Chapter Eleven
Love Epitomized
I learnt early in life to recognise and respect the goodness in people. I was too young to learn anything directly from my father as I was only eight years old when he died. With Amma it was another matter. I lived with her for the first nineteen years of my life. I observed her day and night and learned from her actions. I missed nothing. I noticed how she would know what we wanted without us having to ask for it. I remember, even in the most difficult times I could get her to spend one ‘ana’ (the equivalent of 1/16th of a rupee), on a ticket for the matinee show of a movie. She trusted us fully and in return we knew that we could share anything with her. Normally, we would always confide in her.
I say normally because strangely, the one secret I tried in vain to keep from her was one that mattered most. When I started menstruating, I hid that fact from everyone, even Pankajakshi. It was mostly out of denial that I had decided not to talk about it. For me, becoming mature meant that my childhood was over and that my fun and games would stop. I foolishly believed that by not talking about it I would be allowed to continue my life as I knew it. On the third day of my first cycle Amma confronted me. She yelled at me for not being honest about it particularly because our family had temple duties, and this meant we were required to enter the temple precincts more than other people. Menstruating girls were not allowed to enter the temple or to touch most things in the house. Amma was visibly upset and berated me. Her admonishment made me realise the significance of what I had done and the pain I had caused her, and I really regretted my actions. With a heavy heart, I pleaded for her forgiveness.
Amma’s stern exterior, however, hid the softest heart ever. She was always helpful and generous. Neighbouring women came to her when in trouble knowing that the ‘Warriem Ammai’ would always help them. If anyone came home at lunch time saying they were hungry, they would never leave the house unfed. What we had was readily shared. Times were hard and people had to struggle to make ends meet. Hunger was a common occurrence and Amma knew this only too well. Even though we owned our own lands, life was still hard for us and she felt deeply for those who did not have enough land to cultivate. There were times when she would feed others from her own meagre plate and manage on rice broth herself. Similarly, she would urge us to think of others and she taught us to share with people who were less fortunate than us. That’s why people loved her.
Two girls from middle school lived far from the school and were searching for a place to live locally. They approached Amma and she took them in without any hesitation. These girls, Saraswati and Bhavani lived with us for two years. They were not from our community but that did not affect their welcome in our home. They ate with us though seated at a slight distance, since they belonged to a ‘lower’ caste than ours. Nonetheless, it was commendable that a struggling single mother trying to raise her now five-children family would take in two more mouths to feed, and young girls at that. Saraswati came from an agricultural family so they would send some rice and vegetables once a week. Bhavani however, came from a humbler background. We did not ask for anything and Bhavani’s family did not offer anything either.
Amma was very much a person of routine. Every morning, at 5 AM, she would play the flute and recite prayers that she knew by heart. On Monday it would be prayers to Shiva, on Tuesday to Ganapathy and Devi, on Wednesday and Thursday she prayed to Krishna and Rama respectively, Friday again was the day for Devi, Saturday was the day for prayers to Ayappan and Hanuman and Sunday was the day to offer prayers to Devi and the Sun God. When Amma got down to doing her housework, the prayers continued and she would constantly be chanting, praying or singing praises to the Lord. She was always so immersed in prayer and song, that her work seemed to get done effortlessly.
Invariably, when Amma woke up, I would wake up as well, lie still and tune into her presence. I would be acutely aware of her movements from the time she woke up and would listen to her prayers. I idolized Amma and believed I loved her more than anyone else did. With my older brothers away from home, I knew it was I who cared most about my mother. I always felt that she had a special corner for me, and I followed everything she did with adoring eyes. I don’t know whether the others noticed this but Amma was more liberal with me than she had been with Chechi. Chechi herself would lament that Amma had spoilt me completely, especially because I hardly ever stepped into the kitchen to help with the cooking.
Amma to me was the epitome of goodness and I allowed myself to revel and rejoice in her several outstanding qualities. I worshipped her so completely and it is not surprising that I am now writing about her. As a child I never dreamt I would do this, but isn’t this the divine ‘Leela’ or play of God? Isn’t it the same grace of God which we had witnessed multiple times in our childhood, thanks to Amma’s Krishna connection?