Rosemary Machado, our Mam Aai, or maternal grandmother, taught me how to make bafat - a local delicacy.
Like a painting palette, on a wide tray, she arranged ivory-hued onions and garlic, purple brinjals, rough potatoes and ginger, stiff green chillies, fresh coriander leaves, tomatoes, and dried bombils.
Tray in hand, she came out of the backdoor and drew out her trusted morli, a sharp semicircular chopping blade with a wooden seat. There, near the love-apple tree, she sat down and proceeded to meticulously chop the vegetables.
While casually chatting, she gave me lessons in philosophy.
"You are a nice girl, you know..." Mam Aai was one of the persons in my life who generously praised my insignificant achievements.
"Only thing is..." she stopped chopping for a moment, hesitated, and looked up at me.
"Only thing is that you do not go to church."
As a budding teenager, I had begun to ask myself uncomfortable questions about the institutionalisation of religion.
Years later, I understood why Mam Aai wanted me to go to church regularly. She wanted to pass on to me the gift of total trust in the divine.
Whenever Mam Aai came to visit us, she brought us sweet bananas tied up in a round bumpy bundle in her huge white handkerchief.
Her lifestyle was austere and minimalist.
Sometimes she reached into the faded lugda folds on her chest and handed out sweets as a reward to any grandchild who had been well-behaved. Those cotton folds also held a rosary or money, depending on the occasion.
"These are little roses that we offer to Mother Mary" Mam Aai once told us describing her rosary.
When she prayed, we watched the 'roses' of her prayer beads drop one by one from her work-worn fingers, her lips moving silently in fervent prayer, and her eyes half-closed.
That was how she left us at the age of eighty.
***
On rainy days, Santan D'Cruz, our Mothi Aai, or paternal grandmother, sheltered me under her huge black umbrella on the way to the primary school.
I kept scooting here and there along the roadside, dropping pebbles to stun baby frogs and schools of small silvery fish in the tea-brown flow of the swollen monsoony gutters.
When I got wet, Mothi Aai raised her eyebrows and called me unkind names.
But by the time I got back from school, her rage was forgotten and she allowed me to feed her chickens.
Mothi Aai was a total foodie and made vindaloo and sorpotel even when it was not a special occasion. If she had lived in our times, she would certainly have become a famous feisty food vlogger.
Another passion Mothi Aai had was travelling. And celebrating.
She did not miss any trips organised by the Ladies Sodality from the church. Nor did she miss any weddings in the family. She took me along sometimes and I have colourful memories of these outings.
When film screenings were organised by local youth groups from different parishes, Mothi Aai herded all her grandchildren along the dust roads to the shows on late evenings. Although I was the youngest, she absolutely refused to carry me in her arms if I got tired. I am grateful to her for cultivating in me the stamina to walk long distances. These screenings introduced us to Ben-Hur, Moses, and other prominent Biblical characters. We also literally ROFL (rolled on the floor laughing) watching the antics of Dada Kondke and his tribe.
Mothi Aai had a full-lipped beautiful smile which lit up her eyes.
She lived for more than eight decades, and then left peacefully with the same smile gracing her face.
***
Rosemary and Santan were strong women.
They never celebrated any International Women's Days which would awaken their potential feminine powers.
It is doubtful if their respective husbands ever wished them on their birthdays.
After being widowed in their early twenties, they both struggled to make ends meet and to raise their young families.
After being widowed in their early twenties, they both struggled to make ends meet and to raise their young families.
They became strong, perhaps, as they single-handedly dealt with adversities in life, or perhaps, it was their strong faith which gave them hope.
Rosemary worked on a farm as a labourer.
Santan sold bananas and raised chickens.
They both inculcated moral values in their children and educated them.
Both of them inspired people around them with their unique qualities.
Their powerful legacy lives on in the fond memories that their children and grandchildren have of them.
