For my dearest Ambu Paati

The good thing about Alzheimer's disease is that you get to meet new people everyday.
Oxymoronic though it may sound, but Alzheimer’s also brings back a lot of memories. Memories of my Granny (Paati in Tamil) who suffered from the disease and passed away 7 years ago. Whew, 7 years have passed! Time flies.

During my younger years, I remember her to be a very hard-willed, self-restrained woman who drove my mum up the wall with her irrational customs. An overwhelmingly commanding personality that she had, she'd spend hours doing puja, but her attention used to be divided judiciously with an internal detector to alert her for any kind of slip by anybody in the house. Whether it was the bai who touched the curtains by mistake with her "achoot" hands or if we touched food in the kitchen and did not wash hands or if anyone ventured near where she used to dry her nine yard saris.

I, particularly, remember one incident when one fine day, our main door just refused to open. We were all stranded out of the house with the latch not working. After calling the locksmith and fixing a new latch, we figured that the old latch was all rusted up. Apparently, granny had been throwing water into the latch every night after we went to sleep because she used to see vague people touching the latch everyday. It eventually, got totally rusty and one fine day stopped functioning...:-)

She was a stickler for punctuality. At 4 pm sharp, she'd be gone for a stroll and relax in the lawns of our building complex keeping a close watch on all mamis, mamas, kids, bais, hawkers who passed by until sunset. Another most prominent memory about her was her penchant for sweets. She had a huge, huge sweet tooth and used to take 4 spoons of sugar in a cup of coffee. She did not know Hindi but she loved watching TV for hours together. She knew every Hindi actor of that time.. Amitabh Bachchan, Dharmendra et al..:-)

During my toddler days, my parents say I was quite a bit of her clone. All the irrational customs mentioned above were nailed firmly into my little perceptive mind. So much so that I used to perfectly implement the newfound wisdom on all who visited us or we went visiting, probably causing a lot of embarrassment for my parents. As I grew older, I grew out of all that, thankfully..:-)
Later, it used to be small bickering about this, that and sundry. Mostly minor teenage rebellions against her preposterous customs.

As I said, she was a lady of strong character. Having sired 13 children and lost her husband quite early in life, she had come a long way. In fact she got 3 daughters and a son married after granddad's death which I think, for a woman of those times, is a remarkable accomplishment. I guess, even as a teen-ager, I admired that subconsciously about her though I did have my days of tussle.

However, as she grew older, her memory started failing her. At first she used to forget little things like not keeping track of time. After an afternoon siesta, she would go brush her teeth and get ready for a bath. That time, none of us knew this could possibly be the onset of Alzheimer’s. Later she started forgetting people - children's spouses, her children too. After a point, she had no clue with who she was staying with, but kind of knew we were the ones looking after her. That was the phase I enjoyed immensely with her and it left a very very strong impact on my life. She transformed into a child, with no clue on what she was doing, why she was doing, she needed to be nursed and fed, she needed to be hugged and kissed, she had the same innocence in her eyes that of a 3-4 year old. It was the time of shaping our careers (my bro and I) and bearing the board exams and all such horrible exams, and having her around was totally therapeutic. Just minutes spent with her would make us forget all such menial worries.

On this day in sweltering 47 degrees summer in Delhi, 7 years ago, she passed away in her sleep at 2:30 am. That sight is still vivid in front of my eyes. I was by her side, holding her, looking at her helplessly, looking at dad and mum with panic-stricken eyes while they were trying to revive her. I could feel her heartbeat stop, her pulse going down steadily. It almost seemed like she was still sleeping, the same curled-up foetus-like posture, the same serene, child-like look. It was the most heart wrenching moment of my life. I don’t know if writing about this in a public forum like this with so many people reading it is a good thing to do. Maybe not. Its a feeling so personal and I don’t know if I am destroying it by putting it up here. But I couldn't let go of this day without remembering her with a tear in the eye. I miss you Paati.