For the most wonderful person in my life...

It took me quite a while to compose myself before writing about my Ammamma. Her loss is insurmountable to our family and we are reeling in the shock that God gave us on October 12, 2008.

I still cannot believe that it has been a year since the tragedy. I can still swear by her presence in our home and life. She is so embedded in my life that I can still hear her voice whenever I have to take a decision. I can hear her react to certain situations in her humorous sarcasms.

I learnt the word ‘unconditional love’ from my grandmother Mrs Indira K Pisharoti. Even after my grandfather's death, she looked after the whole family and kept herself strong for nearly 20 years. A role model for me and all those who knew her closely, she was my confidante, a buddy who knew most of my secrets and also the one who unconditionally supported me whenever I needed her.

A guiding light for many, she played a major role grooming me into the completely independent and bold woman that I am today. In fact, many of the close friends and relatives say I am her carbon copy in looks, attitude and nature! She supported me when I was taking my crucial decision to become a journalist and also when I wanted to take up Arts - accepted me for what I am and my identity.

My first memory of hers is when I learnt to call her Ammamma. I still remember the days when she used to make me carrot juice after school, making me sit on the kitchen platform and feeding me ghee rice with daal, holding my hands and taking me to the school bus stop and picking me up from there as well. And later, making my tiffin early in the morning during my college years. Her one wish that remained unfulfilled (to my regret too) was to see me working in Mumbai itself.

I remember very fondly of how she used to chide me whenever I cried – either because my mum hit me or when both my mamas bullied or teased me. She would always tell me one thing: ‘Don’t ever cry but react or hit back whenever you are hurt. And in case you feel like crying, then shut yourself in a room!’ She hated me sulking in a corner. That was my grandma – always motivating everyone to smile and ‘live life to the fullest’ was her funda and is mine too. 'Peace at all costs' was another one of her principles in life. She hated fights in our house and discouraged one and all for the same.

She adored both me and my cousin Rohan and since I was the first grandchild, I also was the privileged one to receive her love and unconditional support for 19 years! She had an infective optimism and laughter that was spread in each wall of the house she lived in. Wherever she went, she left an aura behind her.

My grandma had been fiercely independent all her life - she preferred to live alone in her own house even when she was under treatment and medication a whole year. However, fate had something else in store for her. Our world was shattered on March 5, 2008 when she suffered from brain haemorrage, slipped into semi-coma, lost her speech and also got paralysed on her right side. She was bedridden for seven months!

When I came to see her in the hospital, she was a transformed woman - from an independent and active person to a completely shrunk person who lad lost the will to fight for her life. She could hear everyone, but reverted her eyes whenever anyone came to see her - perhaps feeling ashamed of having become dependent on tubes and nurses to help her survive and also the feeling of hurting her loved ones.

I was however determined to bring her back from the hell she was in. After a lot of coaxing and cajoling, and my constant conversations with her, she began gripping my hand. That was a big miracle for the doctors and nurses and for me too - I realised ammamma was telling me something else too - 'I will be with you always!' She started maintaining eye contact with me. Whenever I came to meet her, she would smile. I used to wheel her around the hospital - taking her to the window - motivating her to get well soon. Doctors had begun noting her recovery. But the haemorrage had somehow taken away her survival instincts - thanks to heavy medication. Those seven months, I experienced a sense of desolation and a feeling of loneliness crept in. Somewhere I had also begun losing hope, though I prayed for a miracle from God.

I still prefer to keep her bubbly persona in my sweet memories that I have of hers. Jogging down the memory lane, I still see her smiling at me - motivating me all the time. The last time I met her before her death was on Oct 2, 2008 - my ammavan's birthday - she just looked at me and my mother for one and a half hours, gripping my hand. The world came crashing on my family as we all lost our life's anchor on Oct 12, 2008.

Trust me, she is still alive in our memories, our house and most of all our hearts!! Thanks a ton, ammamma for whatever you did for me and the person that I am today :)