All grandmothers are sweet; as sweet as the delicacies they
make. A lot is said and written about the endearing bond between girls and
their grannies. With God’s grace I too was gifted to be brought up under the
love and affection of my maternal grandmother. With my mother working, a
college professor, I got to spend all my formative years under my grandma. She is
close to touching 90 and in the pink of her health. Touch wood!
There is a striking difference in the extent of liberty that
children get from parents and grandparents. Rather it is this high dose of
freedom, pampering and fuss that makes children attach close to grandparents. Often
my grandma comes down to city to stay with us. Though the urban jungle is not
much to her liking she stays with us because of my pestering.
When my grandma is at home she is the sole proprietor of our
food needs. Even kitchen utensils seem to work indulgently at her command. She is
better acquainted with the provisions stock and has a keener sense of which
fruit in the fridge would do best for evening snack and which fruit is going to
go bad before consumption. Her cooking skills are the best. The aroma from her
dishes invites our neighbours all harrowing into our house for receipes. Come summer
and the varieties of her pickles leave me taking an extra serving of food.
Till I went to college she fed me my breakfast. As I run from
room to room scrambling through books and papers, getting ready for my college
bus, she unquestioningly follows me with plate and dosa. I can only contrast
this to my mother who would rather ask me to eat at the college canteen than
run around and feed me in the morning.
The contrast doesn't stop there. With my mother, I ask her
once, remind her twice and beg her once more to give me something to munch. But
with my grandma, lest I should ask, she makes a snack every evening and serves
me first, right from the pan. If I praise her dish a little too lavish she will
see to that I eat up her share too.
No, I don’t blame my mother. It’s all to do with grandmother
genes. My very own mother wears a different role when her grandson is at home. My
elder sister’s son, mischievous and naughty, is all that takes my mother to
become a pampering grandma. When the little boy is at home, my mother’s entire attention
is directed towards him. She instantly becomes interested in cooking and
becomes miraculously active for running around the house chasing him with dosa.
Strange, what grandmother genes can do to mothers!
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