Amma thy family hath Need of You

I first encountered Amma more than 20 years ago, when she and family moved into the flat above mine. An elegantly dressed Maharashtrian lady, better known as Amma than Aai. She was tall and stately, exuding an aura of royalty. Neither her tastes nor voice was loud, not to my knowledge anyway. With a husband and a son who lived and breathed sports, she evolved into quite a sport herself.

Amma was  politeness personified. Since I was fast friends with her son, I was a frequent visitor to their place. Aware of my sweet tooth, she always tempted me with some sinful Maharashtrian delicacy. Not just once in a while almost always, I sensibly succumbed to her culinary wiles. It wouldn’t have been proper to hurt her sensibilities would it? She never referred to me by my name or as her son’s friend. It was always Beta. In her bounteous presence, it could not have been otherwise. Whenever I engaged her in conversation, it was in Marathi, mine broken and hesitant, her’s chaste.  She never ever chastised me for it but acted like I was a most engaging speaker, that’s why with Amma, I unhesitatingly went for broke.

Unfortunately Amma was not keeping good health. Her ailments were too numerous  to recount . As was her wont, she bore her sufferings stoically never letting go of her trademark smile. Some years back Amma and Uncle shifted to their own flat in  the suburb of Malad, quite some distance from Juhu. At that time, I was posted to Patna. During this period, Amma suffered a heart attack. She miraculously survived. When next I came to Mumbai on short leave, I just had to dash off to Malad to visit Amma. I went on my trusted motor bike. She was over the moon that I had come all the way to visit her. I informed her that I had come only from Juhu and not the from the moon! Like a true Amma, she soundly admonished me for riding all the way to Malad on a motor bike! When I enquired about her health. She brought tears to my eyes when with a twinkle in her eye, she told me she  was actually headed back to the Pavilion but the Third Umpire had given her Not Out! I told you  Amma was the sporty kind. She insisted I stay for lunch. When I refused, saying I did not want to trouble her, it was her turn to shed tears, accusing me of denying a mother her right to feed her son! I hastily assured her that phakht duparichech jevan nahi, me ratricha jevansati pan thambhnaar. (Not just lunch, I’ll stay for dinner too). I enjoyed every one of her tasty rotis, dal and my favourite aloo sabhji. The icing on the cake was the besan ladoos, she conjured up like a magician.

When bidding her and Uncle farewell, Amma cautioned me to ride carefully and to call as soon as I reached home, to let them know I was safe and sound. I told her not to worry as it was already  late and way past her afternoon nap time. For the second time that day, she looked me straight in the eye and said she would take her siesta only after I phoned. I actually had to go to some place in between Malad and Juhu. However a promise is a promise. I rode all the way  home and duly reported to  Amma that I reached safely.  Only then did I go back to Andheri, to keep my other appointment!

Unfortunately, of late thanks to a frenetic lifestyle,  I was unable to keep regular contact with Amma. I did frequently request her son Pradeep to throw light on her condition. The news was always grim. Amma was sinking and sinking rapidly. This once tall lady with such a commanding presence, was reduced to a shadow of her regal self. Finally she was confined to her bed which  ultimately broke her proud spirit. The night she breathed her last, a group of us rushed to her home. A tribute to her popularity. She was resplendent in a green sari, the vermillion tilak, glowing on her forehead. It was as though she wanted us to remember her in all her bridal finery, for the final few moments that she still had with us on earth. Good bye Amma. It was painful consigning you to the electric crematorium. No matter, I will only remember your home, which was always an eclectic auditorium.

RIP.