The Women Who Raised Me

I have had many mothers; the women who raised me created me in many ways or moulded my spirit to be what it is now. Yes, a hurtling life pace takes you along like a leaf on a swift current but at times like these, that leaf snags onto something solid and rests while. And I go back all those years ago when I was surrounded by so much love that it the warmth still envelopes me when I invoke it.

My grandmother, Radha Heble Karnad was well known to many as a strict disciplinarian and a woman with a sharp tongue. I knew her as an amazing story teller who instilled in me the love of memories. She gave me her gift and her job of being the Memory Keeper and today her lovely picture as a yougn women graces the Ancestor's Wall of my home. I called her Teamma, which in Konkani means ' that mother'. I have learned to categorise memories into two groups: felt memories and narrated memories. The former are ones I remember, the latter are ones that were told to me, and I love them too.

When I was a baby, Amma, my mother used to work and Teeamma took care of me. She fed me warm varan-bhaat with tomatoes and made them appealing by calling them ' pivla jhaga, laal topi'. I remember the strains of Aakashvani playing in the neighbourhood when she fed me in eht semi-circular chair in our home at Dadar. She would then draw the curtains and tuck me in for a nap. She was Teeamma as the other mother and that is who she remained.

Diwali in those days was magical. I was the only child, the firstborn of only children surrounded by two sets of doting grandparents too and a great grandmother. The couple who lived on the same floor as us, Patil Mama and Atya Bai did not have children of their own, so they were also part of the family and loved me to bits.

Teemma used to take me to see the Devi idol at Dassera. In an alcove between Saint Paul's Church and the Iranian Bakery near Hindmata Theatre in Naigaum ( secularism at its best). she would show an awestruck 3-4 year old the Devi and say" Look, there She is, fighting evil. Do you see the demon that She has slayed?" She explained to me that the 'demon' was a symbol of evil and we don't randomly go around killing people. Those were the days of the Raman Raghav case and I was very aware that this was BAD.

And I remember asking her: How come She has 8 arms? I have just two as do you" And she laughed out loud, and explained: "Her 8 arms just show you that She is powerful. You are a girl and you too are strong like Her" I don't think I ever forgot that message.

At Diwali, she would warm cocounut oil with crushed pepper corns.

And I sit with this memory of days past, I smile and remember what Teeamma taught me:
I am strong
I am not alone
and I am the daughter of Shakti