This is Savitri- my brilliant and genius నానమ్మ (Nanamma), my father's mother. She was born sometime in February 1940 (her date of birth remains a mystery). She used clues - such as an uncle's wedding, or a cousin's pregnancy to come up with a close enough date to satisfy her lifelong curiosity to know her birthday.
She came from a well-respected and financially stable family in Nizam-era Hyderabad. Her father believed in educating her despite the social conventions of their times. She was the fourth in a brood of five children. Unfortunately, three of her siblings did not make it past the age of 10 due to various illnesses and a lack of adequate medical care for natives in colonial India.
By the time she was in second grade, she was the best student in her class - both academically and in extracurricular activities. She won every race and relay she took part in. Her father had even hired a teacher from the school to tutor her in English after school. All was going well until tragedy struck and her father lost his job, they could no longer afford to send her to school so she stayed home and learned embroidery, stitching, lace making, crocheting, and good housekeeping.
When she reached puberty she was promptly married off to a match they deemed suitable. She was all of 14 when she was married to my తాత (Thata). She had her first child, my father when she was just 18 and then followed up with two more sons. Luckily for her, the marriage was a good one for her husband was an understanding and kind man with a heart of gold. Despite always being forced to make ends meet, they were a happy family.
But fate had other plans and her husband was killed in an unfortunate accident when she was just 38. She received the news while she was recovering from a recent uterus surgery. Her world collapsed and she confessed several times that she does not recollect any details about the funeral or the court trials they attended.
She was in her thirties with three sons, a home, a sewing machine, and nothing else. She was perenially stitching and began doing much more of it. She stitched a month's worth of blouses in a week to run the household, which left her with constant impulsive movement in her hands later in life. Her eldest, my father (15) took up his father's job and supplied additional income. She even began making 'beedis' (Indian cigars) for extra cash.
She faced social exclusion, perils of the male gaze, and much else that was an undeniable part of being a young widow in 70s India. Things got better after her children grew and had families of their own. But she continued to always be on her toes to make things better for her family.
She saved every wedding invite that came our way and crafted notebooks, boxes, frames, and decor pieces from them. She made sure we ate every grain of rice as she felt it was an insult to the farmer's hard work if we didn't. She never threw anything out be it old earphones, batteries, pencils, pens, or sheets of paper without making sure they had no use left in them. She was the OG recycler I've known. She made the sturdiest makeshift swings out of sarees - none of her grandkids needed a cradle. She converted bedsheets into pillow covers, old yarn into fluffy flowers, and discarded plastic into protective layering for fragile things. Nothing ever went to waste with her around. She could supervise plumbers, masons, carpenters, and electricians and would know all about their work.
Though she didn't attend college she loved to learn about everything from people she met. She made greeting cards for loved ones on special days and was game for trying new food. She believed in equality, diversity, and feminism. She always cheered us on to be the best version of ourselves.
She possessed this peculiar ability that was unique to her - she would always have a solution to every ailment, ache, pain, accident, or trauma. She knew how to fix mishaps with her fixer-upper attitude and her magical apothecary boxes.
While she never got to see our clothing brand come to fruition, I am certain she would have appreciated its ethos and vision. If the forces of nature had aligned in her favor I can see her being the most compassionate teacher, a surgeon with extraordinarily precise hands, a pioneering environmentalist, or maybe even a dynamic prime minister. She had it all and for now, I would like to think that she is a vegan tree-hugging crocheting neurosurgeon in another dimension.
I originally intended to write a few lines about her as a submission to the Brown History page but as I kept writing I knew there was so much else I wanted the world to know about her. While I do share a lot of photographs, poetry, books, and compositions I like on social media - I am very guarded about my personal life this is the first time I am sharing something so personal and special to me and I hope you liked reading this bit about my Nanamma.
May we all experience the gift of having a loving grandparent - no matter how fleeting.
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