Remembering Ammamma...

My grandmother was abso-flippin’-lutely the coolest - especially considering she was 80. Apart from the typical grandmotherly caring, she would enjoy loud music (and dancing once in a while); knew that us young folk like to follow fashion trends; and understood that people just fall in love and families should accept it and be supportive! Gman and I often talked about how we wouldn’t be surprised if we saw Ammamma cruise by on a skateboard wearing multicolored bermuda shorts.

Unfortunately, this coolness factor seemed to have skipped a generation. My cousins and I had mastered the art of begging and groveling to our parents for every basic need - Eminem cds, tank tops, and the occasional rock show! Strategies were swapped and we decided that if we were ever to, accidentally, fall in love... it would have to remain a clandestine affair. Ammamma would be the only confidante!

Much younger, I had lived with her for a couple of years, back in Madras. And later, she lived with me in Bombay. Hundreds of Malayalam movies and scores of chess matches later, we knew we shared a very special bond.

This day, 2 years ago, Ammamma passed away... leaving behind memories of her smile and an unimaginable void. Poetry was my way of coping with my grief.

I need someone –
To lend me a shoulder to cry
To wipe a tear off my eye
Someone to hold tight and sigh
Someone to help me bid good-bye

I need someone –
Not to preach and teach
Nor to make a speech
But silently understand my grief
And the pain in my heart so deep

When one has been
A part of my lifetime
From bed-time stories and silly rhymes
Through my lows and at my prime
Can the void be filled by time?

I need someone –
Who can share my sorrow
And help all the emotions flow
Pain, regret, & a feeling so hollow
Because a very special person is no more.