To the woman who gives me power,
I still remember the day as fresh as the amber streaked dew on new spring tendrils, when you took me to the park at the corner of the lake street, avenue 82A, kolkata..i was 6, holding your finger tight enough and walking by your side pulling at the end of your red laced muslin jamdani Saree when I tripped over a sturdy stone and fell on the road, my knees bruised and my eyes welling up with tears, but u didn’t even spare a glance at me but continued rambling up the street.. I cried for a while loud enough to grab your attention but when you did not look back, I crawled and struggled up the road till I got up finally , rubbed off the dust, cleaned my wound with the water in my bottle and ran towards you screaming and complaining the whole way till I reached you asking innumeral questions about you not taking notice of me, I retorted and inquired about how could you leave me there in pain and just walk away, you looked down at me, gave a warm smile and said, ‘shona, this is your trek up the hill, hill shrouded all over with barbed brambles, stinging nettles, thorny shrubs and cankers, when you trip over something here and fall down, you will definitely be hurt, so much so that your bruises will stick to you like obstinate curry stains on pearl skinned clothes, but these bruises and scars will make their way to the journal of your life, because its always you who have to fight all this alone and make it to the top alone..that’s how life is, it shoves you down now and again, but just like today, you have to get up, rub the dust off and run again, faster and better.’
~by your wonderful shona ( your granddaughter)
Ps: this series is dedicated to my grandmother, the person who I look up to as my pedestal…I wanna share with you guys bout her and expect that it will help you’ll too..