavite preachers. She was also well versed in music, and though I have not inherited her voice, she has contributed to molding whatever sangeetha gnanam I have today. In other words, a good measure of the credit for my enduring interest in music, mythology and all things cultural goes to her.

Avva was more like an unyielding oak tree than a flexible bamboo. The same characteristics that made her weather the storms of life also made her stubborn sometimes, and it was not always smooth sailing....  I have had my disagreements with Avva, though this is not the time to hash them out.  But taken in totality, there is no doubt her life has enriched ours in more ways than we care to admit. 

Finally, if you ask me the one thing I'd like to remember about her, it is that she was a great story-teller. She had a commanding presence, a very good style of delivery, and a great sense of humour. Most of the family has heard with helpless laughter, her description of the 'Kolavi Kottadu' episode... but in the interest of those who have not, I will try to retell it. When they lived in Kadalur for two years, Avva and Thatha were in a house that shared a well with their immediate neighbor, a  Tamilian. One day, when thatha was in the back drawing water, there was a wasp (kolavi) buzzing about. Thatha let out a warning, saying "Kolavi Kottadu"... In the trade-mark Badithe tongue, which was Kannada mixed liberally with Tamil, this meant "The wasp will sting", but taken purely as Tamil, it meant "The wasp will not sting". This caused great consternation to the neighbor Mami, who complained later to Avva - "Athenna Mama apdi solrar ? Kolavi kandippa kottum Mami !"