Exactly, 21 years back on this date, my ammachi had passed into the mist of time. She had a deep cough and was reclining on the sofa - trying to watch her favourite serial on TV and in hindsight, waiting for the end. The time was around a quarter past eight in the evening. On being persuaded by my grandfather, she was taken by my maman to the nearby nursing home (of which she didn't have a good opinion) where she'd a violent spasm and on advice by the doctor on duty there, was rushed to the SUT hospital. As the car crossed the gates of the hospital, she had queried as to where they'd reached and little did Vilasini kunjamma, Minni - my sister - and maman realise then that those would be her last words! The hospital had notified the patient as, 'Mrs. PN Panicker - brought in dead'. Resuscitation was resorted to but to no avail and the wretched time was 23 mts past 9!
I was at Wellington, Ooty on a course and oblivious of the tragedy. To make matters worse, my folks decided to keep me in the dark for two reasons - the communications were erratic those days and they didn't want me to get 'disturbed' as I was in the midst of an important(?) course!! It took another fortnight for me to come to know of the enormous loss when I'd returned home during the Tutorial break.
Ammachi and me were the best of friends. She used to tell me about everything - about the things that she wanted; her needs were so little though, her innermost feelings and opinions - and she used to wait for me to come home on vacation from school/ the Academy and subsequently on leave, from work to go to the doctor for her ailments. And mind you, we used to be a twosome to watch the movies in town and express our opinions, laugh at the jokes that we shared with each other. The rest of the family used to be fond of our appraisals, took note of the nuances and then decide to go for the films, subsequently!
I wonder whether she'd a premonition of her impending death because on 16 May, that year on my wedding day, she told me during an unguarded moment and I quote, 'Mone, now I don't mind going away as I was waiting for this moment'. Though I remember chiding her then for uttering pessimistic stuff, saying that I needed her around for many more years, I'll never ever know as to what prompted her to say those words then.
I've missed my ammachi at every waking moment all these years and curse my rotten luck for having lost her so early. I miss our serious discussions on 'anything and everything under the sun' and her greatness was that she never, even once, tried to impose her ideas on me.
Tailpiece.
As I stood in front of her photograph on the mantelpiece this morning, for a fraction of a minute longer than my usual practice, I could feel her presence around me. Or was it wishful thinking, yet again?
I was at Wellington, Ooty on a course and oblivious of the tragedy. To make matters worse, my folks decided to keep me in the dark for two reasons - the communications were erratic those days and they didn't want me to get 'disturbed' as I was in the midst of an important(?) course!! It took another fortnight for me to come to know of the enormous loss when I'd returned home during the Tutorial break.
Ammachi and me were the best of friends. She used to tell me about everything - about the things that she wanted; her needs were so little though, her innermost feelings and opinions - and she used to wait for me to come home on vacation from school/ the Academy and subsequently on leave, from work to go to the doctor for her ailments. And mind you, we used to be a twosome to watch the movies in town and express our opinions, laugh at the jokes that we shared with each other. The rest of the family used to be fond of our appraisals, took note of the nuances and then decide to go for the films, subsequently!
I wonder whether she'd a premonition of her impending death because on 16 May, that year on my wedding day, she told me during an unguarded moment and I quote, 'Mone, now I don't mind going away as I was waiting for this moment'. Though I remember chiding her then for uttering pessimistic stuff, saying that I needed her around for many more years, I'll never ever know as to what prompted her to say those words then.
I've missed my ammachi at every waking moment all these years and curse my rotten luck for having lost her so early. I miss our serious discussions on 'anything and everything under the sun' and her greatness was that she never, even once, tried to impose her ideas on me.
Tailpiece.
As I stood in front of her photograph on the mantelpiece this morning, for a fraction of a minute longer than my usual practice, I could feel her presence around me. Or was it wishful thinking, yet again?
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