In Remembrance of My Grandmother

We all have our own stories of life and our own versions of what life did to us, or how we lived our lives; of fate and destiny. There comes a moment in ones life when one likes to look back and see where one stands? I am thinking on these lines for quite sometime. I think any time in ones life is ripe enough to do so. But at my age, it is rather good to look back. There are many ways to look back at life. One can easily write a chronology, when, where, how kind of stuff. From beginning till date. One can also analyse the "achievements in life". Everyone amongst us has these. Or miseries one went through. We all have our versions. One can also put oneself in a larger social context and identify oneself with times, a ver populist way of promoting one's person. There is yet another manner of telling a story, the remembrance method. It is simple. we have memories that keep flashing in our mind all the time. These might be persons, events, successes, failures, fate or destiny. I like it most. I always have been a fan of anecdotes. I think it is most human. When I look back my grandmother (my mother's mother) stands tall in shaping my life.I grew up with her, since I were two and a half years of age. But I won't begin with the chronology. Since last night one memory is flashing in front of me, giving me a sleepless night and a kind of dizzy day. I think writing about it might be helpful in solving my problem also. While I was doing my masters in journalism, my grandmother was on death bed in Kohat, suffering from liver cancer. I succeeded in securing top position, clinching the first gold medal at the first session of Masters in Journalism at the University of Peshawar. I rushed to Kohat the very next morning to break the good news to my grandmother. I knew she had very little time left (less than a month, as the doctors used to tell). But the possibility of her death never crossed my mind. I just wanted to tell Maa Jee. I was not even excited. It was just routine for me to sit before her when anything big (in my personal capacity)happened. Most of the times she already knew what I was going to say. Some of these encounters were not so pleasant, since I most of the time had had done something really nasty and people from the village used to come to her to complain. I always used to get away with all sorts of mistakes in the village because of being Bibi Bangle Wali's (Lady who owned the bungalow)grandson. The whole village knew she loved me most and they respected her too much to annoy me. Things always used to work out in her presence and I didn't feel being in any trouble at all. She never admonished me once. She just kept quite. And that was always a lesson. Nothing else was needed. I reached my uncle's residence in Kohat and met her, breaking the news. She was happy. I could see that. "I am happy you completed your education. I was so unhappy, since you lost interest in your studies. They all used to blame me for spoiling you.I am happy things did work out for you." She paused and then asked the next question: "Would you also get a job?" I told her the job opportunity is quite obvious, since I was the first graduate. This was really good news for her. She searched under her pillow and took out 100 rupees."Buy yourself some sweets," she said, giving it to me. After lunch she asked me to go back home and not to stay. "I am too sick to take care of you", she said. I left for my hometown Tangi. This is the last I saw of Maa Jee. Within a week we got the news of her death and drove to Pindi Gheb in Punjab. That was also my last night stay at the place where I grew up. I never stayed a night at the place since her death in 1990. One person really makes a difference. Things do change and people prosper (or otherwise), but at the same time things never change. I never found another Maa Jee, though she is always there.