“yakacha woyula?”(Did
you come alone?).
That was the last thing she said to me. This was around ten
days before it happened. After that day, I only remember her condition getting
worse. The doctors gave a very slim chance from the beginning and my family
could only speculate what the real cause of this was. She called out the nurses
if she was in pain and all the other times there were only muffled sound that
made little sense. She stopped talking in Newari and became very fluent in
Nepali; which I had seldom heard her use. “Maiya,
dukhyo…” (Girl, I am in pain). She used to say to the nurses once her pain
medication wore off. Her sons called her. She rarely replied. My heart ached seeing her
condition.
I had seen her active and healthy as long as I had known her.
She had been very ill before, but I was too young to remember. All I know is,
she had one of her kidney and a part of her intestine removed. She also had bad
eyesight from her childhood and her hearing had diminished due to her old age. But
she was always doing something. I have never seen another person as hard
working and strong as her. Most of the people her age are too feeble and ill
most of the time. Even in her such old age, she could eat anything and had no
problem whatsoever. Her favorite food was black eyed peas and everyone wondered
how she could easily digest that amount of protein when most people half her
age could not. Another thing she liked very much was listening to Newari songs.
A radio was always turned on in her room and whenever she was not working, she was
there enjoying the music. And she loved her grandchildren. She had eight
grandchildren and she cherished them all very much.
I was very lucky that she loved me too. I remember she used
to make sure I got something to eat as soon as I reached her house. She would
either start cooking herself or ask one of her daughter-in-law to make me something.
She used to complain that I ate very little every time and tell me that a
growing kid should eat more. She used to ask me about my school when I was
little and then about work after I got old. I used to try my best to answer in
broken Newari. I remember very well, that when I was young, she used to give me
a polythene bag every time before I went back home. In the back, there would be
sweets, biscuits and noodles. I used to open the bag as soon as I reached home
to check what she had sent and I used to think that it was my treasure. I still
go back to being a small kid when I remember this.
The thing I regret the most now is, growing up, I visited
her a lot less. I got busy in studies and building my career and could she her
a lot less than before. The bag of sweets stopped coming as I became less
interested in them. She used to inquire why I didn’t see her more often and I
always had an excuse. Oh! How I wish I had visited her more when I had the
chance.
She used to tell me that I was very good and commended me
when I got good grades in school. These are the things I will remember very
much and drives me. But more than this, what I am proud of is what she said
after her last words to me. She was in ICU, in so much pain, unable to talk
much but she called the nurse that was looking after her and said, “Woh jimi mhya ya kya” (He is my daughter’s
son).
Ten days later, just after nearly a month in hospital, she
passed away peacefully. She had been admitted after a small untreated wound
caused septicemia and at 6:05 pm, her heart stopped.
She was always an inspiration to me, still is and I am very
proud that this strong woman was my grandmother. I hope wherever she is, she is
proud of me too.
