Remembering My Great-Grandmother In Times Of Resilience

October 18, 2020

Remembering My Great-Grandmother In Times Of Resilience

Over the last couple of months, everything has just been chaotic.

Every day, when I wake up, I open my laptop and get to work. By the time I'm done, the day’s almost over and I only have time to watch 20 minutes of Gilmore Girls.

If I have some time to spare, I’d either be lolling on my bed, remembering the good ol’ days, while Taylor Swift’s Cardigan plays in the background.

I do try to be productive. I won’t deny it.

I’ve tried ‘working out’ for the first time in the twenty-three years of my life. I’ve tried (and failed) dancing to Natya Social’s tutorial on ‘Jashn-e-Bahara Hai’ (while my mother laughs at my attempts, instead of being an encouraging parent!). What’s more, I’ve tried reading more books but I haven’t completed them. Not one of them.

(And that saddens me the most, to tell you the truth)

I try making a schedule for each day, with vain hopes that I stick to it. But it’s a gigantic struggle to stick to a timetable when the world is collapsing at every second.

***

The week before last, after one gruelling day at work and crazy frenzy at home, I was in bed.

It was late at night and all the lights were shut, and there I was, doing what I do best – overthinking. I wondered how, how on earth could we deal with such a haphazard way of living?

And then… before I knew it, I started thinking about my maternal great-grandmother, yet again.

It had been exactly two years since she’d died. And as far as deaths go? Hers was the most peaceful and natural as yet.

But her life? It was a bigger chaos than you’d ever imagine.

***

Born in the mid-1920s, my great-grandmother lived a youth of luxury. Her father was a rich businessman, famous for his taste in finer things in life, while her kind-hearted mother, was known to be a serial cribber.

(It’s funny how this fine old lady and I seem to share this lovely habit of whining. It’s fascinating that some quirks stay the same, even as generations change.)

Unlike a lot of things you hear about the pre-Independence era, where a daughter was supposed to be a – gasp! – a burden, my great-grandmother shared an excellent bond with her father. Even while she had many siblings (with three younger sisters too!), my great-grandmother’s childhood was a relatively happy one.

Things were relatively normal when she got married to my great-grandfather, a level-headed man who could talk sense into her dominating father’s head. She had four kids – three sons and a daughter, who happens to be my grandmother.

But later, as she was in her early 30s, something happened to her, that was as good as a death sentence in those times.

Her husband was no more.

In the 21st Century, being a widow is tragic, yet women from financially well-off families still have some more agency. But in the early post-Independence era, being a widow was the worst thing imaginable, even if you were rich or poor.

Here she was, a young woman with four young children and no clue what to do. Unlike women of today, she had only studied till class four, so that limited her prospects in ways that wouldn’t hold back a woman of her wealth today.

What was worse was that all of her husband’s responsibilities, from taking care of the fields to managing the affairs at the local school they owned, fell on her really young shoulders.

At that point, my great-grandmother could have given up and let the other men take up the monumental responsibilities. She could have simply caved into the societal norms that didn’t let women take charge.

But she refused to do that.

She refused to wallow in her miseries. She hardened up and started taking on the challenges that came her way.

A couple of years later, as she was navigating her way through those chaotic times, her beloved father passed away.

But my great-grandmother? She didn’t break down.

From ensuring that it was business at usual at the fields to raising her four children to be good human beings, she managed it all by herself. It was a rough road to ride on, but she did it. Though she had screaming matches with every Tom, Dick, and Harry, every other day, she got everything done. What was all the more inspiring was how she fed and helped out many people in times of need, even as she was bound by so many responsibilities.

Even much later, after her children had settled down, she took care of her work, while looking after her grandchildren. She didn’t sit about, thinking that her life was such a struggle.

She realized that her life was changing rapidly, and she only had to adapt, to successfully overcome the hurdles.

And she did all of that at a time when a woman was supposed to be a ‘burden’ and had little to no resources to be a well-rounded individual.

***

Remembering the powerful institution that she was has made me realize, yet again, how as the going gets tough, the tough get going.

Instead of letting the circumstances get the best of her, she made the most of the circumstances and built a happy life for herself.

Remembering all of that, somehow, brought a smile to my face. And it made me realize how being resilient is critical to get through setbacks, especially in times like these.