For the living
#48: A 100-word story on an anecdote from my grandmother's life + yes, I'm back
Dear Readers:
I am back after an intensely beautiful, India-filled September hiatus.
I’ve missed you.
More will undoubtedly emerge in my writing from this trip, but for now here are a few pictures from stunning Rajasthan (literally, royal land), which is the westernmost state in India, housing the vast Thar desert (and much more), abutting the Pakistan border.
More travel pics on Instagram
For now…
continuing with this Substack’s regular programming: My 48th 100-word story. After this one, there will be two more and then I’ll bring these to a close—for now.
For the living
In 1946, my grandmother became a young widow. Her husband fell from a rooftop and died. Their son, my uncle, who witnessed the incident, went into deep shock. Per tradition in northwestern India at the time, rudalis arrived at the house to mourn. Rudalis were professional women mourners whose job was to help those grieving embody, experience and process their grief. They did this by weeping openly, helping the family do the same. My grandmother shocked everyone by defying tradition. She turned the women away.
When questioned, she said, “I must attend to my son’s suffering first. I’ll mourn later.”
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reena | 07.10.2024
I was reminded of the story thinking about the million mutinies possible to us even in the face of impossible circumstances. In this true story, a simple, god-fearing woman in India in the 1940s, living in a region that was (and I’m told, remains) hopelessly regressive for women, decides tradition must take a back seat while she attends to those who need her most!
While this tale may seem minor to you, it was a big deal in that place and in those times when women like her had no say against tradition, never left the house alone, nor without a veil (purdah), and didn’t dare to even appear to be defying custom. When I was growing up, this incident was often repeated to us as part of her lore of courage, which became only more evident as an unimaginably harder life unfolded in the aftermath of India's 1947 Partition.
I often wonder if we give in too easily to social norms, meaningless markers and unquestioned expectations. Then we sit with resentment wondering why we feel unseen, unheard. Wouldn’t we greatly simplify life if we simply said no—not for the sake of saying no—but when higher personal values are at stake?
Even when trapped within stultifying conditions—whether nature driven, external or man made—isn’t some agency always possible to us? Can we find it?
The ultimate agency to be exercised is the decision to be happy. Not easy, but this can be our highest spiritual path if we choose to take it. In that vein, Viktor Frankl always comes to mind. But even if we were to write him off as an exception, I wonder if we give up too easily when faced with even the smallest “constraint” to choosing happiness and peace. What if we simply said no, not today, maybe never…
I’d love your thoughts, dear reader!
My grandmother’s life story…
…is for another day. I think about her often. She was educated only up to 5th grade, literate only in Punjabi (Gurmukhi) and never worked outside the home. But she had more courage than anyone I know. I wrote about her life here:
Trying to capture light - in one sentence
(article voiceover) Here’s a sentence about my Nani, my maternal grandmother — the only grandparent I knew. Even as both my parents have passed on, my Nani returns as a beacon. This was first published in The Bluebird Word Literary Journal in July 2022.
“…if we give in too easily to social norms.” This is it. We as humans are so desperate for acceptance that we agree to things contrary to our own soul.
I love the story of your courageous grandmother, for that was truly courageous.
I very much appreciate this piece, thank you.
I recently published an essay about my grandmother, but the anecdote that relates to what you're writing, didn't make it into that post.
My grandmother (now a 107-years-old) came into church one day with her ill husband, asked for a chair so he could sit, and was told by the priest that she should come earlier to mass next time. She was so angry that she walked out and turned her back on the church for good.
This story taught me that you should expect to be treated with dignity and care by people in authority and that you can walk away from their power when they don't treat you right.